lingering touch

Damian leaned against the bar, swirling the amber liquid in his glass as he checked his watch. Serena had been gone for too long. He didn't care about Rosy, but knowing Serena, she was likely up to something—something that could cause him unnecessary trouble.

With an irritated sigh, he set his drink down and pushed off the bar, ready to go find her. But before he could take a step, Serena emerged from the hallway leading to the restrooms. She walked with the same effortless confidence, her dress still flawless, her expression unreadable. If anything had happened, she showed no sign of it.

Damian's gaze sharpened as she approached.

"Where the hell have you been?" he asked, voice low.

Serena merely tilted her head, amusement flickering in her gaze. "Just taking care of some problems."

Damian's jaw clenched. "Serena," he warned, " What did you do?"

She smirked, brushing a delicate hand over his chest as she leaned in just enough to tease him. "Relax, husband," she purred. "Just handling a bitch who thought she could play with fire."

His fingers twitched at his side. "I told you not to do anything that would harm my reputation," he murmured, voice like steel.

Serena shrugged, unfazed. "And I haven't. If anything, I just made sure no one else will dare test your wife again."

Damian exhaled slowly, his patience wearing thin. "I don't need you making enemies out of everyone, Serena."

She laughed softly, she traced a teasing finger along his tie. "Oh, Damian, you're mistaken. I don't make enemies. I simply remind people of their place."

His stare lingered on her, She was trouble, and yet, damn if she didn't make trouble look good.

Before he could say anything else, the host's voice boomed through the speakers, announcing a dance for the couples. Serena smirked and held out her hand.

"Shall we?"

Damian clenched his jaw, but he took her hand anyway, guiding her onto the dance floor. His grip on her waist was firm, possessive.

Serena leaned in, her breath warm against his ear. "Careful, Damian," she whispered playfully. "You're holding me like you actually want me."

Damian smirked darkly, pulling her even closer. "You should be careful too, Serena," he murmured, his lips barely an inch from hers. "You might actually like it."

She laughed, but for the first time, she wasn't entirely sure if she was still the one in control.

—————

As the party came to an end, Serena found herself in an unexpected predicament. Standing in front of the mirror, she tugged at the zipper of her dress, but it refused to budge. With an exasperated sigh, she turned toward Damian, who was already removing his suit jacket.

"Damian," she called, her voice casual yet slightly hesitant.

He barely spared her a glance. "What?"

Serena turned her back toward him, exposing the problem. "The zipper is stuck. Can you Help me."

Damian hesitated for a second before stepping closer, his movements controlled, precise. "Where?"

She swallowed. "Near my hip."

Serena expected him to be quick, to do the task mechanically, but the moment his fingers brushed her bare back to move her hair aside, a strange shiver ran through her. It was ridiculous—she was a siren, perfectly in control of her emotions, her body, yet the light touch of his fingers against her skin sent an unfamiliar warmth curling through her.

Damian said nothing, his breath even as he located the zipper. When his fingers grazed the small of her back, she tensed—just slightly, barely noticeable, but enough for Damian to catch.

"You're stiff," he commented, voice smooth. "Nervous?"

Serena scoffed immediately. "Why would I be?"

She regretted her defiance the moment he resumed his task, taking his time, his fingers grazing against the delicate skin of her lower back as he worked the zipper down. The slow, deliberate motion made her hyper-aware of every single touch, her heartbeat embarrassingly erratic.

Damian noticed. He smirked.

"Relax, Serena," he murmured. "It's just a zipper."

Serena bit her lip, irritated at herself for reacting at all. She had played this game effortlessly before—teasing, toying, pushing him—but now? With his warmth so close, his fingers tracing her skin, it felt different. It felt dangerous.

Finally, the zipper reached its end.

"Done," Damian said, stepping back.

Serena let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She turned to face him, masking her reaction with a smirk. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Damian simply gave her a knowing look before walking away.

Serena stood still for a moment, her fingers brushing against the back, where his touch had lingered.

Damn him.