The rest of that morning after I sent the text felt like waiting for a storm that might or might not hit. Damien arranged everything with his usual efficiency. He had security vet the details, booked a car service for Lila, and made sure the guest suite on the opposite side of the penthouse was prepared. He was polite about it, but I could see the tension in his shoulders every time he looked at his phone.
By early afternoon, the buzzer rang. I stood in the living room, heart pounding in my chest. Damien came up behind me, one hand resting on my lower back.
“You sure about this?” he asked quietly.
“No,” I admitted with a nervous laugh. “But we’re doing it anyway.”
He kissed the top of my head. “I’ve got you.”
The elevator doors opened. Lila stepped out looking polished but not overdon
