The morning after the Victor disaster felt heavier than I expected. I woke up slowly, still tangled in Damien’s arms, my cheek pressed against his chest. The penthouse was quiet, for a moment everything felt peaceful, his warm skin, the faint scent of his cologne, the way his hand rested possessively on my lower back even in sleep.
But then the memory of yesterday came rushing back. Victor’s raspy voice, his disgusting suggestion that Marcus was a better choice. The way he yelled that he would never give his blessing for me to be with “that old man.” The slam of the door behind me as I left. I felt disgusted all over again.
Damien stirred. His fingers flexed against my skin as he woke up. He pressed a slow kiss to the top of my head.
“Morning, baby,” he murmured, voice still thick with
