The secure wing felt less like a sanctuary and more like a high-tech prison. It was a labyrinth of steel, glass, and silent guards with earpieces who watched my every move. Damian hadn't spoken to me since the morning. He was buried in meetings, his presence in the penthouse felt only through the heavy, oppressive aura of his anger.
I couldn't sit still. The walls were closing in, and the memory of our night together felt like a beautiful lie I had told myself.
"I need to get out of this room," I whispered to the empty, air-conditioned space.
I knew the guards were stationed at the main exits, but there was a connecting door in the back of the walk-in closet that led directly to Damian’s private study. He had told me never to use it. He had told me that room was off-limits.
But I wasn'
