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The tension inside Harper’s home had shifted over the past few days. It was no longer just the looming threat of danger that hung in the air; it was something else. Something more immediate, more intimate. Harper tried to ignore it, tried to pretend that her frustration with Damien was purely professional, but the truth was, her irritation stemmed from more than just his overbearing protectiveness.
She was attracted to him.
It was maddening. She didn’t want to be attracted to him. Damien Hale was the last person she should be interested in. He was rigid, stoic, and completely focused on his job. He never laughed, never smiled—not really—and he treated her like just another client to be protected.
But every time she caught a glimpse of him, every time she felt the weight of his presence behind her, something in her body reacted. And it wasn’t just the usual spark of interest she might feel for a handsome man. No, this was deeper, more intense—like a fire slowly building beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to erupt.
Harper spent most of her days pretending it wasn’t there. She kept herself busy with work, throwing herself into filming, editing, and planning new content. The collaboration with the body-positive brand was moving forward, and she had meetings lined up with several other companies that wanted to partner with her. On the surface, everything seemed fine. But underneath, the tension between her and Damien was growing, thickening with each passing day.
It didn’t help that he was always there. Always close. Every time she turned around, Damien was nearby, his presence constant and overwhelming. She had never been the kind of person who needed space—she thrived on connection, on being around people—but Damien’s watchfulness was different. It was suffocating and protective all at once.
And yet, she couldn’t deny how safe she felt with him. As much as she hated admitting it, Damien made her feel secure in a way she hadn’t experienced in a long time. The knowledge that he would step in without hesitation, that he would put himself between her and danger without a second thought, gave her a strange sense of comfort. It was irrational, considering how emotionally closed-off he was, but it was there.
Still, the more time they spent together, the more Harper noticed the cracks in Damien’s armor. He wasn’t as emotionless as he pretended to be. There were moments—fleeting, but real—where she caught glimpses of something more beneath his stoic exterior. A softness, a protectiveness that went beyond professionalism. But just as quickly as it appeared, it would vanish, buried beneath the walls he had built around himself.
Harper found herself wanting to break through those walls, to see the real Damien. But every time she got close, he pulled back, retreating into the safe distance he maintained between them. It was infuriating.
Today, Harper was determined to change that.
She had made plans to attend a charity gala later in the evening, an event she had committed to months ago. Under normal circumstances, she would have looked forward to it—it was a chance to dress up, network, and support a cause she cared about—but now, with the threat hanging over her, the idea of going out in public made her stomach churn.
Damien had already tried to convince her to cancel, but Harper refused. She had obligations, and she wasn’t going to let some faceless coward scare her into hiding. Besides, the event would be full of people, with security everywhere. It would be safe.
At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.
By the time evening rolled around, Harper was standing in front of her full-length mirror, inspecting her outfit. She had chosen a floor-length emerald green gown that hugged her curves in all the right places, with a deep neckline and an elegant slit up the side. Her hair was styled in loose waves, cascading over her shoulders, and her makeup was bold—dark red lips and smoky eyes that gave her a fierce, confident look.
She stared at her reflection, trying to psych herself up. On the outside, she looked like her usual confident self, but inside, she was anything but. The knowledge that someone had been watching her, stalking her, gnawed at her, making it hard to focus on anything else. But she refused to let it show. She had built her career on being unapologetically herself, and she wasn’t going to let fear change that.
There was a knock on her bedroom door, and before she could answer, Damien stepped inside. Harper caught his reflection in the mirror as he entered, and her breath hitched.
He was dressed in a black suit, tailored perfectly to his muscular frame, and he looked devastatingly handsome. The usual intensity in his eyes was still there, but there was something different about him tonight. He seemed... softer, somehow. More human.
"You look..." Damien trailed off, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. "You look beautiful."
Harper’s heart skipped a beat, and she quickly turned away from the mirror, flustered by the unexpected compliment. Damien had never commented on her appearance before. It threw her off balance.
"Thanks," she said, trying to sound casual. "You clean up pretty well yourself."
Damien didn’t respond to the joke, but his gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he shifted his attention back to the task at hand.
"Are you ready to go?" he asked, his tone back to its usual businesslike efficiency.
Harper nodded, grabbing her clutch from the dresser. "Yeah. Let’s do this."
