Chapter 2: The First Snare

The next morning, the campus felt different—like the air itself was charged, humming with something I couldn’t quite shake off.

I told myself it was paranoia. Damien Leclair was nothing to me. Just another arrogant heir who thought the world was his playground. If I ignored him, he’d get bored. Move on.

That was the plan.

But plans have a way of crumbling when Damien’s involved.

---

I slipped into my first lecture early, hoping to claim a seat at the back. The hall was massive, high-ceilinged with rows of polished wooden desks that smelled faintly of varnish and privilege. My laptop was old and slow, humming like it might die at any moment, but it was mine. I set it up, ready to drown myself in notes.

The room began to fill. Whispers and laughter bounced around me, groups of students sticking together like glue.

Then the atmosphere shifted.

Damien walked in.

He didn’t just enter a room—he owned it. Every eye followed him, every conversation faltered. His blazer hung open, shirt untucked just enough to look effortless but still calculated. The professor wasn’t even here yet, but Damien had already claimed the stage.

And then his gaze swept the hall—until it landed on me.

My pulse tripped.

He didn’t look away. Didn’t even blink. Just started walking—straight down the aisle, ignoring the dozen empty seats around him, ignoring the girls whispering his name, ignoring the guys trying to catch his attention.

He slid into the seat next to mine.

Too close.

I shifted slightly, but he leaned back in his chair, legs sprawled, the faintest hint of cologne drifting over like smoke.

“Morning, Navarro,” he said lazily, as though we’d been doing this forever.

I didn’t answer.

He tilted his head. “Still pretending you don’t want to talk to me?”

“I don’t.”

A low chuckle. Dark. Smooth. “Then why are your hands shaking?”

I looked down—and cursed under my breath. He was right. My fingers on the keyboard trembled ever so slightly. Not from fear. From something worse. From the sheer intensity of his presence, the way his voice coiled around me like silk soaked in venom.

“I’m not here to play your games,” I muttered.

“Good,” he said, eyes glinting. “Because I don’t play. I win.”

---

The professor arrived then, saving me from answering. But Damien didn’t stop.

Throughout the lecture, his presence was a constant distraction. He tapped his pen against my desk, scribbled something on my notebook margin when I wasn’t looking:

You’ll come around.

I erased it furiously.

He smirked.

By the time class ended, I was a bundle of raw nerves. I stuffed my laptop into my bag, eager to escape, but Damien was already standing, blocking the aisle.

“You’re walking with me,” he said. Not a question. A command.

I glared at him. “Move.”

He stepped closer instead. Close enough that I could feel the heat of him, smell that intoxicating cologne again. His lips brushed near my ear, his voice a dangerous whisper.

“Careful, Navarro. The more you fight me, the tighter I’ll hold.”

---

I shoved past him and stormed out, ignoring the curious stares from other students. My heart was hammering, my chest tight.

Why was he doing this? He didn’t even know me. I was nothing here, a nobody. But Damien Leclair had set his eyes on me like a predator choosing prey, and no amount of resistance seemed to faze him.

And the worst part?

Some traitorous, hidden part of me wasn’t sure I wanted him to stop.

---

That night, back at the dorm, I tried to focus on my assignments. But the words blurred. His voice lingered. His storm-gray eyes haunted every thought.

The knock on my door made me jump.

I wasn’t expecting anyone.

I opened it—and nearly swore out loud.

Damien. Standing there like sin wrapped in silk, one hand braced against the doorframe. His shirt was unbuttoned just enough to reveal the sharp line of his collarbone, his tie hanging loose around his neck. He looked like temptation itself had decided to take human form.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded.

He smirked. “Claiming what’s mine.”

Before I could reply, he stepped inside uninvited, shutting the door with a soft click that echoed louder than thunder in my chest.