LOGINDamian’s POV
FOUR WEEKS LATER
I had been in my room since I arrived. Derek knocked on the door several times before leaving for work. Today was an exception— he was still standing outside the door.
“Open up,” he nudged me, his thick accent echoing around the empty mansion.
I walked over and pulled the door open. He stood there in his scrubs battered and tired, exhausted, dark circles forming beneath his eyes.
“How have you been?” He asked softly, touching my shoulders, squeezing gently against the shoulder bone.
I pushed my hair back and ruffled it. It had been weeks—weeks of trying to map out every single thing, uploading my artwork on countless sites for people to notice and buy.
But, there was nobody to buy. Nobody was getting it. I looked down, unable to meet his eyes. I felt I was staying for way too long.
He understood. “I brought us some meals.”
“Let’s go and eat,” he moved away, walking towards the stairs.
I slipped a shirt over my body. And went downstairs, this time taking in the designs of the exclusive mansion.
The railings on the staircase took a beautiful ancient design. I couldn’t get my eyes over every single design, the chandelier stood magnificent in the middle of the big room.
We got to the dining and pulled the chairs so we could silently eat.
Each arrangement reminded me of home. We all sat down to eat together. We waited for everyone to get back before we eat dinner.
I had not received any calls since I got here. Nobody reached out to me, including Nolan.
They were serious about it and I had already made up my mind already.
Derek picked up the bowl of creamy broccoli and stilton and carefully poured them into his plate.
“I just called the restaurant to cook us something very nice,” he said silently.
I put a spoon of creamy broccoli and Stilton into my mouth, relishing the taste of the beautiful soup. It tasted better than home. The rich taste of the soup slid beautifully in my tongue.
I shut my eyes tightly.
“Do you like it?” Derek asked, carefully studying my face.
I nodded slightly.
As we silently devoured each of the foods that was brought.
Derek stood up immediately, checking the time on his wristwatch. “It’s time to go”
I nodded, with foods in my mouth.
“Take care of yourself,” he spoke.
I finished the food and picked every plates and utensils to get them washed.
I rinsed them thoroughly placing them in the dishwasher.
A loud, rich baritone voice came from outside the mansion.
“Derek,” the smooth voice called from outside.
Was Derek’s brother here to see him. My heart raced.
“Derek,” the voice called from outside, this time a little angry.
I left the plates and walked towards the door to meet the person and see who he was.
I opened the door slowly, preparing myself for the humiliation that could come after.
“Der—“ he stopped abruptly, seeing that I was a totally different person than his brother.
He walked towards me slowly. My breathing rapidly increased.
“Who do we have here?” He spoke, his cinnamon rich scent wafting and filling the whole place.
I opened the door properly so he could enter inside.
My lips quiver, afraid too speak.
His presence filled the empty mansion. He had a confidence you could mistake for pride. His hands kept firmly in his pocket, he moved towards me shutting the door behind.
“Derek did not say a word to me about his visitor. Did he?” He asked.
I stuttered. “He… I…m so sorry”
He arched his eyebrow. He looked more muscular than Derek. His broad smile played on his lips. His shirt stretched across his broad chest leaving a few buttons to expose his hair.
I just wanted to trail my hands over his abs.
He was the most handsome man I had ever seen.
He smiled lightly. “Just kidding. I’m Nikolai. Derek’s Dad.”
Derek’s Dad??? He looked younger than Derek.
I stared into his eyes. My words refused to spill out of my lips. I was too careful with my words. Careful I was going to say something to upset him.
I bowed my head slightly. “G…oo day Mr sokenvji”
He nodded his head slightly, stretching his hands forward. “Call me Nickolai instead.”
“Thank you, Mr…Nickolai” I thanked him.
His beauty captivated me in ways I couldn’t explain. His black suit complimented his deep blue eyes like the sea. I just wanted to stare deep into his eyes.
“Nice chest by the way” he said, making my cheeks flush. I stared at him. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
I hadn’t noticed when Derek came into the house.
He cleared his throat.
The timer on the dishwasher dinged caused a whole distraction to the whole tension that was already created.
“Dad,” Derek faced his dad immediately, ignoring the tension between the two of us.
“You didn’t tell me you were coming. I just forgot something and I thought I should come back,” he said, watching between me and his dad.
I turned away quickly and walked into the kitchen, while my ear lingered into their conversation.
“This is my house, remember?” He joked lightly, his gaze never fully left me.
“I forgot something and decided to come back.”
Derek’s eyes moved between us.
“I see you’ve met Damian already.” He paused.
“Not properly,” His dad answered, causing my thighs to tremble.
The way he looked at me—like he could see through me.
And that made me feel
Vulnerable.
Exposed.
Seen.
