Damian Wolfe
I've been stalked before.
By lawyers, competitors, lovers who mistook lust for love.
But never like this.
Aria Vale didn't just knock on the gates of my empire—she waltzed inside and threw gasoline on the floor.
And now I can't stop thinking about her.
It's not attraction. It's not even fascination.
It's possession. The raw, coiled instinct to know her, own her, ruin her.
She played her opening move like a queen in a blood game. Beautiful. Ruthless. Calculated.
So I did what any predator would do—I started peeling back her layers.
Jasper had the file on my desk before sunrise.
"She's clean," he said, brows furrowed. "Too clean."
"Explain."
"She's got credentials. Work history. A social media presence. But… no childhood records. No paper trail before age eighteen. It's like she just appeared."
"Which means she's hiding something."
Jasper nodded grimly. "And doing it very well."
I tapped her picture on the file—a shot from a gala six months ago. Backless red dress, champagne in hand, eyes like a challenge.
I wanted to pin her down and demand answers.
I wanted to see what she looked like falling apart.
But first… I needed to lure her out.
I grabbed my phone and dialed an old favor.
"Get me an invitation list to the Morton charity gala tonight," I said. "And make sure Aria Vale's name is on it."
"Sir?" Jasper asked. "She's not on the donor roster."
"She will be," I said. "By the time she arrives, she'll have a personal invitation. And a seat at my table."
Because if Aria Vale wanted to dance with wolves—
She'd have to learn what it meant to be hunted.
---
~Eight hours later~
The Morton Gala was a glittering spectacle of power and hypocrisy. Wealth clinked in glasses and dripped from manicured fingers. I hated these events.
But I knew Aria would come. She'd want to see what I'd do next.
I didn't disappoint.
I watched her enter from the top of the stairs.
She wore black this time. Velvet. Low cut. Hair pinned up like a weapon. The room tilted around her, too slow to catch its breath.
She knew every eye was on her.
But her eyes—
They were looking for me.
When they found me, she smiled.
Not polite. Not flirty.
Predatory.
And f**k me, I smiled back.
I made my way through the crowd, unhurried. The sea of people parted without touch. They always did.
"Ms. Vale," I said, coming to a stop in front of her. "You clean up well."
"So do you," she replied, voice silk and smoke. "But I prefer you when you're angry."
"You'll get your wish," I said, offering my arm. "Shall we?"
She took it.
And just like that, we stepped into the dance.
Two liars. Two predators.
One game.
---
She slid her hand over my arm like she belonged there. Like we were already in the middle of something intimate, something dangerous.
We didn't need to speak. The weight of the moment hung between us like an unspoken dare. Her fingertips brushed mine as we moved through the crowd—deliberate, slow. A subtle graze that stirred a heat in my chest I didn't want.
"You're bold," I murmured, as we made our way through the sea of guests. "I'll give you that."
She didn't respond right away, but I could feel the curve of her lips tugging into a knowing smile. "I learned from the best."
I looked at her, my gaze sharp. "I don't know whether to be impressed or offended."
"Why not both?"
Her voice dropped lower, as if sharing a secret only the two of us were privy to, even as we walked through the chatter of the room. The air between us thickened, a current running through the space that made the rest of the world feel distant. All I could focus on was the feeling of her body next to mine, the soft heat of her skin against the expensive fabric of my suit.
I led her to the balcony overlooking the city, the cool night air a stark contrast to the warmth of the gala. The lights from the city below flickered like stars. But even here, high above it all, there was no escape from the gravity pulling between us.
"Is this how you do business, Ms. Vale?" I asked, voice low, as I leaned against the railing, watching her carefully. "By showing up uninvited, playing games with people's lives?"
She tilted her head, her dark eyes glinting in the light. "You should know, Mr. Wolfe. I'm not the type to play games. I play for keeps."
I could feel the weight of her words settle between us, heavy and thick. There was something about the way she spoke—so sure of herself, so certain of what she wanted. And for the first time in a long time, I wasn't the one in control.
She stepped closer, just enough that her breath skimmed my jawline. "Don't pretend you're not intrigued," she whispered.
I clenched my jaw. "You think I'm intrigued?"
"I know you are."
She was too damn close now—close enough for me to inhale the faint scent of her skin. Her perfume was intoxicating, rich and warm, laced with something spicy. It wrapped around me, smothering all my usual calculations, all the control I thought I had.
I turned to face her fully, taking a step toward her, forcing her to tilt her head back to meet my gaze. My pulse quickened as her chest brushed against mine, her breath quickening ever so slightly. But her expression remained steady—unwavering.
"You're dangerous," I said, my voice rougher than I intended. "Do you know that?"
"I like to think of myself as a necessary risk," she replied, her eyes locking onto mine, daring me to argue.
I stepped closer, closing the final inch between us. There was no escape now. The space was too small, the tension too thick. My breath brushed her lips, and for a split second, I thought she might let me kiss her. And then just as quickly, I realized it wouldn't be that simple.
Aria Vale was not someone you just claimed. She was someone you earned.
I leaned in, my lips near her ear, my voice low and purposeful. "I don't make mistakes, Aria. And I never underestimate anyone. But you're playing with fire, and I'm not sure if you're ready to be burned."
Her smile was like a blade, cutting through the distance between us. "I think I'm more than ready, Damian. The question is—are you?"
The challenge hung between us, the air crackling with the intensity of it. She wanted something from me, something more than just a business deal or a simple exchange of power. She wanted me to want her—to need her.
And god, I did.
But I wasn't sure if I was willing to give in yet.