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Assistant: Title: One Night, One Billion
        Author: Ettawrites Ettawrites 
        Chapter: 10/10 
        Summary: Years have passed since the days of Eden Academy. Anya Forger, now 24, is an accomplished behavioral psychologist with a private practice in Berlint. She’s known for her unconventional brilliance and uncanny intuition.Damian Desmond, 25, heir to the Desmond Group, has taken over the empire from his father. He’s colder now, refined, calculated but he never forgot the pink-haired girl who always managed to get under his skin.Anya is engaged to Alex Mercier, a charming architect who helped design much of the city’s revitalized skyline. Everyone knew how happy they were, but stability has been elusive. The bills pile up. Projects start to fall through until Damian makes the proposition of a lifetime.One night with Anya for a billion dalcs.-Inspired by the film Indecent Proposal-
        Contents: Chapter 10
    

    

        
          
          
            In the aftermath of the evening rain, subtle confessions are made.
          
        

      
        
          To everyone who thought they'd end up kissing—SYKE, not yet! 😆 It's just not the right moment for them… but who knows what the future holds!
            
            (See the end of the chapter for  more notes.)
            
      
  

  
  
    
    It was like the contact had branded them—searing through restraint, leaving behind only the ache of what hovered just out of reach.Damian’s fingers lingered at her neck, like he was holding the last good thing in a world gone sideways. The universe narrowed to the slope of her jaw, the tremble in her breath the almost-too-inviting parting of her lips. It would’ve taken nothing—one stupid breath, one careless surrender—to erase the line he was desperately trying to hold.But no, of course not.He leaned back—slow, deliberate, agonizing—unwinding his hand from her like it cost him something vital. Every part of him screamed to stay, to lean in and wreck everything like the fool he was. But he pulled away, someone had to anyway.Anya’s eyes opened, dazed and raw. That look nearly broke him.Damian stepped back like distance could somehow shield them from the d@mn hurricane they’d stirred up. Jaw clenched tight enough to break, chest rising and falling like he’d just survived a war zone—and maybe he had, in his own messed-up way. And barely.His gaze burned into hers, darker now—lit with something sharp and unspoken. Desire, but more than that. Reverence. Regret. Restraint.She was still engaged, to a fool who didn’t deserve her, sure. She’d chosen him nonetheless, built a life with. He would not be the man who cracked that foundation just to get what he wanted. Because love, real love, wasn’t a d@mn excuse for falling apart. That wasn’t love, not in the slightest.He wasn’t about to be the @ssh@l@ who shows up and shatters whatever fragile peace she’s holding onto just because he can’t keep his hands to himself.Ironically, the one who had loved her the longest was the only one who seemed to understand that sometimes, love means waiting. Not charging in or breaking things just to get what you want. Funny how life worked out like that.“I’m not doing this,” he said, voice hoarse, barely above a breath. “God, Anya. How I wish I would. But I won’t.”The words hit like a sucker punch. She blinked, mouth opening and closing, scrambling for something—anything—that made sense. Her heart pounded, wild and uneven, chasing the confusion spiraling through her. Disbelief, hope, and that stubborn whisper of maybe tangled in her chest.She tried to piece together what had just happened—what almost happened. Trying to make sense of the ache in her chest and the raw edge in his voice.The distance between them didn’t feel like distance at all. It felt like gravity with nowhere to go.“Damian—I... I didn’t mean to...” she started, then faltered, words unraveling in her mouth. She didn’t even know what she was apologizing for—just that the silence was unbearable.Guilt clawed at her throat. Not just for the moment itself—but for how easy it had been to forget Alex, the ring, everything except the way Damian had looked at her a moment ago.He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He couldn’t speak, actually. Probably too afraid that if he opened his mouth again, the lie might crumble. That he’d say something selfish.I’m still hopelessly in love with you.Choose me.
  Please, don’t love him.
