Chapter 19 The billionaire.
THIRD PERSON’S POV.
The drive to Damian’s house felt longer than it actually was.
Maybe because Serena kept rehearsing what she would say.
Maybe because the container of chicken soup on the passenger seat made her feel far more nervous than it should.
But when the tall black gates slid open and she drove into the compound, her thoughts simply…stopped.
His house wasn’t a house.
It was an empire.
Twice the size of her family’s estate, it was elegant, intimidating, carved into the landscape. Guards moved with purpose, communicating through earpieces. Servants crossed between the main house and the side wings with urgency. It looked less like a residence and more like a little kingdom preparing for war.
Serena parked where one of the guards pointed. Before she could even reach for her door, someone rushed over and opened it for her.
“Miss Serena? Mr. Damian informed us you’d be arriving.”
She nodded, handing the man the soup carefully as she stepped out.
Inside, the living room swallowed her whole. Dark marble,high ceilings,art pieces she couldn’t name, the kind of luxury that announced itself.
“Mr. Damian will be down shortly,” one of the maids said kindly.
So Serena waited.
Ten minutes…then twenty.
Her fingers tapped impatiently against her thigh. Trisha’s voice echoed in the back of her mind “Check on him.Make sure he sees that you care.”
Finally, Serena turned to a passing maid.
“Excuse me… is he okay? He isn’t down yet.”
“I’ll go and check,” the maid said, but something tugged inside Serena.
“Actually,” she corrected gently, “can you take me to his room instead? It might be better if I check on him myself.”
The maid froze. “His… bedroom?”
Before she could decline, one of the guards leaned in and whispered to her, “It’s fine. Mr. Damian said they’re friends.”
That changed everything.
The maid nodded enthusiastically. “All right. This way, miss.”
They walked up the staircase together. Serena’s eyes couldn’t help drifting along the walkway, the tall windows, the dark, masculine beauty of the décor.
The maid caught her staring.
“It’s exquisite, isn’t it?” she said softly. “Mr Damian was very strict with the decorators so they gave him exactly what he wanted. But it feels empty sometimes. Lonely. It doesn’t have any welcoming aura. Honestly… it needs a woman’s touch.”
She smiled at Serena, it was the kind of smile that had a hidden plea behind it.
Serena smiled back, but didn’t comment.
At the end of the hallway stood a door twice the size of any Serena had seen. The maid knocked.
Once.
Twice.
Silence.
“It’s okay,” Serena whispered. “I’ll go in.”
The maid hesitated but stepped back. Serena pushed the door open.
The room was cold, dim and silent.
And there on the massive bed under a thick duvet was Damian. His eyes were closed shut, he laid completely still.
Serena’s breath caught. For a second,fear shot through her. He looked… lifeless.
She walked toward him slowly.
The bedroom door eased shut behind her with a soft click.
“Damian?” she whispered.
No response.
Heart hammering, she reached out and laid her palm on his forehead.
The moment her skin touched him, he moved.
A sharp inhale.
A blur of muscle and instinctively, in one dizzying motion, Serena was flat on her back on the bed, breath knocked from her chest, Damian pinning her down with the speed and precision of someone who’d lived their whole life expecting danger. His grip held her wrists, his weight caged her in.
Heat enveloped her,the familiar scent of him darker now that he was feverish.Her heart jumped, stumbling into a rhythm she couldn’t control.
Damian’s breathing was sharp, instinctive, defensive… until his eyes finally focused, recognition forcing him awake.
“Serena?” His voice was rough, disoriented.
He softened instantly, his grip loosened, his shoulders fell, but he didn’t move away. He just stared at her… trying to remember why she was on his bed and under him.
“Serena?” he repeated, his voice thick with sleep and confusion.
She nodded, but she couldn’t speak. His face was inches above hers.
Close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over her lips.
Time slowed.
His hands were still around her wrists, but gently now, like he was afraid she’d disappear if he let go too quickly.
His weight rested against her in a way that made her entire body hyper-aware of him, the heat of his bare chest, the solid strength of his frame, the quiet vulnerability in the way he looked down at her.
