Damien waited in the shadows until he saw the faint light flicker on in her window upstairs. Only then did he exhale, lowering the privacy shield in his car. He leaned back, signaling to his driver.
“Take me back to Zellwood’s,” he said quietly.
The car slid away from the curb and into the dimly lit streets. But his mind wasn’t on the road—it was on her. On what had just happened. On what it meant.
When they arrived at Zellwood’s, the old stone mansion loomed against the night sky, elegant yet uninviting. Nadia was sitting by the fountain in front of the house, her legs crossed, idly swirling a glass of red wine. She looked up when she saw him and smiled faintly, curiosity flickering in her sharp green eyes.
“I thought you might come back,” she said, standing to greet him. “But not alo
