FAZER LOGINDamon’s POV:For a second, I felt like I was overreacting. Like I was doing more than the contract required. More than I'd promised myself. More than she could've thought I'd do.I looked into her eyes again. Those gentle eyes—so easy to crush with my anger, my frustration. But I needed to control everything. Maybe I was being too mean. Maybe everything I was thinking about was the contract. The terms. The win.I wanted to ask what the real problem was. Why she'd passed out. What my father had said to her in that office. But too much had already passed between us lately. I was sure she'd barely trust me anymore.But it was clearly a misunderstanding, and I didn't want to question it. Not because I didn't care—because I didn't want to disturb her peace anymore. Maybe me being around was like a threat to her.I stood there. The silence between us was heavy. Suffocating.Say something, I told myself. Apologize. Explain. Anything.But the words didn't come. They never did when I needed th
Gina’s POV:The drive home was rushed. I hadn't fully woken up, but I could feel the speed of the car—the way it hugged curves too fast, the way the engine growled underneath me.I looked up slowly at the driver's seat. He drove with an impatience that felt wrong. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel. His jaw was clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping beneath his skin.I tried to sit up. Rested on my left arm. My body felt weak—hollow, like someone had scooped out everything inside and left only the shell. And that unarguably was the chairman.And then—The car halted. Suddenly. He'd slammed the brake.I lurched forward and hit my head on the front seat."Hnnn." It hurt—especially since I was just recovering from the faint. The pain bloomed behind my eyes, hot and sharp.He heard."You're awake." His voice was low as he looked back at me.His well-dressed hair had fallen apart, covering his left eye. The other burned with gold—brighter than I'd ever seen. His tie wa
Gina’s POV:The door clicked shut behind Damon.I stood there. Alone. With him.The chairman didn't move from his spot behind the desk. Didn't offer me a seat. Didn't speak. He just looked at me—his eyes old and cold and patient. Like he had all the time in the world. Like I was a clock he was waiting to stop ticking.I didn't sit. Didn't speak. Didn't breathe too loud.The silence stretched. Thick. Heavy. The kind of silence that fills a room before something breaks."You look like him, you know," he said finally.I didn't ask who."Evan." He said the name like it cost him nothing. "He had your eyes. That fire. That stubbornness." He tilted his head. "That was his problem. He couldn't let things go."My hands clenched at my sides."You were there, weren't you?" His voice was soft. Almost gentle. Like he was asking about the weather. "That night. When he died."My heart stopped."I don't—""You don't have to lie." He raised a hand. Cut me off without touching me. "I'm not asking as yo
Damon’s POV: The moment he called her back, I already knew she'd have a very hard and tough day.I'd been trying to remain between them—Gina and my father. Buffer. Shield. Wall. If they kept crossing paths, things might get out of hand. Things Gina shouldn't know. Facts my father shouldn't see. At all.Miss Kate led me to the office and stopped at the door. She gestured for me to enter alone. I nodded. Stepped inside.The room was vast. Not in the way of wealth—in the way of loneliness. High ceilings that didn't need to be that high. Walls painted a shade of gray that cost more than most people's rent but somehow still felt cold. The floor was dark hardwood, polished to a mirror shine, reflecting nothing warm.I walked closer to the table.It was massive. Dark mahogany. The surface was bare except for a crystal glass paperweight, a leather-bound notepad, and a single pen—black, heavy, expensive. Nothing personal. No photographs. No clutter. No sign that anyone actually lived in this
Gina’s POV:The Kings Tower was as tall as ever. The kind of building that has those humble walls, shining glass sheets all over and wide grounds that covered about a half acre. Even though many lot of atrocities were always going on in the inside.The long limo stopped in front of the building and I leaned forward. “Whoa,” I breathed, taking in the sight of the invisible battle behind the walls of the skyscraper before me.Damon came out of the car from the other side. Dressed in a white shirt, a black jacket and a long overcoat. His hair was slicked back with an effortless wave and his jaw was shape into a strong square. The gold in his eyes burned brighter and he looked more of a gentleman than a man who would sign a stranger into a marriage.He walked closer to the door beside my seat. My heart hammered in my chest, the time had come for me to live as a bride that I wasn’t—and never would be. All that just for revenge and protection. But I didn’t care, I was ready to get it my w
Damon’s POV:I didn't sleep.Not because of the chair. The chair was fine. Hard, but familiar. I'd slept in worse places—floors, cars, alleyways when I was young and had nowhere else to go. No, the chair wasn't the problem.She was.The way she'd looked at me in the garden when my father spoke. Like she was seeing me for the first time. Not the man who saved her. Not the man with the contract. Just... me. And she hadn't liked what she saw.That look followed me into the dark.I sat by the window long after her breathing evened out. The moon moved across the sky. Slow. Indifferent. The garden below shifted from silver to black to gray as the hours bled away.At some point, I stopped watching the garden and started watching her.She slept on her side, facing the empty space between us. One hand stretched across the mattress. Toward me. Or toward the place where I should have been. I couldn't tell which. Her lips were parted. Her forehead was smooth. In sleep, she looked younger. Unburde







