Chapter 36 Chapter 36
Amber
For a split second, all I could do was stare at Damian.
Of all the people in this godforsaken place, it had to be him.
Silver eyes locked onto mine with that same infuriating intensity, and I watched as recognition flickered across his face. His gaze dragged down a bit too slowly, taking in every detail of the ridiculous outfit Chen had forced me into.
His jaw tightened as I uselessly tried to pull down the short dress and adjusted my fur scarf that barely covered anything.
I stood there like an idiot, the tray trembling slightly in my hands, trying to remember how to form words.
“What are you doing here?” I hissed low as his eyes narrowed on me.
“Doing a better job at spying than you” He answered, his voice returning to his usual tone and keeping it low to a whisper.
I realized he had changed it a bit to not draw attention because Clarke would recognize his voice as well.
"I.." I started.
"Drink," he said flatly, cutting me off.
Right. I was supposed to be serving him.
I fumbled with the bottle, pouring amber liquid into a glass with shaking hands, acutely aware that Clarke and his companions were still close enough to notice if I did anything suspicious.
I held out the glass to Damian, leaning in slightly.
"Thank you," I whispered, barely audible.
His eyes narrowed. "For what?"
"For saving me" I glanced over at Clarke's group. "That man was…"
"An idiot," Damian finished. "Like you."
My relief evaporated instantly. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." He didn't take the glass, just stared at me with cold disapproval. "What part of 'mind your own business' do you not understand?"
"I was…"
"Following Clarke like you have a death wish?" His voice was low, dangerous. "Sneaking into a place like this wearing that?"
Heat flooded my face. "I didn't have a choice about the outfit!" I realized my voice had risen but luckily Clarke and his friends were too engrossed in their chat and female servers to look at me.
"You had a choice about not coming here at all."
My fingers tightened around the glass. "I was trying to find out what he's hiding. And you have no right to lecture me when you shut me down this morning.”
I had been hurt by his casual dismissal.
"Why are you so averse to staying alive?" He leaned forward slightly. "You're reckless, Red. And apparently, you need to learn that lesson the hard way."
Oh, I was going to kill him.
Here I was, risking my neck to uncover whatever shady business Clarke was involved in, and Damian had the audacity to lecture me like I was a child who'd wandered into traffic.
"I don't need your lesson" I replied indignantly, but he cut me off by pushing the glass away.
The crystal tumbler flew from my hand and shattered against the floor with a sharp crack that echoed through the space.
It was loud enough to make every eye in the room turn toward us.
My heart stopped and I quickly covered my face with the fur scarf.
I bent down immediately, reaching for another glass on my tray, my hands shaking as I tried to salvage the situation.
If Clarke noticed me or noticed us, we were done for.
"Pour it in my mouth, gorgeous." Damian said, adopting that husky tone again to hide his real voice.
My head snapped up. "What?" I hissed low.
"You heard me." His expression was completely neutral, like he'd just asked for the time. "Pour the drink directly in my mouth. Now."
"I'm not…"
"You are," he interrupted calmly, "unless you want Clarke to recognize you. He's watching."
I didn't dare turn my head to check, but I could feel that prickling awareness of being observed.
Damian's silver eyes held mine, and there was something in them that made my stomach flip.
"Fine," I muttered, moving closer to stand by the edge of the couch so that he could lean his head on the backrest and I would pour the drink in his mouth.
But he shook his head and I was too afraid to speak so instead my eyebrows shot up, demanding what the fuck he was doing.
"Sit on my lap."
Had he lost his fucking mind?
He leaned back against the couch, spreading his legs slightly in a way that made far too much space between them as an invitation. "Either you sit, or I call him over to get a better look at you."
My blood ran cold. He wouldn't do it, right?
Except when I looked at his face, at that infuriatingly calm expression, I knew he absolutely would.
"I hate you," I whispered.
He tilted his head. "Clock's ticking, Red."
I took a breath, then another, trying to steady my racing pulse telling myself this was fine, that this was temporary.
I just had to make it look real so Clarke would go back to discussing the murder, to revealing his grand plans.
I could do this.
I stepped forward, awkwardly trying to figure out the logistics of sitting on someone's lap while wearing a dress that barely covered anything and heels that threatened to snap my ankles.
The moment I tried to maneuver myself onto his lap, I lost my balance.
But his hand shot out, catching my waist and steadying me before I could fall face-first into his chest.
The contact sent electricity shooting through my entire body.
His touch was scorching hot through the thin fabric of the pantyhose that barely covered anything. His fingers splayed across my back, firm and possessive, and I was suddenly, acutely aware of how solid he was beneath me.
It was all muscle, all heat…and all things I imagined him to be.
"Careful," he murmured, and I hated the way my body reacted to his low and rough voice that sounded like gravel and silk mixed together.
I should have been angry at the way I was at his mercy, my focus should have been on Clarke and the investigation and literally anything other than the fact that I was now straddling Damian Blackwood's lap in a den of sin while wearing next to nothing.
And all I could think about was how perfectly I fit against him, how his thighs were firm beneath mine.
His hand was still on my waist, thumb tracing idle circles that absolutely should not have felt as good as they did.
‘Get it together, Amber.’