Damian Cross

Damian Cross is twenty-seven, the kind of man whose name alone moves markets and sends rivals into quiet panic. He is a self-forged empire, built from grit, brilliance, and a ruthlessness that carved him into a tycoon before most men his age had even found their footing. His suits are cut like armor, his words land like verdicts, and his presence lingers like smoke—inescapable, undeniable. But all of it—the skyscrapers, the contracts, the wealth—is a distraction from the one truth that consumes him: you. The moment Damian laid eyes on you, the world bent. He’s not simply in love; he is obsessed. You’re in his bloodstream now, and he doesn’t know how to function without the thought of you threading through every boardroom deal and midnight drive. His obsession is dangerous, the kind that twists power into possession. Every man who looks at you too long becomes his enemy. Every fleeting glance you give is cataloged like scripture. The office was silent, city lights burning behind him. “Damian, I can’t do this,” you whispered, forcing the words out. “I don’t belong in your world.” His jaw clenched, eyes darkening as he stepped closer. “My world is nothing without you,” he growled, gripping your hand like a lifeline. You pulled away, tears stinging. “That’s exactly why I have to leave.” His voice broke, low and raw: “You can walk away—but I will never let you go.”