Ofelia’s POV
I did not go downstairs for breakfast.
The moment I opened my eyes, memories from the night before returned so clearly that my entire body became tense beneath the blankets. Damien’s mouth on mine. His hand at the back of my neck. The way he had pressed me against the wall as though weeks of restraint had finally broken inside him.
Then came the part that hurt more.
This was a mistake.
We must forget it happened.
I turned onto my side and pulled the blanket higher, as if hiding beneath it could erase the humiliation burning through me.
I had told him the kiss was a mistake because I was afraid. Afraid my mother had seen us. Afraid of what the kiss meant. Afraid of how desperately I had wanted it.
But some foolish part of me had expected Damien to argue.
I had expected