He wouldn’t dare to say something so reckless.“I’m not doing it like this,” he said softly, like it physically hurt to get the words out. “Not while you’re engaged. Not while it’s him... and not me.”He stepped back again. Just a little. Like that would help him breathe. It didn’t.“I’m sorry,” he added, voice hoarse and fraying at the edges. “I shouldn’t have let it get that far, I do know better—but I let myself forget for a second, and that was enough to cross a line I had no right to approach. I wasn’t thinking about what it might do to you and didn’t think about how you’d feel afterward, and that... that was me being completely selfish… you don’t deserve to be caught in the middle of that.”The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She tried to make sense of them, but her thoughts were still stumbling over the pieces that didn’t fit. Her heart thudded in her chest as she opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
  Not while you’re engaged. Not while it’s him… and not me.
Her heart thudded—loud, panicked, disoriented—trying to catch up to something it already knew before her brain could.What if—after all this time—he really…?No. That was stupid. It was a fantasy. It had to be. Because that couldn’t mean what it sounded like. Because he couldn’t mean her—not like that. Not now. Not after everything.Now he was standing in front of her, all intensity and restraint and that g@dd@mn look in his eyes like she was his heartbreak.“Wait—what do you mean ‘not me’?” Her voice cracked as she asked it, shaky and confused. “What does that even mean?”Damian ran a hand through his rain-soaked hair, exhaling softly. He looked away, like he hoped the storm outside might wash him clean of this.She had no clue what he’d say next.Maybe something impulsive. Something dramatic. Something so loud it’d drown out the mess in her head and force her to decide already—because Damian had this annoying habit of crashing in and making everything harder and simpler at the same time, usually without even trying.He didn’t, instead, he put space between her and a fire she hadn’t realized she’d lit. For a brutal second, she felt like a lost puppy, ashamed that the first thing in her mind hadn’t been Alex—not until the space opened up between her and Damian.“I mean…” He paused, his voice low, the weight of the admission heavy on his chest. “It means what you think it means.”Anya stood there, still suspended in the echo of a moment that had nearly swallowed them both whole. Her skin still buzzed where he’d touched her and her heart felt like it had slipped out of rhythm entirely.Still… there was this stupid, traitorous ache that wanted him to close the distance between them again.When he said he couldn’t kiss her like this, she should have felt relieved. She should have backed away, made a joke, changed the subject—anything to make it easier.Instead, it felt like she’d swallowed glass. Then, the thought hit her: Why the hell am I disappointed?As the feeling simmered, a colder truth crept up her spine: maybe that’s what scared her the most. Not the kiss she didn’t get, but the fact that she wanted it.“Okay, see, that’s not helpful,” she muttered. “Because I think it means something… but also maybe nothing… and possibly everything? So which one is it?”Damian gave a short, tired laugh, as if he couldn’t believe they were having this conversation now. His hand dragged slowly over his face, worn and defeated.Because he wanted her. That wasn’t up for debate, it never had been. Not when they were kids and she lit up rooms without meaning to. Not when she reappeared in his life like a ghost he’d never stopped mourning. Especially not now, with her standing there, uncertain and wrecked and beautiful in a way that hurt to look at.But not like this. Not in the aftermath of a moment that would haunt her.So he bit back everything—pleading, confessions, the truths threatening to rise in his throat.Because love, the real kind, the one who stays— waits, honors, doesn’t pull people apart just to get what it wants. Anya Forger was still trying to carry the weight of promises made to someone who never deserved them. She wasn’t ready to see that yet.“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” he said, quietly. “I want it to mean everything. Not just to me—but for you, too.” He shook his head. “And as much as I hate admitting it... that’s not going to happen like this.”She didn’t move, didn’t blink. Her eyes stayed on him, trying to memorize every flicker of his expression, every breath that might carry the words she couldn’t say first. The tension was unbearable now—electric, terrible, beautiful—louder than any argument, heavier than silence.