*Isabella's POV*
Two Days Later
Fresh out of the shower, skin still damp, I padded toward my bedroom in my damn bathrobe. And of course, because fate loves making me its b***h, I bumped straight into Damien. Shirtless.
Fuck me. The man looked like he was carved out of stone. Broad chest, solid arms, clean skin, not a single tattoo in sight, completely the opposite of Jacob. And worse, his eyes didn't just meet mine; they lingered. Slowly. Like he was taking inventory of me head to toe. That's when I remembered what the hell I was wearing. A f*****g bathrobe.
Kill me now.
"I'm sorry, sir, for the attire," I blurted. And then instantly hated myself. What the f**k, Isabella. Why not just staple 'dumbass' to your forehead while you're at it?
"Don't say sorry, you live here," he said smoo
