Novel-novel oleh Maria Writes

Damien’s POV By the time Sophia and I made it back to the house Friday evening, my arms ached from carrying far too many shopping bags, and my stomach was protesting after all the food and wine she’d forced me to try. She was radiant, satisfied, and smug—like a little sister who knew she’d succeeded in running me ragged. Killian was already waiting near the front door, leaning against the wall with that watchful patience of his, dressed in his usual muted tones that somehow made him look both invisible and striking. His eyes softened when he saw me, though he masked it quickly when Sophia tugged me toward the main sitting room. “Perfect timing,” she said. “They’re about to start.” I blinked. “Start what?” “The tradition,” she replied with mock horror. “Did you forget?” I hadn’t forgotten exactly, but in the blur of the day I hadn’t realized how quickly evening had come. The family tradition: The Circle of Blessings. Every wedding-eve, we all gathered in the sitting room, cir

Damien’s POV Friday morning came with a softness I hadn’t felt in years. There was laughter echoing from the kitchen before I even left my room, the clinking of dishes, and the faint smell of coffee and warm bread wafting upstairs. Killian was already awake, of course — he always was. I found him standing near the window, arms folded across his chest, his sharp eyes taking in the view of the vineyard below as if threats might crawl up through the vines. The way he carried himself here, in the middle of domestic peace, looked almost out of place — but somehow, he didn’t seem uncomfortable. Just watchful. “You sleep at all?” I asked, tugging on a casual shirt instead of a suit. That felt strange too. “Enough,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. His voice was low, rough, but there was no edge to it. “Your family wakes early.” A smile tugged at my mouth. “We always have.” Downstairs, the kitchen was alive with motion. Mum was already bustling about with a pan in her hand, chiding M

Damien’s POV Thursday came faster than I expected. The Ash House still smelled of long nights and burnt coffee from endless briefings, but my thoughts weren’t on politics. Not on Roul, or Anita’s impatient schedules, or Richard’s constant reminders about security. No. My head was somewhere else entirely: my brother’s wedding. “Your bag’s already in the car,” Killian’s low voice cut into my thoughts as he appeared in the doorway, shoulders filling the frame like he always did. He was dressed casually—dark jeans, a fitted black shirt, jacket thrown carelessly over one arm. His hair was slightly messy, like he’d run his hand through it one too many times. That little detail did something to me. I nodded, feigning calm. “Thank you.” He arched a brow, smirking faintly. “Nervous?” I gave him a look. “It’s just family.” “That’s usually when people are most nervous,” he said, walking past me, close enough that I caught his scent—something sharp and clean with a hint of spice. “Especial

Killian’s POV The moment stretched into something dangerous. I had promised myself I wouldn’t let this happen again. Not after the last time Damien’s mouth was on me, not after the way my body betrayed every defense I’d built. Yet here I was, back in his bed, back under his control, back giving him every fucking inch of me. His hands were all over me, rough, demanding, and I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t fucking stop. “Killian,” he growled, my name rolling off his tongue like both a curse and a prayer. The sound of it wrecked me. I felt his fingers dig into my hips, holding me down as though he knew I’d bolt the second I had the strength. But he wasn’t letting me run, not tonight. His mouth was on my neck, biting, sucking, marking me where no one else should ever see. My skin burned, my pulse thundered, and my cock throbbed with need I hated myself for. “You want this,” Damien whispered against my throat. “Don’t pretend you don’t.” I gritted my teeth, trying to fight him even as m

Killian’s POV Damien leaned back against the headboard, his shirt unbuttoned halfway, his tie discarded on the nightstand. The lamp beside his bed cast a golden glow over his chest, shadows moving across the hard lines of his muscles. “Come here,” he said again, his voice low, deliberate, dangerous in how persuasive it sounded. His hand patted the empty space beside him—an invitation wrapped in command. My jaw tightened. I stood at the edge of the room, arms folded, still stung by what I overheard earlier in his office. The way his brother’s voice softened, the way Damien had said *“Find her.”* As if there was a future where he would search for someone else, not me. Not this. I wanted to refuse again. I wanted to tell him I had better things to do than lie in his bed like a replacement, a mistake. But then he smirked. That same smug, infuriating curve of his lips that made my blood run hot. “You really going to stand there all night?” he asked. “Acting like you don’t want

Damien's POV I leaned back in my chair the moment the door closed behind my father. The weight of his presence lingered in the air long after he had gone, like the echo of a command I couldn’t shake. Killian hadn’t moved from his spot, still stationed in the shadows of the office like a constant reminder that I was never truly alone. His eyes didn’t meet mine, but I felt them. Watching. Calculating. Always too steady, always too silent. “Sir,” Richard said quietly, stepping forward, “should I add the family gathering to your official calendar, or would you prefer me to… leave it unmarked?” “Put it on there,” I muttered, my voice lower than usual. “Saturday. Daniel’s wedding.” Richard adjusted his glasses, nodding without comment, though I caught the faintest flicker of curiosity on his face. He, of course, knew who Daniel was. My younger brother—the golden son who could do no wrong. The silence stretched for a moment before Richard spoke again. “Would you like me to draft an off