Emma woke to the warmth of a blanket and with a heavy arm around her waist.
A familiar scent reached her nostril.
Her heart lurched.
Damien!
Everything snapped back—her fainting, the file, their argument, his strange gentleness and— I am divorced! And he… he talked about us being together.
Her eyes flew to the clock on her phone.
7:02 AM.
“Oh s**t!” she whispered, sitting up so fast the blanket slid off her shoulders.
Behind her, Damien groaned, voice deep and gravelly with sleep.
He reached blindly for her waist, trying to pull her back down.
“Bella…” he murmured, half-asleep. “Stop running.”
Emma froze.
He was still asleep—and still trying to cage me like some clingy oversized wolf.
“Damien,” she whispered, twisting slightly. “Let go.”
He didn’t.
In fact, his arm tightened
