The next morning, the penthouse was unusually quiet. Isabella woke to the pale morning light streaming through the curtains. Damien wasn’t beside her. She pushed back the heavy duvet and slipped on her robe, her heart sinking with the weight of everything that had transpired the night before.
She found him by the windows, his tall frame silhouetted against the city skyline. He was already dressed, his sharp suit impeccable as always, but there was something off about him. He seemed tense, his posture rigid, and his hands clenched at his sides.
“You didn’t sleep,” she said, her voice soft as she approached him.
He didn’t turn, his dark eyes fixed on the horizon. “There’s no time for sleep,” he replied. “Not with Antonov making his move.”
Her chest tightened at his words. “Damien,” she s