Damien stepped aside, allowing her to exit the room first, and they made their way downstairs to the front door. The tension between them was palpable, even more so than usual, and Harper couldn’t tell if it was because of the danger or because of the way he had looked at her just moments ago.
When they reached the SUV parked outside, Damien opened the door for her, and she slid into the passenger seat. He joined her a moment later, starting the engine and pulling out of the driveway with his usual precision.
The ride to the gala was quiet, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Harper stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past, her mind racing. She could feel Damien’s presence beside her, steady and protective, but it was more than that. There was something unspoken between them, something neither of them was willing to acknowledge.
She couldn’t deny the attraction anymore. It was there, simmering just beneath the surface, and no matter how hard she tried to ignore it, it wasn’t going away.
But what was the point? Damien was never going to let his guard down, never going to let her in. He was too focused on his job, too locked up inside his own walls to ever consider her as more than a client.
And yet, a part of her wanted to try. A part of her wanted to push him, to see if he would crack.
They arrived at the venue a few minutes later, and Damien pulled up to the front entrance. A valet opened Harper’s door, and she stepped out, taking a deep breath to steady herself. The event was in full swing, with guests mingling outside the grand building, dressed in their finest attire. It was a scene she was used to—charity events, glamorous parties—but tonight, it felt different. The weight of the threats, the constant awareness of her surroundings, made it hard to relax.
Damien stepped out of the car and moved to her side, his body close but not touching. He was always there, always near, but never crossing the invisible line between them.
"I’ll be close," he said quietly as they walked toward the entrance. "If anything happens—"
"Yeah, I know," Harper interrupted, forcing a smile. "You’ve got my back."
Damien didn’t respond, but she felt the tension in him, the heightened awareness that he always carried with him. He wasn’t just attending a gala; he was on high alert, scanning the crowd for potential threats.
They entered the grand ballroom, where chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the room. The space was filled with people—socialites, celebrities, and philanthropists—all mingling and sipping champagne. A live band played softly in the background, and waiters moved through the crowd with trays of hors d'oeuvres.
Harper took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. She was here for a reason—to support a cause she cared about, to show that she wasn’t going to be scared into hiding. But the moment she stepped into the crowd, she felt the weight of the stares, the whispers.
She was used to it, of course. People always talked, always judged, but tonight it felt different. Tonight, she couldn’t help but wonder if someone in the room was watching her with more than just idle curiosity. Someone with malicious intent.
Damien stayed close, his presence a steady anchor in the swirling sea of people. As much as Harper hated to admit it, she was grateful for him. He made her feel... safe, even in the midst of so much uncertainty.
They moved through the crowd, and Harper did her best to put on her public face, greeting people she knew, making small talk, and smiling for the occasional photo. It was exhausting, but it was necessary. She couldn’t let the world see her fear. Not when her entire platform was built on confidence and self-love.
As they stopped near the bar, Damien leaned in close enough that only she could hear him. "I’m going to do a sweep of the room. Stay here. I’ll be back in a few minutes."
Harper nodded, feeling a flicker of anxiety as he stepped away. She watched him go, his tall frame moving smoothly through the crowd, and once he disappeared from sight, the knot of tension in her stomach tightened.
She hated that he made her feel safer. Hated that his absence made her feel more vulnerable than she wanted to admit. But it was the truth. Without him nearby, the weight of the threats, the danger, pressed down harder.
"Harper! Darling, you look stunning!"
A familiar voice broke through her thoughts, and Harper turned to see Karen Michaels, a well-known socialite and one of the event’s hosts, gliding toward her in an elegant red gown. Karen was always the center of attention at these events, her laughter loud and infectious, her presence commanding.
Harper forced a smile, grateful for the distraction. "Karen, you look amazing."
Karen waved a dismissive hand. "Please, I’m just trying to keep up with you! Everyone’s been talking about how incredible you’ve been lately, standing up for body positivity and all that. We need more women like you in the spotlight."
"Thanks," Harper said, though the compliment felt hollow tonight. Normally, she would have basked in the praise, but right now, all she wanted was to get through the evening without incident.
Karen leaned in conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a stage whisper. "I heard about the threats. Awful business, truly. You must be terrified."
Harper stiffened, her smile slipping for a moment. She hated how casually people talked about it, like it was just another piece of gossip to be discussed over champagne.
