Chapter 5 Playing With Fire

Ivy's body tensed as Damien carried her effortlessly through the halls, his grip firm but controlled. The scent of burning fabric still clung to the air, the distant sound of his men extinguishing the flames barely registering in her mind. This was not how she expected things to go. "Put me down, Wolfe," she hissed, twisting in his grasp. Damien ignored her. His pace never faltered, not even when she dug her nails into his back in protest. His strength was infuriating, the way he carried her like she weighed nothing—a mere inconvenience rather than a woman who had just set his mansion on fire. "Where are you taking me?" she demanded, kicking her legs. "Somewhere we can talk," he said, his voice as steady as ever. Ivy scowled. "We were talking just fine at dinner." "You call that talking?" Damien scoffed, finally stopping in front of a heavy black door. With a flick of his wrist, he pushed it open and stepped inside. Ivy barely had time to register the dimly lit room before Damien tossed her down onto a plush leather couch. She bounced slightly, catching herself on her elbows, eyes narrowing as she glared up at him. The door clicked shut behind him. Her heart hammered. The room was different from the rest of the mansion. No grand chandeliers, no cold perfection. Instead, the space was darker and cozier. A bar lined one wall, shelves stacked with expensive liquor. A fireplace crackled in the corner, casting flickering shadows across the bookshelves and the black marble floors. A private lounge. Damien loosened the cuffs of his shirt, his gaze locked onto hers as he took a slow step forward. "You want to tell me what that little stunt was about?" Ivy crossed her arms, lifting her chin defiantly. "Oh, you mean the fire? Just a test." Damien arched a brow. "A test?" She smirked. "To see if your security was as good as you think it is." Silence stretched between them. Then, to her surprise, Damien exhaled a quiet chuckle. It was low, dangerous, a sound that sent a shiver down Ivy’s spine. "You're either brave," he murmured, "or incredibly stupid." Ivy's smirk widened. "I’d like to think I’m a bit of both." Damien studied her for a long moment. The way his dark eyes traced her expression, searching, calculating, made her stomach twist in ways she didn’t like. Then, before she could react, he moved. In a blink, he was in front of her, gripping the arm of the couch, caging her in. Ivy’s breath hitched. "You want my attention?" he murmured, his voice dangerously low. "You have it." Heat flared between them, the intensity of his gaze making it hard to breathe. But Ivy refused to be the one to look away first. "Good," she said, forcing herself to sound unaffected. "I’d hate to be ignored." Damien exhaled sharply, shaking his head. He straightened, stepping back. "You’re exhausting." Ivy rolled her eyes. "And you're predictable." That got a reaction. Damien smirked, tilting his head slightly. "Oh? Do tell." She shrugged, shifting on the couch. "You act like you're untouchable. Like nothing fazes you. But I think you're just a man who likes control. And when someone disrupts that control, you don’t know what to do with them." Something dark flickered in Damien’s gaze. He didn’t respond immediately, and that silence alone told Ivy she had struck a nerve. Then, he turned, walking toward the bar. He poured himself a drink, the sound of ice clinking against the glass filling the space between them. "You think you have me figured out," he mused, taking a slow sip. Ivy leaned back against the couch. "I think I’m getting close." Damien chuckled again, shaking his head. "You’re playing a dangerous game, Ivy." She tilted her head. "And yet, you’re the one who refuses to let me go." Damien swirled the amber liquid in his glass, watching her over the rim. "Because you called my name." Ivy’s stomach clenched. He kept saying that. As if her single act of desperation had somehow bound her to him. Her voice was quieter when she asked, "Why did you take me?" Damien didn't answer right away. He finished his drink, setting the glass down with a soft clink before finally meeting her gaze. "Because I was curious." Ivy frowned. "Curious about what?" His lips quirked into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Why a woman who had everything would end up in a place like that, calling for me." Ivy's throat tightened. For a moment, she thought about telling him. About the betrayal, the way Oliver had stolen everything from her. About Celeste’s cruel smirk, about how her father had turned his back without hesitation. But she didn't. If there was one thing she knew about men like Damien Wolfe, it was that they thrived on information. The less he knew about her, the better. Instead, she smiled. "Maybe I just have a thing for dangerous men." Damien's expression didn’t change, but there was something sharp in his gaze, something that told her he wasn’t buying it. He took a step closer, voice dropping. "You think you’re playing me, don’t you?" Ivy shrugged. "I think we’re playing each other." A heavy pause stretched between them, thick with tension. Then, to her surprise, Damien smirked. A real one this time. "I think I’m going to enjoy this," he murmured. Ivy’s pulse quickened, but she forced herself to keep her expression neutral. "Glad to know I’m entertaining." Damien turned away, grabbing his jacket off the chair. "You’re staying here. No more fires. No more games." Ivy leaned back, watching him. "And if I don’t listen?" He glanced over his shoulder. "Then I’ll have to teach you how to obey." Her stomach twisted, but she refused to let him see any reaction. Instead, she smirked. "Good luck with that, Wolfe." Damien chuckled as he left, the door clicking shut behind him. The moment he was gone, Ivy let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her heart was still racing. Because for the First time since she had arrived, she realized something terrifying. She had wanted to see that reaction from him. And that was dangerous.