Page 88 of Sticks & Serpents

His pupils were blown wide, dark and intense against the pale blue of his irises. My heart raced at the sight of him, tension radiating from his body as if he were a coiled spring ready to snap.

“You owe me more than a blowjob, little lamb,” he said, his voice low and laced with challenge.

I smirked, trying to catch my breath while feigning nonchalance. “You’re impossible.”

Damien just returned my smirk, shifting gears as if we hadn’t just crossed a line neither of us could unsee. “And you like it.”

His confidence wrapped around me like a warm blanket, but I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. He always had this way of getting under my skin—of turning every interaction into a game where I didn’t quite know the rules. But deep down, I couldn’t deny that there was an electric thrill in it.

“Maybe,” I shot back playfully, unable to keep the laughter from bubbling up inside me. It was absurd how easily he could make me forget everything else.

He leaned closer, eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made it hard to think straight. “Maybe? You’re lying.”

I opened my mouth to respond but then hesitated. In that instant, everything shifted again. The gravity of what we had done loomed over us like a dark cloud threatening rain.

Damien pulled up to the venue and left his car at the valet. We stepped inside together, and my heart sank at the sight before me. The building loomed large, a grandiose palace that reeked of wealth and power. Ornate chandeliers sparkled from the high ceilings, casting a warm glow over the polished marble floors. Every detail screamed extravagance—the lush carpets, the intricate moldings, and the overwhelming scent of expensive perfume that clung to the air like a suffocating blanket.

Inside, a sea of perfectly tailored suits and lavish gowns swirled around us. Laughter echoed off the walls, but it felt hollow, each smile stretched too wide to be genuine. This place was everything I hated—filled with superficiality and empty charm.

Damien stiffened beside me as we stepped through the doors. I could feel his tension radiating off him like heat waves on a summer day. My heart raced as I caught sight of his father making his way toward us—a perfectly polished man whose presence commanded attention. Mr. Sinclaire exuded charm with every word he spoke, his smile dazzling yet devoid of warmth. His silver hair was impeccably styled, framing a face that appeared eternally youthful despite its sharp lines.

“Ah, Holly. You look lovely,” he said smoothly, eyes glimmering with a mix of appraisal and calculation.

I forced a polite smile in return, feeling my stomach twist slightly at the formality of it all. “Thank you, Mr. Sinclaire.”

His gaze shifted to Damien, and for a fleeting moment, I caught a flicker of disapproval behind his practiced smile—a subtle reminder that no matter how well we pretended otherwise, our relationship remained under scrutiny.

“You should be mingling, son,” he continued smoothly, dismissing me as if I were just another piece of furniture in this ostentatious display. “Making connections.”

Damien tensed at his father’s words but said nothing in response. I could feel the weight of unspoken words hanging between them like an invisible barrier—one that had been built over years of expectations and disappointments. I wondered how much longer we could keep pretending everything was fine when clearly it wasn’t.

I gripped Damien's arm before he could walk away, the tension between us palpable. I looked up at Mr. Sinclaire, my voice steady but firm. “Damien doesn’t need to play politics to prove his worth. He’s already the best player on the team.”

Silence fell around us, thick and heavy. I could feel the air crackling with unspoken words and unresolved issues, rippling between the three of us like a taut wire ready to snap.

Mr. Sinclaire exhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing slightly as they assessed me, weighing my words against the expectations he held for his son. “I see you’re still as stubborn as ever, Holly.”

I smiled sweetly, a mask over my racing heart. “I learned from the best.”

He chuckled, but there was no amusement in it—only a hint of annoyance as he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving my heart pounding in the wake of our exchange.

I turned to Damien, expecting gratitude or maybe even relief. Instead, his expression was unreadable—a storm brewing behind those stormy blue eyes.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said quietly, almost as if he were wrestling with something deep inside him.

I lifted a brow, unwilling to back down now that I had stepped into this fight for him. “Yes, I did.”

His gaze flickered with something I couldn’t quite decipher—appreciation mixed with frustration—and then softened just enough for me to catch it. “Thank you.”

The words hung between us like a fragile bridge over a chasm filled with unresolved feelings and unspoken fears. My chest tightened at the weight of what we both knew was at stake—the very foundation of what we were trying to build together was still fragile and teetering on the edge.

As I searched his face for clarity or perhaps an inkling of what came next, I realized that no matter how many times we circled around each other in this strange dance of tension and attraction, we still had so much left unsaid—and so many battles yet to fight.

The party buzzed around me, a whirlwind of laughter and conversation, but all I felt was the weight of expectation. As the dean’s daughter, I had a role to play—one that required charm and poise, even as my heart raced with thoughts of Damien.

I mingled with guests, smiling politely at familiar faces while nodding along to discussions about hockey statistics and charity donations. The usual banter floated around me like background noise; I forced myself to participate, but my mind kept drifting back to him—the way his fingers had gripped my waist, the fire in his eyes when he looked at me.

After a few minutes of forced pleasantries, I lost sight of Damien. I scanned the room for him, feeling a knot form in my stomach. Where had he gone? He was supposed to be right here beside me, sharing in this awkward charade.

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