Katrina’s POV
The silence in his penthouse was heavy, suffocating.
There was no music, no chatter, only the hum of the city far below us. Damon sat in his chair across the room, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, his eyes fixed on me like a predator watching prey.
I’d been pacing for nearly an hour, pretending not to notice the weight of his gaze. Every time I stole a glance, his expression hadn’t changed—still, controlled, unreadable. It was enough to make my skin prickle.
I knew what I was doing. Testing him.
He had rules—where I could walk, what I could touch, how I was supposed to speak to him. And tonight, I broke one deliberately. I’d unlocked the balcony doors, stepped outside into the cold night air, and leaned against the railing like it belonged to me.
When I turned, his
