Damien’s POV
I tossed my jacket on the marble counter and turned to her, my expression unreadable.
“Come,” I said simply, motioning for her to follow me.
She hesitated.
“Dinner,” I added. “But first…”
I didn’t wait for her answer. I turned and walked toward the room we now shared—My room. Her prison.
She followed slowly, every step dragged by resistance. But she followed.
Inside, the room was dimly lit, warm shadows dancing on the cream walls. I shrugged off my jacket, let it fall to the floor, then turned to her with a lazy kind of authority.
“Help me change.”
Her mouth fell open, eyes rounding. “Excuse me?”
I didn’t blink. “Get me out of these wet clothes. I need something more comfortable.”
She stifled a hiccup. A sound halfway between shock and disgust. “I’m not your maid, M