“Just say it, Damian. Please.” Her voice cracked under the weight of it. “I need…” She swallowed hard, trying to steady the trembling in her voice. “I need you to say it.”She didn’t even know exactly what she was asking for. Or maybe she had always known, buried beneath pride, practicality, and the lie that she’d moved on. It had never left. It had only grown quieter, rooting itself beneath everything she’d built in his absence.Anya needed to know this wasn’t madness. That it wasn’t just nostalgia or the ache of being seen again. She needed to hear that what lingered between them had a name—and that she hadn’t imagined it all those years ago, or now. Three words. That was all. And she would fall.She was practically begging him.Part of him wanted to give her the truth, to hand it over like a lifeline—say it so plainly there’d be no going back. But it wasn’t that simple. Not while she was still tethered to someone else, no matter how frayed the knot.Not unless she saw it herself. Choose it herself.So, he said nothing. Only looked at her—his eyes wide, unguarded, bleeding everything he couldn’t say. Hope. Ache. A grief born from loving someone too much to be their mistake.“I can’t,” he whispered, the words barely audible, too heavy to bear. “Not now. Not when you’re still engaged to that dreadful man. You deserve more than a stolen moment.”Damian looked at her like she was everything he wanted—and everything he couldn’t have.Her heart dropped, heavy and fast, like it had been yanked straight out of her chest. The weight of it landed hard in her stomach, stealing the breath from her lungs before she could catch it.The silence stretched, taut and painful—like the heavy pause before a storm broke. The words they hadn’t said hung in the air, sharp as thunder, as if the room itself was holding its breath.Then his gaze flicked—barely a second—but it was enough.He looked at her mouth.A quiet little betrayal of restraint. She saw how his eyes lingered there, how something inside them darkened and softened at once. Longing. Regret. Hunger—but not the kind a kiss could dull. This was the deeper kind, carved over years, fed on memory. He didn’t just want her—he craved her.His eyes met hers again, and something inside him cracked.“You don’t get it,” Damian said, voice low, steady even through the strain. “I’ve wanted to be like this with you since I was a teenage boy. Before I even understood what that meant. Except not like this. Not when you’re hurting. Not when you’re still figuring out what all of this means. I’m reckless, Anya, not cruel.”A wry smile ghosted across his lips. “Most days, at least.”It came out like the truth—raw, sharp, and painful. A boundary drawn by someone who didn’t want to draw it, but would anyway. Because she mattered more than his moment of selfishness.The words hit her like cold water, seizing her breath. She blinked quickly, but the sting didn’t fade. His rejection wasn’t cruel—it was careful. Kind. Crushing.“I want to be the reason you feel whole, not the thing that makes everything worse. I couldn’t live with that. Even if it means walking away now… even if it kills me a little.”He loved her enough, not to let her go, but to let her choose.Her hands trembled, hovering between them, caught in indecision. She wanted to grab him, scream, hold him—but the words wouldn’t come. She was trapped in a limbo, unsure of what to feel, unsure of what was right.Damian’s eyes were dark with regret and resolve, a quiet storm in his chest. He swallowed hard, his throat tight. “You go figure out what you want. On your own. I won’t interfere.”“And you?” Her voice cracked, laced with something almost childlike in its desperation. The space between them felt unbridgeable now—like he’d already begun disappearing from her orbit.“I’ll wait,” he said.Just that simple, devastating. The simplicity of it was almost more than she could bear. His gaze never wavered, even as his words shattered everything she thought she understood.“For you,” he added, after a beat. “Hopefully, just... in case it ever is me.”Her breath hitched at the finality in his voice, at the quiet vulnerability he was laying bare. It was the most honest he’d been—and the most broken she’d ever seen him.“I meant what I said,” he murmured. “This isn’t me walking away. It’s me… making room.”She nodded, the gesture barely there but weighted with everything she couldn’t say.One step back. Then another. She felt the ground shift beneath her feet, her heart splintering as she pulled away, as if moving from him could ease the ache.Damian walked near the door, one hand on the knob. He looked like he wanted to say something—but couldn’t decide which version of himself to speak from. The bold one. The bitter one. The boy who’d loved her in silence for years and never had the spine to say a d@mn word.