Owned by Night

The music throbbed through the floor, each beat pulsing under the soles of my heels like the heartbeat of the city itself. I tugged at the hem of my dress – too short, too tight – and glanced at Lila. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, lips already curved in a playful grin as she led me further into the club.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," I muttered, scanning the dimly lit space. Eclipse wasn't exactly my usual scene. Velvet shadows, flashing gold lights, and the kind of atmosphere that felt heavy with secrets and seduction. It was the kind of place I imagined power players frequented – not struggling law students drowning in debt.

"Oh, come on." Lila laughed, tugging me closer as we maneuvered through the crowded floor. "You've been a stressed-out hermit for weeks. This is exactly what you need. One night to forget about briefs and contracts."

I sighed, loosening the knot in my shoulders as I allowed her words to sink in. Maybe she was right. Maybe I needed to step outside the carefully constructed walls of my life.

I followed her to the bar, sliding onto the edge of a leather stool. The surface was cool beneath my bare thighs. Lila ordered us drinks, chatting up the bartender while I let my gaze wander.

The room was a swirl of movement and low voices. People laughed too loudly, hands touching too freely. The air practically hummed with the promise of indulgence.

And then I saw him.

I almost didn't notice at first – he was too still, too composed, sitting at the far end of the bar like he owned the place. Sharp suit, dark hair, and eyes that gleamed like steel under the low lights. He didn't blend into the crowd. He stood out, not because he wanted to be seen, but because he didn't care if he was.

His gaze flicked to mine, locking on like he'd caught me staring – which he had.

I flushed, tearing my eyes away as heat crept up the back of my neck.

"Who are you blushing over?" Lila leaned in, smirking knowingly as she followed my gaze.

"No one," I said quickly. "Just... people watching."

Lila arched a brow, unimpressed. "That's Damien Blackwell."

I blinked. "You know him?"

"Not personally. But he's... well, let's just say he's notorious."

Notorious. I didn't ask for details, but the word lingered in my mind like an aftertaste.

"Careful with that one," Lila whispered. "Guys like him chew girls up and spit them out."

I laughed softly. "Don't worry. I'm not looking to get chewed up."

Still, when I risked another glance toward Damien Blackwell, he was watching me again. This time, he didn't look away.

A slow, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at his lips.

I swallowed hard, reaching for the drink Lila slid in front of me.

It's just one night, I told myself. One drink, one glance. And then I go home.

But Damien had other plans.

---

I didn't notice him approach until he was standing beside me, his presence as unmistakable as the heavy scent of whiskey and cedar that lingered around him.

"You're not enjoying yourself," he said smoothly, voice low enough that I felt it more than heard it.

I stiffened, glancing at him. Up close, Damien Blackwell was even more devastating. Chiseled jaw, eyes that didn't just look at me but seemed to see through me.

"I'm enjoying myself just fine," I replied, lifting my drink.

"You're lying."

The way he said it, so certain, made me bristle. "And you know that because...?"

He leaned in slightly, his elbow brushing the bar. "I know the look of someone who's trying to convince herself she's having a good time. I see it a lot."

I raised a brow, sipping from my glass to hide the way my pulse quickened under his gaze. "Maybe you should mind your own business."

"Maybe," he agreed. But he didn't move away.

I hated how aware I was of him – of the way his eyes traced the curve of my bare shoulders, of the subtle but possessive weight of his attention.

"Damien Blackwell," he said, as if I didn't already know.

"Ava Sinclair."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Ava." He tested my name on his tongue like it was something he could taste.

I should've excused myself. I should've smiled politely and walked away, but I stayed.

"Let me buy you a drink," Damien said, his gaze dipping to the half-empty glass in my hand.

I tilted my head. "I already have one."

"Not that." He waved to the bartender. "Two bourbon sours."

I blinked. "I didn't say I wanted-"

"You'll like it."

His confidence was maddening, but something about it... intrigued me.

Minutes later, the bartender slid the drink in front of me. I lifted it to my lips hesitantly, tasting the smoky sweetness. It lingered on my tongue longer than it should have.

"See?" Damien said, his gaze fixed on my mouth. "Better."

"Maybe," I admitted.

A long silence stretched between us, the club fading into a distant hum around me.

"You shouldn't look at me like that," Damien murmured after a while.

I blinked. "Like what?"

"Like you want me to kiss you."

My breath hitched, and I looked away quickly. "I don't."

Another lie.

Damien chuckled softly, and I hated how much I liked the sound.

"I think you like danger, Ava," he said, brushing his knuckles lightly over the side of my arm. The touch was brief but enough to leave a trail of heat in its wake. "Maybe even more than you realize."

I swallowed hard. "I'm not looking for trouble."

"But trouble's looking for you."

He was too close. His words, his scent, his body – it all pressed against me in ways that made it hard to think.

"I should go," I whispered, more to myself than to him.

Damien's hand found my wrist before I could stand. "Stay."

I should've pulled away. But I didn't.

---

Damien's penthouse was everything I expected – sleek, sophisticated, and cold, with floor-to-ceiling windows that stretched out to the glittering New York skyline.

I wasn't sure how I ended up here. I barely remembered the ride over, only the feeling of Damien's hand resting lightly on my thigh the entire way.

"Drink?" he offered, tossing his jacket over the back of a chair.

I shook my head, my mouth suddenly too dry.

I felt him move behind me, his presence like a shadow that wrapped around my spine.

"You can still leave," Damien said softly, his voice a dangerous whisper against my ear. "Say the word, and I'll call you a car."

I exhaled shakily.

"Do you want to leave?" he asked.

I turned to face him.

"No," I said.

The moment I answered, his mouth was on mine – rough, demanding, leaving no space between us. I barely registered the sensation of his hands sliding down the length of my back before he lifted me, pressing me against the cold glass of the window.

"Mine tonight," Damien growled, his breath hot against my neck.

I knew I should care. But I didn't.

For tonight, I was his.