The next morning, Damian didn’t slip away like he had before.
There was no cold side of the bed. No lingering scent of him without the man himself. Instead, he stood at the foot of the bed with a jacket in hand, watching her with that unreadable, consuming gaze of his.
“Get dressed. You’re coming with me.”
Elena blinked, still half tangled in the sheets. “Where?”
“Somewhere you’ll understand what it means to stand beside me.”
There was no softness in his tone, yet there wasn’t cruelty either. It was something else, something final. A door being closed, a path being chosen.
She sat up slowly. “Damian, I...”
“There’s no negotiation,” he interrupted gently, though his eyes were sharp. “You chose to stay last night. So today, you see what that means.”
Her heart thudded, but she slipped
