Page 33 of The CEO

“And what did that moment reveal to you about me, Eve?” He steps closer to me, his chest grazing my arm.

“That the man who threatens people in secluded meetings in the woods isn’t the same one who charms Chicago’s elite at charity galas.”

His laugh is genuine, surprising both of us. He steps one inch closer, invading my space almost intimately. My back hits a pillar behind me, and he reaches out to press his hand flat against it so there are barely a few inches between us. This time when he speaks, his voice is almost a whisper. “You’re dangerous, Eve.”

“How so?” I barely choke the words out.

He lifts his hand, dragging a single finger down my jawline. “In every way.”

My palms press against the cool marble of the pillar behind me, a relief from the warmth that’s begun to spread between my thighs and up my body. He leans his head down and forward, his nose replacing his finger, dragging it up my jawline till his lips are at my ear.

“There’s that look again,” he growls, sending my eyes to the back of my head. “And don’t you fucking deny it this time.”

Before I can respond, we’re interrupted by a striking woman in a midnight blue gown, her lips set in a perfect smile. “Damien, darling, you’ve been monopolizing your mysterious guest all evening.” She extends a manicured hand toward me. “Vivienne Blackwood. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Eve Thorne,” I reply, noting how Damien’s posture subtly shifts.

“Eve writes for theTribune,” he says, his tone carrying a warning I don’t fully understand.

“How fascinating.” Vivienne’s assessment is swift and dismissive. “And what exactly do you write, Miss Thorne? Current events? Fashion trends?”

“Obituaries, mainly.”

Her perfectly sculpted eyebrow rises. “Obituaries? How . . . unusual for someone attending one of Damien’s galas.”

“Eve has a unique perspective to offer,” Damien interjects smoothly. “Her insights are proving invaluable to certain projects.”

The exchange carries undercurrents I can’t fully decipher, but the tension between them is palpable. Vivienne’s smile remains fixed, but her eyes narrow fractionally, and I can’t help but wonder if they’ve fucked.

“I’m sure.” She turns back to Damien. “The Hanover Group is asking for you, darling. Something about the Singapore expansion.”

“I’ll find them momentarily.” His dismissal is polite but firm.

“Friend of yours?” I ask, turning to him after she walks away.

“Business associate.” His expression gives nothing away. “Excuse me for a moment. There are people I need to speak with.”

As he walks away, I take the opportunity to observe my surroundings more carefully. Beyond the champagne and music, I notice a heightened security presence that I wouldn’t have expected. There’s a man in a suit positioned at almost every room entrance. More than seems necessary.

I also notice the way the crowd naturally parts for Damien as he moves through it—the way the eyes follow him, making me curious how a man of his fame and power could ever maintain a secret life. These people respect him, certainly, but they almost seem to worship him. Their interactions suggest they see a god, or at least a man who can do no wrong.

My instincts buzz with quiet excitement. There’s a story here beyond a shady meeting in a forest preserve . . . something in the power dynamic and the underlying current of tension.

I slip my phone from my purse, capturing several candid images of the crowds. I keep it low against my side, so I don’t alert anyone to my activities.

“Find anything interesting?”

I nearly jump out of my skin at the voice behind me. Damien has returned, watching me with amused interest.

“Your security is impressive,” I observe, lowering my phone. “One might think you’re protecting something more valuable than just a mansion.”

“Perhaps I am.” He takes my elbow gently but firmly. “Come. There’s something I want to show you.”

He guides me away from the main ballroom, down a corridor lined with artwork that looks as though it should be in a museum. Ancient tapestries hang alongside contemporary masterpieces, the collection revealing both impressive wealth and impeccable taste.

“Your collection is remarkable,” I say, genuinely impressed and trying to take it all in as he ushers us forward.

“I appreciate beauty in all of its forms.”

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