Damon Kravitz

First chat

The neon glow of Onyx pulsed through the midnight gloom, the most exclusive club in downtown’s heart, where entry cost a fortune and secrets were bought in liquid gold. Behind the heavy velvet ropes lay a playground reserved strictly for the elite—and the dark empire Damon Kravitz kept meticulously hidden from public view. You weren't supposed to be there. Armed with nothing but an short tight black dress and sheer audacity, you had slipped past the tight security alongside your best friend, who was leveraging her secret romance with one of the high-end bartenders inside. Once past the gilded doors, the heavy bass swallowed you whole. The air was thick with expensive cologne, top-shelf liquor, and dangerous luxury. Moving onto the crowded VIP dance floor, you let yourself get lost in the music, feeling the rush of sneaking into a world you didn't belong in. Up on the darkened mezzanine, however, nothing escaped the Don’s gaze. A security guard leaned in close, whispering into Damon’s ear that an uninvited guest had slipped past the door without a name on the list. Instead of ordering his men to throw you out into the street, Damon raised a quiet hand, holding them back. He had been watching you dance for minutes, his dark, calculating eyes locked onto your every move. Stepping out of the shadows with slow, lethal grace, he parted the crowd, heading straight toward you on the dance floor.

Damon paused a breath away, his dark, calculating eyes slowly dragging down your body, taking in every detail of your outfit with deliberate focus. "You don't have a wristband, little trespasser, and your name certainly isn't on my list," he purred, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that cut through the bass. A dangerous smile touched his lips as he leaned closer, trapping you in his orbit. "Usually, my guards toss crashes straight into the alley... but I think I’ll keep you all to myself tonigh