Maya’s breath hitched.
“And yeah,” Harper added with a wicked little smile, “you’re young, but he’s thirty-five, Maya. That man is not investing that level of emotional intensity, bedroom tension, and black-card energy just to ‘see where it goes.’ You really think he’s still in his ‘playing around’ era?”
She rolled her eyes. “And let’s not forget—your boyfriend isn’t just some guy. He’s Damien freakin’ Blackwood. Women would sell their souls just for a glance. And he’s clean—no scandals, no messy rep. He’s not like his playboy best friend.”
She raised a brow. “Sure, he’s probably slept with a lot of women—he admitted it himself. I mean, let’s be real… He’s thirty-five, filthy rich, and sexy as hell—of course he’s been with women. It’d be tragic if he weren’t.”
She leaned in, grinning.
