Daimen's Pov...
I swear I wasn't trying to find her.
That's what I kept telling myself as I walked the dim hallway, the marble floor cold under my bare feet, the villa quiet except for the distant crash of waves. Everyone else was asleep. I should've been too. But my head was loud. Too loud. So I walked, pretending I was just getting water, pretending I didn't notice the faint crack of light under her door.
Daisy.
And then, like a curse summoned by my thoughts, her door opened.
She didn't even see me at first. She stepped out with her phone in hand, hair falling messily down her shoulders, drowning in that oversized T-shirt she loved to pretend wasn't hers. My mother probably gave it to her years ago. And somehow that made it worse — that soft comfort on her, reminding me she wasn't supposed to belong to anything dangerous.
Especially not to me.
She froze when she finally noticed me. "Damien?"
Her voice was soft. Too soft for the hour. Too soft for someone I'd spent the last four years trying to pretend I couldn't hear.
"You should lock your door," I said, tone flat, like I hadn't spent the entire day watching her from the corner of my damn eye.
Her brows pinched. "Why? What's in this house that I should be scared of?"
Me.
The word sat in my throat like a stone. I didn't say it. Instead, I stepped closer, because apparently my self-control had clocked out for the night.
"Just lock it," I murmured.
She blinked up at me, and the hallway suddenly felt too small. Too warm. Her perfume was faint — something affordable, something simple — but it dug under my ribs harder than any expensive scent Lola drowned herself in.
"You're acting weird," she whispered.
"You're imagining things," I lied.
She took a step back, and I should've let her. I should've moved away. Instead I followed, slow, like she was gravity and I was the one being pulled.
Her back touched the wall.
I stopped an inch from her without meaning to.
Her breath hitched.
Mine stopped altogether.
Up close, I noticed things I had no business noticing — the faint freckles she tried to hide, the tired purple under her eyes, the little scar near her jaw she got when she was thirteen. I remembered how it happened. I remembered everything about her more than I allowed myself to admit.
"Damien…" She whispered my name like it meant something. Like it was something she tasted and wasn't sure she should want.
I reached up before I realized my hand was even moving.
Just to tuck her hair behind her ear.
Just to tell myself that was all I wanted.
But the second my fingers brushed her skin?
My world tilted.
She looked up at me, wide-eyed, breath trembling. And I swear—if I leaned forward half an inch, our lips would touch. I could practically feel the warmth of her mouth. Her hand hovered at my chest like she didn't know if she wanted to push me away or pull me closer.
Her lips parted.
God.
I shouldn't want this.
I shouldn't want her.
She was my step-sister.
My mother adored her.
Jallen treated her like trash.
Everyone thought I was cold.
But I knew better — I knew exactly how dangerous I could be.
And Daisy…
Daisy was soft.
Sweet.
Breakable.
Everything I shouldn't touch.
Her eyes flicked to my mouth. One second. Maybe two. Long enough to kill the last ounce of sense I had.
I leaned in—
and she flinched.
Not because she was scared.
But because she realized where this was heading.
Her palm pressed weakly against my chest. "Damien… I should sleep."
The hallway snapped back into focus. The ocean. The walls. The consequences.
I stepped back so fast it almost looked like she'd burned me.
"Go," I said, voice rougher than it should've been.
She hesitated, then slipped into her room. The door shut quietly.
And that was it.
Moment over.
But I was frozen there like an idiot, staring at a blank door, breathing like I'd been running for miles.
Then the crash hit.
I dragged both hands over my face, muffling a curse. "Idiot."
What the hell was that?
What was I doing leaning into her like that?
What was I becoming?
I marched back to my room, each step heavier than the last. The second I entered, I shut the door harder than necessary and leaned against it, head thudding back.
"She's your step-sister," I muttered to myself.
"Your mother is here."
"She trusts you."
"And you're acting like a wild animal."
I paced the room, jaw clenched, heartbeat still punching at my ribs. The ghost of her skin still tingled on my fingertips.
I turned the shower on cold. I didn't even think. I just stepped under it, letting icy water hit me like punishment.
"This stops," I hissed to the empty room.
"This never happens again."
"Whatever this… nonsense is — it dies here."
Crush. Attraction. Curiosity. Temptation. Whatever name it deserved, I buried it right there with freezing water running down my back.
I swore — literally swore — that I was going to avoid her, ignore her, lock myself back into being the emotionless bastard everyone thought I was.
Because wanting Daisy was a disaster waiting to happen.
And I wasn't going to be the one who ruined her.
Not again. Not ever.