The diamond ring glimmered beautifully under the chandelier lights, a flawless oval stone encased in a halo of smaller gems. The kind of ring every woman dreamed of—every woman except Elena, who couldn’t stop staring at it like it was a trap.
It felt heavy on her finger. Too heavy.
Damian watched her with that soft, careful smile of his, the one crafted with precision, like an artist painting on a mask.
“You’ve been quiet,” he said, voice warm, coaxing. “Does it not fit?”
“It fits,” she murmured, though her voice trembled. “Maybe a little too perfectly.”
Damian stepped closer, fingers brushing her hand. The touch was gentle—but the pressure beneath it was unmistakable, a reminder that he was always in control, even in tenderness.
“Elena,” he whispered, thumb stroking her knuckles. “Y
