“Hey, get dressed, we’re stepping out.” Damian let a possessive order at Naomi who had buried herself in her studies preparing for her final fashion school exams.
She lifted her face lazily, unfazed, like she had had enough of these authoritative orders, and it didn't surprise her anymore.
Her gaze catches his eyes and his shape fills up the door frame with his hand, firmly wrapped around the doorknob, swinging the door ajar, signalling her that he’s waiting for her to wrap up and follow him immediately.
“I’m busy with my studies, Mr. Damian.” she broke the silence tilting her head away from his burning eyes. One could tell that his eyes could burn down the books on her table.
“You little needle. Can you for once trade my words into the fabrics of your brains and do as I say without
