Chapter 10 Mr. Black
JASMINE
I inhaled sharply and stepped back, breaking the moment. I stepped back into the hallway.
He can’t find me.
I have to leave.
Lost in my thoughts, I walked straight into something solid.
I stumbled back, bracing for the fall that never came.
Strong arms caught me.
I opened my eyes—and forgot how to breathe.
Emerald-green eyes stared back at me, intense and unreadable.
“Mr. Black?” I whispered.
His face was inches from mine, his breath warm against my skin. His scent—clean, dark, intoxicating—wrapped around me instantly, making my cheeks flush despite the fear still curling in my stomach.
His hands were firm at my waist, steadying me.
“What a pleasant surprise, Jasmine,” he purred, a playful smirk curving his lips.
The way he said my name sent a chill down my spine.
And suddenly, I knew—
Running wasn’t going to be as easy as I thought
I adjusted my weight from foot to foot, the polished marble beneath my heels suddenly feeling unsteady, like it might give way at any moment. Damien Black’s stare was heavy—intense in a way that made my skin prickle.
It wasn’t just a glance; it was a slow, deliberate assessment, the kind that made you painfully aware of your posture, your breathing, the way your dress hugged your body a second too tightly.
“Same, Mr. Black,” I said at last, breaking the silence with what I hoped passed for humor.
It didn’t.
He didn’t so much as twitch a muscle. His expression remained unreadable as his eyes continued their infuriating journey over me, lingering where they absolutely should not before finally lifting to meet my dark orbs.
When our gazes locked, it felt like the world narrowed to just the two of us, the soft jazz music and murmured conversations dissolving into nothing.
“I didn’t think you could afford to dine at such a prestigious restaurant, Jasmine,” he said coolly, dominance dripping from every syllable.
I internally scoffed, biting back the sharp retort that threatened to slip past my lips.
He doesn’t even know me.
The judgment in his tone set something off inside me—annoyance, irritation, pride. Who did he think he was, sizing me up like this? As if my presence here required his approval?
“I’m here with my uncle,” I replied, my voice steadier than I felt. “It’s his restaurant.”
I met his gaze head-on, refusing to flinch, determined not to let his scrutiny faze me. But my body betrayed me anyway—my knees weakened, heat rushed to my cheeks, and I knew the faint flush spreading across my skin was impossible to hide.
Damien noticed.
Of course he did.
His lips twitched, not quite a smile, as he lifted a hand and scratched absently at the stubble lining his jaw. The simple motion drew my attention far more than I wanted it to. His eyes narrowed slightly, studying me as though my answer had only deepened his curiosity.
Can this guy stop staring for one second?
The way he looked at me—slow, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world—made my legs want to give in completely. It was unnerving.
Intimidating. And annoyingly… effective.
That was when I really took him in.
He was dressed entirely in black, an Armani suit tailored so perfectly it might as well have been sewn onto him. The jacket sat effortlessly on his broad shoulders, the crisp lines emphasizing his lean frame.
His dress shoes gleamed faintly under the warm restaurant lights, polished to perfection. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, artfully messy in that way that screamed intention rather than accident—bed head, the kind men spent far too long achieving while pretending they hadn’t tried at all.
I hated that I noticed.
I hated even more that my stomach fluttered because of it.
I wasn’t going to admit it—not out loud, not even to myself—but it was the best and sexiest bed head I had ever laid eyes on. Everything about him was just… annoyingly gorgeous.
Oh jeez,
Did I just think that?
“You mean Mr. Scott?” Damien asked, squinting slightly, as if trying to look past my face and into my thoughts.
“Yes, Mr—”
“Mr. Black!”
My uncle’s voice boomed from behind me, cutting me off mid-sentence.
I turned, relief and dread colliding in my chest, as Uncle Thomas approached with open arms and a wide, genuine smile—the kind that had always made patrons feel instantly welcome.
He moved with confidence, his presence commanding attention without trying, the unmistakable air of a man who had built something from the ground up.
“Damien Black,” Uncle Thomas said warmly, extending a hand. “What a surprise. I didn’t realize you’d be dining with us tonight.”
Damien’s focus shifted from me to my uncle, his expression smoothing into something polite, controlled. He accepted the handshake firmly, their grips briefly testing one another.
“Thomas Scott,” Damien replied. “The pleasure is mine. Your establishment never disappoints.”
Pride swelled in my chest at the casual praise, though I tried not to show it. My uncle beamed, clearly pleased.
“I see you’ve already met my niece,” he added, glancing between us with a curious smile. “Jasmine.”
Damien’s gaze flicked back to me, something unreadable flashing in his green eyes.
“So I’ve gathered,” he said smoothly.
Uncle Thomas looked between us again, sensing the tension now, his brows lifting slightly. “Everything alright?”
“Yes,” I answered a bit too quickly.
“Perfectly,” Damien added at the same time.
The contrast in our tones made my uncle chuckle softly.
“Well then,” he said, clapping his hands once, breaking the moment. “I’ll leave you two to it. Jasmine, I’ll be at the bar if you need me.”
I nodded, grateful for the temporary escape route. As he walked away, I became painfully aware that Damien’s attention had returned to me in full force.
“Your uncle seems… protective,” he remarked.
“He has reason to be,” I replied, lifting my chin slightly. “This place is his life’s work.”
“Impressive,” Damien said, eyes still on me. “Both of you.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, and the ambiguity made my pulse spike.
“Well,” I said, shifting again, suddenly unsure what to do with my hands. “If you’ll excuse me—”
“Jasmine,” he interrupted, saying my name like it belonged to him already.
I froze.
“Yes?”
A slow, knowing smile curved his lips. “Enjoy your evening.”
Something about the way he said it made my breath hitch, like it wasn’t a suggestion but a command.
“I intend to,” I replied, forcing a polite smile before stepping away.
As I walked off toward the dining area, I could feel his gaze following me, heavy and unrelenting. My heart pounded in my chest, a confusing mix of irritation and anticipation swirling inside me.
One thing was painfully clear as I disappeared into the crowd—
Damien Black was trouble.
And somehow, impossibly, I had the sinking feeling that this was only the beginning.