"I’m handling it," she said, keeping her tone light but firm. "I have security."
Karen’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Oh, yes. I saw that handsome man you came in with. Is he your bodyguard? My, my, Harper, you certainly know how to pick them."
Harper’s cheeks flushed, and she quickly shook her head. "He’s just doing his job."
Karen gave her a sly smile, clearly not convinced. "Well, if he’s ever looking for more work, send him my way."
Harper laughed, though the sound was forced. "I’ll keep that in mind."
As Karen drifted off to chat with another guest, Harper’s smile faded. The weight of the evening pressed down harder. She didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to be surrounded by people who saw her as a spectacle rather than a person. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and she hated it.
Just as she was about to make her way to a quieter corner of the room, Damien reappeared at her side, his presence like a shield she hadn’t realized she needed.
"Everything clear?" she asked, her voice softer than she intended.
Damien gave a short nod. "For now. But stay close. I don’t like the layout of this place—too many blind spots."
Harper rolled her eyes, though the gesture lacked its usual bite. "Of course you don’t."
But despite her flippant response, she was relieved to have him back at her side. There was something about the way he carried himself, the way he scanned the room without ever seeming out of place, that made her feel... protected. And that protection, that sense of security, was something she wasn’t used to feeling.
The band began to play a slow, melodic tune, and couples started to drift toward the dance floor. Harper watched them for a moment, her heart aching with a strange mixture of longing and sadness. She hadn’t danced in a long time—not like this, not at a glamorous event where everyone’s eyes were on her. It wasn’t that she couldn’t dance; it was that she didn’t often let herself be that vulnerable in public.
"Do you want to dance?"
Damien’s voice startled her, and Harper blinked, turning to face him. He was standing close, his dark eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.
"Are you serious?" she asked, half-expecting him to laugh or brush off the question.
But Damien didn’t flinch. "If you want to dance, I’ll dance with you. It’ll be easier to keep an eye on you that way."
Harper stared at him, trying to read his expression. Was this just part of the job for him? Another way to keep her close, to ensure her safety? Or was there something more to the offer?
She couldn’t tell. Damien was impossible to read, his emotions locked away behind that stoic mask he always wore.
Still, the idea of dancing with him—of being that close to him, even if it was just for the sake of protection—sent a thrill through her that she couldn’t ignore.
"Okay," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Let’s dance."
Damien offered her his hand, and for a moment, Harper hesitated before placing her palm in his. His hand was warm, strong, and the moment their skin touched, a spark shot through her, quick and intense. She tried to ignore it, but it was impossible. The attraction that had been simmering between them for days flared to life, stronger than ever.
They moved to the dance floor, and Damien guided her into position, one hand resting on her lower back, the other holding hers. Harper’s breath caught as their bodies came into close proximity, the heat of him seeping through the layers of her gown.
He was solid, unyielding, like a wall of muscle and strength. But there was something else, too—something more tender in the way he held her, the way his hand rested gently against her back.
They began to move in time with the music, slow and deliberate, and for the first time that evening, Harper felt herself relax. The tension in her shoulders eased as they swayed together, and for a brief moment, the world outside the dance floor faded away.
"Do you dance often?" Harper asked, her voice soft as they moved.
"Not really," Damien replied, his voice low and rumbling. "It’s not usually part of the job."
Harper smiled, amused by the idea of Damien dancing in his spare time. "You’re not bad at it."
He didn’t respond right away, but she felt him tense slightly beneath her hand. "I took lessons once. A long time ago."
Harper looked up at him, surprised by the admission. It was rare for Damien to offer any personal information about himself. He was always so closed off, so guarded. But here, in this moment, it felt like he was letting his walls down—just a little.
"Why did you take lessons?" she asked, genuinely curious.
Damien’s gaze flicked away for a moment, as if he were debating whether or not to answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more vulnerable than she had ever heard it.
"My sister was getting married. She wanted to have a dance with me at the reception, so... I took lessons. To make sure I didn’t embarrass her."
Harper’s heart softened at the thought. She could picture Damien, serious and determined, taking dance lessons just to make his sister happy. It was such a small, simple gesture, but it spoke volumes about the kind of person he was beneath the tough exterior.
