Chapter 8 - Dangerously Close

Morning sunlight streamed into the West Suite, cutting across the silk sheets like golden ribbons. Evelyn woke slowly, her body cocooned in warmth, her mind still foggy from dreams.

It wasn't until she shifted that she realized… she wasn't alone.

Damian sat on the edge of the bed, already dressed in his tailored black slacks and crisp white shirt. He was scrolling through his phone, his expression unreadable as ever.

"You're awake," he said without looking up.

Evelyn pulled the blanket tighter around her. "Do you make a habit of watching people sleep?"

"I wasn't watching," Damian replied flatly. "I was checking the day's schedule."

"What schedule?"

His eyes flicked to hers, and for a split second, she thought she saw amusement lurking there. "The Zhaos planned a series of… bonding activities for the couples attending."

Evelyn groaned. "You're kidding."

"Do I look like a man who jokes?"

"No. You look like a man who'd rather be anywhere but here."

"Accurate."

The first "bonding activity" turned out to be horseback riding.

Evelyn stared at the sleek chestnut mare assigned to her.

"I've never ridden a horse in my life."

"Relax," Damian said, adjusting the strap of her helmet. "The staff won't let anything happen to you."

His fingers brushed her jaw lightly as he checked the fit, and Evelyn's breath caught.

"Stop looking so nervous. The horse will sense it."

"Easy for you to say, Mr. Perfect-at-Everything."

He smirked—barely. "It's just about balance. Watch me."

Of course, Damian handled his horse with effortless grace. Evelyn, meanwhile, was convinced she was about to be launched into a tree.

At one point, the mare startled at a bird, and Evelyn let out a startled yelp.

Damian was beside her in an instant, his hand closing over hers on the reins.

"Don't pull back. Ease her in," he instructed, his voice calm and steady.

Evelyn tried to focus on the horse, not on how close Damian was, his knee brushing hers with every step.

"You're a fast learner," he said after a moment.

"You sound surprised."

"Not surprised. Impressed."

That single word sent a strange warmth curling in her chest.

The afternoon's activity was a "couples' cooking challenge" in the villa's massive kitchen.

"I don't cook," Damian said bluntly as they were handed aprons.

"I don't either. This should be fun," Evelyn muttered.

Yet somehow, standing side by side chopping vegetables, they worked in surprising harmony.

"You're left-handed?" Damian observed.

"You notice everything, don't you?"

"It's my job."

"Is it your job to hover like a mother hen too?"

His hand brushed hers as he reached for a knife. "If I don't, you might cut yourself."

By evening, Evelyn was exhausted but strangely lighthearted. She and Damian had survived two activities without anyone suspecting a thing.

She almost believed their act herself.

Almost.

Back in the West Suite, Evelyn kicked off her shoes and flopped onto the bed.

"I can't believe you cooked."

"Supervised," Damian corrected, loosening his tie.

"You diced onions."

"They weren't evenly sized."

She laughed softly, surprising them both. "You're impossible."

The air shifted.

Damian's gaze caught hers across the room. It was different this time—no ice, no sharp edges. Just… quiet intensity.

He moved closer, stopping at the edge of the bed.

"Evelyn." His voice was low, almost hesitant.

"Yes?"

His hand lifted, fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from her cheek. She held her breath.

For a moment, she thought he might actually lean down.

But then his phone buzzed sharply, shattering the moment.

Damian's jaw tightened as he stepped back. "Get some rest. Tomorrow's another long day."

Cliffhanger:

Evelyn watched him retreat to the couch, her heart pounding. She pressed a hand to her cheek where his fingers had lingered.

This wasn't supposed to feel real. So why did it?