Damien’s POV
I woke up on the floor with a crick in my neck that felt like someone had taken a baseball bat to my spine.
My eyes cracked open slowly, adjusting to the early morning light filtering through the study windows. Everything hurt: my back, my shoulders, my pride. Why the hell was I on the floor?
Then I felt it. Warmth. Softness. The distinct scent of vanilla and something floral that had haunted my dreams for years.
I turned my head slightly and froze.
Aria was pressed against me, her back to my chest, my arm somehow draped over her waist, our legs tangled together like we'd done this a thousand times before. We were practically spooning. On the floor of my dead father's study. Like some kind of tragic rom-com where the characters were too stupid to realise they'd fallen
