The car slowed as we turned through the iron gates of the Whitfield estate.
Trees lined the long driveway, their branches reaching over the gravel like arms. Up ahead, the mansion glowed with warm light, every window lit, every hedge trimmed to perfection. It looked like something out of a film. The kind of place that swallowed people whole and spit them out polished or broken.
Damian's hand was still wrapped around mine. He hadn't let go since we left the penthouse.
"Stay close tonight," he said, his voice low over the hum of the engine.
"I can handle myself."
"I know you can. I'm not asking you to hide." He turned his head, grey eyes meeting mine. "I'm asking you to let me stand beside you."
I didn't argue. The gates were already behind us. The car came to a stop in front of the en