"That’s sweet," she said, her voice gentle. "Did you dance with her?"
Damien nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah. She said it was her favorite part of the night."
Harper’s chest tightened with emotion. She hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected Damien to be so... human. He had always seemed larger than life, almost untouchable in his professionalism and focus. But here, in this quiet moment on the dance floor, she saw a different side of him. A side that made her heart ache with the desire to know more.
They continued to dance in silence, the music washing over them, and Harper allowed herself to enjoy the moment. She rested her head against Damien’s chest, closing her eyes as they moved in sync with the music. For the first time in days, she felt at peace.
But the peace didn’t last.
Suddenly, Damien’s body went rigid beneath her hand, and Harper’s eyes snapped open. She felt him tense, his grip on her tightening as he scanned the room with a sharpness that set her pulse racing.
"What is it?" she whispered, her heart pounding in her chest.
Damien didn’t answer right away. His eyes were fixed on something across the room, his jaw clenched tight. Harper followed his gaze, her stomach twisting with dread.
There, standing near the entrance, was a man in a dark suit. He was staring directly at her, his expression cold and calculating. Harper didn’t recognize him, but the look in his eyes sent a chill down her spine.
"Stay close to me," Damien murmured, his voice low and deadly serious. "We’re leaving. Now."
Harper’s heart raced as she clung to Damien’s arm, her mind spinning with fear. Who was this man? Was he the one behind the threats? And how had he found her here?
They moved quickly off the dance floor, weaving through the crowd with a quiet urgency. Harper kept her head down, her pulse pounding in her ears as Damien guided her toward the nearest exit.
"Damien—" she began, her voice shaky.
"Not now," he cut her off, his tone sharp but protective. "Just keep moving."
They reached the exit, and Damien pushed open the door, pulling Harper outside into the cool night air. She stumbled slightly, her heels catching on the cobblestone walkway, but Damien steadied her with a firm hand on her waist.
The valet hurried to bring their car around, and within moments, they were back in the SUV, speeding away from the venue. Harper’s heart was still racing, her mind a whirlwind of fear and confusion.
"Who was that man?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Damien’s jaw was clenched tight as he drove, his eyes fixed on the road. "I don’t know. But he was watching you."
Harper swallowed hard, her chest tightening with panic. "Do you think he’s the one who’s been threatening me?"
"I don’t know," Damien said, his voice low and controlled. "But we’re not taking any chances."
They drove in silence for a few more minutes, the tension in the car thick and suffocating. Harper could feel the fear crawling up her spine, making it hard to breathe.
"I thought we were safe there," she whispered, more to herself than to Damien. "There were so many people..."
"There’s no such thing as safe," Damien said, his voice hard. "Not until we find out who’s behind this."
Harper stared out the window, her mind spinning with thoughts of the man at the gala, the coldness in his eyes, the way he had watched her with such intensity. She had been so focused on her work, on maintaining her public image, that she hadn’t fully grasped the danger she was in. But now, it was impossible to ignore.
She wasn’t just a target. She was being hunted.
And Damien was the only thing standing between her and whoever wanted to hurt her.
As they pulled up to her house, Damien parked the car and turned to face her, his expression softening slightly. "I’m going to stay with you tonight. Inside the house."
Harper didn’t argue this time. She didn’t have the energy to. All she wanted was to feel safe, to feel like someone was there to protect her.
"Okay," she whispered, her voice trembling.
They walked inside together, the house eerily quiet in the darkness. Harper’s mind was still spinning, the fear gnawing at her insides, but she forced herself to focus on the present. Damien was here. She wasn’t alone.
Damien checked every room, every window, making sure everything was secure before returning to the living room, where Harper sat on the couch, her arms wrapped around herself.
He stood there for a moment, watching her, his expression unreadable. And then, without a word, he sat down beside her.
For a long time, they didn’t speak. They just sat there, the silence heavy but comforting. Harper leaned into Damien, her body trembling slightly from the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. She didn’t know why she felt so drawn to him, why his presence made her feel so safe, but she couldn’t deny the pull between them any longer.
"Damien," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Thank you. For everything."
He didn’t respond, but she felt his arm wrap around her shoulders, pulling her closer. And for the first time in days, Harper allowed herself to let go, to lean on someone else.
She wasn’t alone anymore.