“I want to be the choice you make,” he said, his voice nearly lost in the hush of the rain outside. “Not the mistake you run to.”Anya leaned back against the couch, arms still folded, but the tension in her posture had drained. She didn’t look like she was about to fight him—more like she didn’t know how to fight this.Damian glanced at her, and for one impossible heartbeat, the storm between them held its breath.With his hand still on the door. His mouth quirked, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “Tell your fiancé his taste in clothes is as tragic as his personality.”A pause, just long enough for the air to tighten again. “Though, I’ll give him credit for one thing—he had good taste once.”Anya blinked. “What was that?” she dared to ask.Turning slowly, Damian locked eyes with her—intense, burning, and completely unguarded. His look said everything without a word.No words. Just heat. Devotion. Frustration. Hunger and heartbreak. Like she was the only g@dd@mn thing Alex had ever gotten right—and the one thing he’d never, ever deserved.Anya couldn’t look at him anymore. The intensity in his eyes, the clarity, made her feel exposed in places she didn’t know were still vulnerable. Her stomach twisted. Her pulse was a live wire.He should’ve left then, just walked away clean.Instead, he lingered. Just a second too long.Then, without a word, Damian turned around and stepped forward towards her—slow, deliberate, like every step toward her might be the last he was allowed to take. His eyes never left hers, unreadable and burning.Reaching up, careful as if she might shatter, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered. Just a moment. Just long enough to memorize the feel of her skin.Anya didn’t breathe. Couldn’t. The air between them buzzed, heavy with all the things that had gone unsaid. All the things that couldn’t be.His expression softened—something too fragile to be safe, a glimpse of goodbye hidden behind those golden eyes.“Thanks,” he murmured, voice low, reverent, the quiet confession slipping out like a prayer, “for not letting me freeze to death.”Then, slow as if giving her every chance to stop him, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to her cheek.It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t casual. It was the kind of kiss that spoke volumes without a single word. Tender, devastating, anchored in a longing so patient it felt like it might break her.Then he stepped back, with a sincere smile on his face, he finally said. “Goodnight, Anya.”Anya stood frozen long after the door clicked shut behind him. Her fingers kept brushing the spot on her cheek, where his lips had pressed so carefully — like a secret left behind, impossible to ignore. The warmth still lingered, but so did the ache.
  He said he’d wait for me.
The beat of her heart thudded hard — maybe too hard — like it wanted to burst through her ribs, set her whole world on fire. But she wouldn’t let herself believe it. Couldn’t. Her fingers drifted to her cheek—the spot still tingling, warm with the echo of him. It wasn’t the kiss she expected—not after everything—but it cut deeper than anything else could. It rang like a bell. Like a memory. Like a warning.She reached up again, tracing the spot like she needed to prove to herself it was real, not just a ghost of hope.“Dumb Syon-boy.” she muttered, voice rough, pacing in a tight, jittery circle. Then, grabbing the throw pillow from the couch, she screamed into it with a fury that felt years overdue.Anya’s chest tightened in a way that wasn’t quite painful—not yet. More like a spark, barely catching flame. Damian’s words, his voice, the way he looked at her… it stirred something deep down, something she’d been expertly avoiding for years.
  Could it be that he actually… loves me? Haha, yeah right. No way, that’s insane.
However, there was something in his golden eyes, they weren’t their usual razor-sharp, sarcastic glare; they were softer, caught somewhere between hope and heartbreak. The softness in his voice, the way his eyes didn’t look away—they held her, steady and open, like he was confessing a truth he’d buried deep.That smile—half shy—twisted something inside her. It was so d@mn him, but also so un-him at the same time. Like the real Damian, the one who didn’t always hide behind jokes and sarcasm, was standing there.Her chest tangled with fear and hope, a slow-burning ache she didn’t know how to name. The thought that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t alone in this—was theirs—was both terrifying and intoxicating.There was the persistent feeling that she couldn’t let herself fall all the way. Not yet. Not without hearing it plain.And still… a small part of her was already lost in the possibility.Her fingers brushed her cheek again—this time slower, more reverent, like maybe if she held on just a little longer, she could learn to breathe again.
  
  

    
      
        
        
          I hope I’ve captured just how deep and genuine Damian's feelings for Anya really are and how hard this decision was.As always, please let me know what you think of this chapter. Do you think the almost kiss scene was too much? let me know your opinions or theories about it:)'
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