Warm light spilled out, revealing deep blues, a soft fire, a wall of books, and a photo of Dominic and Charles with a much younger Damien.
Her breath hitched.
She ran her fingers along a jar of coins, a folded scarf, cuff links—small, human things that made the space feel alive.
“I thought your room would be… colder,” she murmured.
Damien laughed softly. “Disappointed?”
She shook her head.
“No. I like it.”
His expression softened—rare, unguarded.
“I’m glad.”
He stepped closer. Not touching. But close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him.
“This is your room now, so feel free to make changes however you see fit,” he whispered.
Maya looked up at him, startled by the intimacy in his tone.
“I won’t do that… this—this is your childhood, your life.”
Damien’s eyes da
