The rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, creating a rhythmic backdrop to the storm brewing inside. Isabella stood by the fireplace, her arms wrapped around herself. The heat of the flames warmed her skin, but it did little to dispel the chill that had settled in her chest.
Damien was watching her. She could feel his gaze even without looking, its intensity like a physical weight. His presence was magnetic and inescapable, and she was both comforted and unnerved by it. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, carrying the kind of command that demanded attention.
“You’re restless,” he said, his tone more observation than question.
She turned to face him, her breath catching as her eyes met his. Damien stood a few feet away, dressed casually in a dark sweater
