Eight months.
The contract’s end loomed like a shadow—four months away, then two, now mere weeks.
Ava felt it in every touch, every glance.
Damian had changed.
The rules remained—strict, enforced—but the edges had softened.
He no longer locked doors.
He’d returned her phone—unrestricted.
He’d arranged lunch with her father, supervised but present.
He’d even asked her opinion on a business decision—actually listened.
And the nights…
The nights were different.
Punishment still came when earned, but it always ended in tenderness now. Aftercare that lingered for hours. Whispers in the dark that weren’t commands.
“I need you.”
“You are more than the contract.”
“I don’t know how to let you go.”
She’d stopped fighting the feelings months ago.
Love.
Terrifying, consuming love for
