I woke up with a small headache and the faint taste of champagne on my tongue.
The penthouse was quiet. Too quiet. I lay in bed for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, trying to piece together how the night had ended. The toast. The city lights. Damian's fingers brushing my hair back.
I didn't remember going to bed. I didn't remember him leaving.
But when I rolled over, there was a glass of water on the nightstand and two painkillers beside it. No note. Just the quiet evidence that someone had been watching out for me.
I took the pills and sat up slowly. The room was soft with morning light, and I felt something unfamiliar: calm.
I got dressed and walked to the kitchen. Marco was already there, moving around with his usual energy.
"Ah, Miss Grace! You are awake. I made breakfast.