Afraid he was going to point out my insecurities, afraid and it made me feel seen.
And that terrified me.
“Damian,” Derek called, pulling me back into reality.
“I’ll be leaving now,” he said gently. “And I apologize about my Dad,” he smiled.
I nodded quickly and stepped away, moving towards the kitchen.
His voice followed. “See you soon.”
I froze for a second , before walking away finally.
It wasn’t until I got to my room, closing the door behind me that I realised I had been holding my breath the entire time.
And I wasn’t sure if I was more afraid of him.
Or the fact that part of me wanted him to come back.
The first notification felt like a mistake.I was staring at my screen when the red banner appeared.SOLD OUT.I blinked.Refreshed the page.Then it appeared again and this time I wasn’t dreaming SOLD OUT.Then another.My hands started trembling over the mouse. I wasn’t breathing. I couldn’t breathe. Every canvas I had poured myself into — every sleepless night, every brushstroke that felt like bleeding onto linen — disappearing in real time.Sold.The numbers kept climbing. The site lagged. My inbox flooded.I stood up so abruptly my chair rolled back and hit the wall.“Damian,” I whispered to myself. “You did it.”A laugh tore out of me — sharp, disbelieving, almost hysterical. For months I had painted in silence. In doubt. Wondering if I was delusional for thinking the world would ever care.Now the world was buying me.My chest tightened. Not with fear.With power. It felt so good My phone buzzed relentlessly. Messages. Galleries. Interviews. Unknown numbers. My name was tre
Nickolai’s POVDerek and I walked away with Damian’s face all over my head. Derek explained they were both colleagues at work, before he woke up and made his mind to go for what he loved. He looked different. Like he wasn’t meant to be there. He looked like he was just there for the main time. He looked like he was missing something. He looked scared, too scared to meet my eyes, too scared to even shake me like he was going to dirty my hands and clothes. I was going to go back there and get more information about him. He piqued my interest in ways I did not expect and I suddenly wanted to know about him. But I had a meeting to attend. Marie walked into the room with a smile and a skirt that could be mistaken for a short. “Good morning boss,” she smiled deeply, her cheeks punctuating the little dimple close to her mouth.“Good morning Mar,” I sighed. “How is today going to be like?” She explained every meeting and donations I had to be at, but I wasn’t sure if I was meant to be
Damian’s POVFOUR WEEKS LATER I had been in my room since I arrived. Derek knocked on the door several times before leaving for work. Today was an exception— he was still standing outside the door. “Open up,” he nudged me, his thick accent echoing around the empty mansion. I walked over and pulled the door open. He stood there in his scrubs battered and tired, exhausted, dark circles forming beneath his eyes. “How have you been?” He asked softly, touching my shoulders, squeezing gently against the shoulder bone. I pushed my hair back and ruffled it. It had been weeks—weeks of trying to map out every single thing, uploading my artwork on countless sites for people to notice and buy. But, there was nobody to buy. Nobody was getting it. I looked down, unable to meet his eyes. I felt I was staying for way too long. He understood. “I brought us some meals.”“Let’s go and eat,” he moved away, walking towards the stairs. I slipped a shirt over my body. And went downstairs, this ti
Damian’s POVAs soon as I reached the room, I picked up my phone. I needed a place to sleep tonight. I packed a few things, Nolan slowly helped me, silently folding clothes and handing them to me like he knew words would only make this harder. I picked up my bag and left through the back door without informing them. I grabbed my coat, my hands trembling slightly. I was ready for this. Or at least I kept telling myself I was.I walked out through the gate, leaving behind the only car that I had once loved and cherished—the one my parents gave me when I entered medical school. I walked out of the house for the last time, leaving behind the house I had spent most of the beautiful memories I had after staying at a foster home for some time. I sighed, the sound heavy and broken. I walked through the streets of New York, looking for a cab I could hail hoping to get to the best hotels that were available. As everyone passed through the street. I couldn’t bring myself to think about
Damian’s POVSilence stretched taut across the room, a moth could be heard once it flapped its wings across the room. The food that was prepared by my mother tasted bitter in my mouth. Something that hardly ever happened. My mother was a splitting image of my brother. Olive skin. Blue eyes and hair that could pass as a bright red colour. Every cutlery clutching against the porcelain plates created goosebumps that travelled across my skin. My father focused on his newspaper, using his left hand to guard his paper and the other hand to eat his food. I sighed silently. “How was England?” They went there for a conference that my dad held for all the doctors across the country. I couldn’t go there because of work at the hospital. My mum looked up from her food, smiled at him. That was a beautiful way of telling me she enjoyed the trip. My dad’s eyes still focused on the paper, he nodded his head. Mum finally spoke up. “It was a beautiful conference.” She paused, as she dropped the







