Wren
He was staring. Again.
I didn’t even need to look to know it. Damon Vale had a presence cold, sharp, and unsettlingly magnetic. When he entered a room, the air shifted and the temperatures dropped. When he looked at me, it burned.
And he was looking at me now. I could feel it.
I held Liam’s hands, spinning in a slow, clumsy circle on the patio, pretending like I wasn’t acutely aware of the brooding billionaire watching me like I was a puzzle he couldn’t solve.
I should’ve stopped twirling. I should’ve pulled Liam back into the sunroom and wiped the glitter off the floor before his father decided I was an unprofessional menace to interior design.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I leaned into it.
I laughed louder. Twirled again. Made dinosaur sounds. Because Liam was beaming, and in that