Neither of them breathed.
His fever-flushed skin brushed hers.Her lashes fluttered.
Something inside her dropped, like butterflies in the pit of her stomach.
“Serena…” he whispered again, softer this time, as if her name had become something delicate in his mouth.
Her eyes lifted to his, wide but unguarded.
The moment their gazes locked, something quiet passed between them, something neither could recognize. But it was undeniable. It hummed, tugging them closer without either of them moving.
If he lowered his head even slightly, their lips would touch.
If she tilted hers upward, she knew she wouldn’t stop.
He swallowed, jaw tightening like he was fighting something he had no business feeling. Something he had bottled long ago. Something he had promised never to feel again.
Her pulse thundered.
His did too she could feel it.
And for a suspended second, it didn’t matter that she only needed him to execute her plans.
It didn’t matter that they weren’t supposed to be this close.
It didn’t matter that everything between them was complicated.
What mattered was this, the quiet, dangerous possibility of them.
Then
A knock shattered the moment.
Damian’s entire body jolted. He pushed himself off her like he suddenly remembered who he was supposed to be. Serena sat up quickly, dizzy with the loss of his warmth until she actually saw him.
And then her heart stopped, this time for a completely different reason.
Damian stood a few feet away, running a hand through his hair, chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. He wore nothing but loose black joggers that hung low on his hips, his entire chest bare and golden in the dim bedroom light.
Serena forgot how to blink.
His chest… broad, sculpted. His abs tensed with every inhale, every exhale, a smooth firm plane of muscle leading down to a V-line so sharp it practically issued an invitation to her wild imaginations.
Her gaze traveled slowly through the length of his body. She had always expected to see him covered in tattoos, just like the ones on his arms.
Instead, her eyes caught on a single, thin tattoo along his ribs.
His father’s name.
The breath left her lungs. She remembered the stories. She remembered how much Damian loved him. The realization made something inside her soften, painfully.
Only when her eyes reached his face again did she realize he was watching her.
Watching her look at him.
His fever-bright eyes held hers with something warm, something quiet, something that made her stomach flip. The corner of his mouth lifted teasingly like he couldn’t help it.
Serena’s cheeks burned immediately.
“I…I’m sorry,” she blurted, scrambling off the bed so fast she almost stumbled. “I was waiting downstairs but you didn’t come and then I came in and you looked, well you looked dead, Damian, and I panicked and I…it wasn’t my intention to stare at you like…like that.”
Her voice cracked on the last word.
Damian’s expression shifted, amusement shifting into something tender, almost endearing.
“Serena,” he said gently, his voice low from sleep and fever. “It’s okay. Really.”
His eyes swept over her face, lingering on the pink blooming across her cheeks.
“I’m the one who scared you.”
The knock came again, breaking their gaze for the second time, and Damian finally stepped toward the door.
When he opened the door, Edith stood there with a tray of steaming soup, spoons, and plates. Her eyes darted between them, taking in their flushed faces, their disheveled states and she smiled that mischievous, all-knowing auntie smile that made Serena want to melt straight into the floor.
“Here you go, Mr. Damian,” Edith said sweetly. “I figured you wouldn’t make it downstairs.”
Her eyes twinkled at Serena before returning to him.
Damian sighed quietly, the sigh of a man who already knew what she was insinuating.
Edith had raised him since childhood, she’s practically like a second mother to him. When he was leaving Santa Varela she followed him and had been subtly trying to marry him off for the last two years. He knew exactly what that wink meant.
Serena stepped forward quickly, desperate to regain her dignity.
“Thank you, Edith. Also… can I get a cup of water? His fever is burning up. I brought Advil for him too.”
Edith’s smile softened into something maternal.
“Of course, Miss Serena. I’ll send the water up immediately.”
The maid left and the air thickened with the weight of everything unspoken.
Damian leaned against the door, eyes still fixed on her like he was trying to anchor himself to something
“Serena…”
Her name came out of him, raw, almost pained.
He looked like a man on the edge of something dangerous.
Something he couldn’t pull back from.
And she wasn’t sure she wanted him to.