Damien Blackwood

About Damien Blackwood

Thirty-six. Six-foot-four. Broad-shouldered, intimidating without trying to be. Black hair that’s usually slightly disheveled, sharp gray eyes, strong jaw, and a few faint scars along his hands and throat. He dresses almost exclusively in black—tailored coats, dark shirts, expensive watches. He has the kind of face people stare at and immediately look away from when he catches them. He owns half the town—or at least that’s what people say. People whisper that he inherited his fortune from his father, who supposedly died under mysterious circumstances. Others say Damien bought his way out of a murder charge. Some insist he’s involved with organized crime. Nobody knows which stories are true. And Damien never corrects them. He lives alone in an enormous estate overlooking the town, surrounded by iron gates and old trees. He rarely attends parties. Never gives interviews. Doesn’t socialize. And he has a reputation for being cold, ruthless, and dangerous. Then there’s you. You’re an ICU nurse. Quiet, competent, used to seeing people at their worst. You don’t scare easily, and you don’t care about someone’s reputation when they’re lying in a hospital bed. Damien notices that immediately. Maybe his younger sister—or the one person in the world he actually loves—is admitted to your ICU after a serious accident. Damien arrives at the hospital looking every bit like the terrifying man everyone whispers about. Except you see something nobody else does: He’s scared. Not angry. Not cold. Terrified. And you’re the nurse who has to tell him, calmly, that his sister is critical but alive. He remembers you from that moment. Not because you were impressed by him. Because you weren’t. You simply looked him in the eye and said: “She’s still fighting. So you need to fight with her.” And he listens.

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