Bullet ✔️

Chapter 17

I plastered on a polite smile and shook my head. "No, he's single," I said, hoping that they would jump him and keep him away from me for the rest of the night—even though I wanted to say, "Yes, back off."

"He's gorgeous," the other girl said, "and the way he looked at you? I wished anyone would look at me like that."

Her words forced me to think about how many people could actually see our tiny conversation, and how he edged closer and closer until he whispered to me. I was suddenly hit with a wave of panic; Damian was there that night when everything went up in smoke. What if something like that happened at this wedding too? I swallowed and finished taking pictures of the posing girls, before they looked at each other and set off towards the bar.

My head was spinning in and out of control for hours. My trigger finger ran on auto pilot whenever people posed in front of the green backdrop, and when no one did I did my best to capture sweet moments between the blushing bride and her new husband. I knew every part of this job by heart, and though I didn't want to, I strained my ears to listen for a ticking bomb.

"Clever." Damian appeared next to me, one hand in his pocket, the other around a glass of whiskey. "To tell those girls I was single, I mean. Good to know you aren't the jealous type."

"Why would I be? You didn't want me," I replied without hiding the snark to my comment.

"Oh, I want you, sweetheart," he said, darkening his voice. It was hard to tell whether it was something that just happened, or if he did it on purpose to light a fire between my legs. "It was you who didn't want me and my darkness."

He leaned closer. I could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"I'm seeing someone," I blurted out, looking away from him to focus on the people that stood ready to be photographed.

I snapped a few photos while he was silent next to me. Then I felt his hand on my lower back, and the warmth of his breath against my ear as he whispered, "Who?"

"Someone I like," I replied, trying to keep my focus.

As much as I was ready to call it quits with William, because the sparks weren't coming, I still told him I wasn't available. Why, I didn't really know. We'd been on two more dates and he still hadn't tried to do anything other than kiss me. I liked him, I didn't lie about that, but there was nothing that made me want more.

With Damian, however, my whole body begged me to turn into his embrace and let him ravage me.

"I'm the jealous type," he then rasped.

His cheek moved against mine, and I said, "I liked your stubbles," just to change the subject.

The tiniest of chuckles escaped his throat, and I made the mistake of looking his way when he took a step back from me. His eyes held me captive for a few long seconds, before he asked, "Does your boyfriend make you happy?"

I wished he hadn't.

Lying was something I was never good at, and I couldn't believe I was about to lie to Damian Strac, of all people. "We're still pretty fresh—"

"Is that a yes, or a no?" He raised an eyebrow, challenging me.

"I—"

"Isabelle! There you are! We're about to serve the cake, and I wanted a lovely picture of us feeding it to each other!" The bride came to my rescue, holding onto my arm as she pulled me away from the booth and Damian.

I gave him an apologetic look before I started walking with the bride, and kept doing my job.

I didn't see Damian after the cake was cut and served, and I wasn't sure if the empty feeling in my chest meant I wanted to, or if I was relieved I didn't. Anyway, the wedding was a success. My worries of a bomb was never a reality, and after my last run-in with the mafia underboss, I didn't think about it anymore.