Chapter 2

Damian's POV

POV

I jolted upright from the bed, my heart thudding hard against my ribs, even though I’d been just moments from slipping into a deep sleep. The sudden vibration of my phone on the nightstand had shattered the quiet, and the message from my secretary made every nerve in my body snap to attention.

"Madam just boarded her flight. She’ll be home in less than four hours."

My wife was on her way back from London—earlier than expected.

Shit.

I swung my legs off the bed and headed straight to the adjoining bathroom. Ava stirred, her body still tangled in the sheets, her silhouette barely visible in the golden hue of the bedside lamp. The scent of her skin still lingered on mine, a mixture of vanilla and the aftermath of our heat. It clung to me like a guilty whisper.

I turned on the tap, let the water run cold, and stepped into the shower. I didn't have time to bask in it or reflect on the sin I was washing off. I scrubbed fast, the urgency pounding in my chest. My life was split between two worlds, and I couldn’t afford for them to collide.

Ten minutes later, I stepped out of the steam-filled bathroom, a towel slung low on my waist. Ava was awake now, her eyes half-lidded but sharp as ever. She watched me quietly, her head resting on her palm. There was something unreadable in her gaze, like she already knew I was about to vanish again.

I ignored the heaviness of her stare and walked over to the chair where I’d neatly hung my navy-blue suit earlier. My movements were quick and mechanical—boxers, trousers, shirt, tie. I was already fixing my wristwatch when she rose slowly from the bed, her silk robe slipping off her shoulder.

She walked toward me without a word, barefoot and graceful, like temptation itself. Then she wrapped her arms around my waist from behind, pressing her warm body into mine.

"Don’t go yet," she whispered, her lips brushing the base of my neck.

I hesitated. Just for a breath.

Then I turned to face her. “You know I have to.”

Ava reached up and kissed me,slow, deep, lingering,like she was trying to etch her presence into my memory, mark her territory on my lips. I let myself respond, cupping her face, giving in for just a heartbeat longer.

Then I pulled away.

“I’ll call you,” I muttered.

“You always say that,” she replied, her voice soft but sharp.

I couldn’t meet her eyes. Instead, I picked up my cufflinks and slid them into place. Every second felt heavier than the last.

Outside, the night air was thick and damp. I got into my black Mercedes and slammed the door shut. For a moment, I sat there, gripping the steering wheel, my mind a mess. My reflection in the rearview mirror looked older than I remembered,tired, distracted, caught in the blur between duty and desire.

My phone buzzed again just as I started the engine.

Ava: When can I see you again?

I sighed.

I knew the rules. I was the one who set them. This wasn’t supposed to get complicated.

I typed back:

"Soon. But no messages tonight. I won’t be available until morning."

I didn’t want her contacting me while Lydia was around. My wife was too intuitive for comfort. And although I’d mastered the art of keeping up appearances, one wrong move would undo everything I had built.

I dropped the phone onto the passenger seat and pulled out of the driveway.

As I drove through the quiet streets, flashes of Ava crossed my mind—her eyes, the curve of her smile, the way she moaned my name just hours ago. But as the city lights blurred past, another image slowly pushed its way in: Lydia.

My wife. The woman I’d built a life with.

She was everything I ever wanted,beautiful, poised, the daughter of a retired medical legend, and the perfect partner for my public image. We had married fast—just five months of courtship—and while it had seemed ideal at the time, I often wondered if she had sensed the distance that had crept between us like a shadow in the dark.

She hadn’t been around much lately, and maybe that had made it easier for me to slip away and fall into Ava’s world. But Lydia was coming back, and with her return came reality.

As I approached my estate, my stomach tightened. The tall gates opened automatically, and the headlights washed over the manicured hedges and well-lit driveway. Everything looked perfect. Too perfect.

The house was dark, silent,still waiting.

I stepped out of the car and took a deep breath before walking in. The air smelled of lemon polish and floral air freshener. My housekeeper had clearly made sure everything was in order. I headed upstairs and entered the master bedroom, flicking on the lights.

I peeled off my jacket and slumped onto the bed, not bothering to undress fully. My head fell back against the pillow, but sleep refused to come.

Ava’s message still hovered in my mind. Her touch still haunted my skin.

But Lydia’s return loomed larger.

Just then, the air shifted. A familiar scent filled the room,Chanel No. 5 Lydia’s signature perfume.

I froze.

The door to the walk-in closet creaked open, and there she was,Lydia, my wife, standing tall in a soft beige trench coat, her freshly styled curls falling gently over her shoulders. Her lips were glossed, her eyes lined with the precision only she could manage after a long flight.

My blood turned cold.

“Where were you, honey?” she asked, her voice calm but laced with something sharper. “I told your secretary to inform you I’d be back soon... but she called me later and said your phone was unreachable.”

I swallowed hard.

She tilted her head slightly, the way she always did when she was waiting for the truth,but already doubted it.

“I... I didn’t think you’d be back this early,” I managed, sitting upright.

“I was back four hours ago,” she said flatly.

Four. Hours.

My eyes darted to the bedside drawer,where I had dropped my phone after texting Ava.

Dammit.

“You weren’t here when I arrived,” Lydia continued, stepping farther into the room. “Your car wasn’t in the driveway. The staff said you stepped out in the afternoon and hadn’t returned until just now.”

I stood up and walked over to the mirror, trying to compose myself as I slowly removed my wristwatch. My heart was beating too fast. I was never this careless.

“I had a few things to attend to at the office,” I lied, keeping my voice even. “Just some last-minute meetings. You know how hectic the quarter-end gets.”

She let out a soft, skeptical hum.

There was silence between us. The kind that wasn’t comfortable. She was watching me. Studying me. And I could tell… something wasn’t sitting right with her.

Lydia walked to her vanity table and started removing her earrings one by one, deliberately slow. “I left your favorite meal in the warmer,” she said. “I thought you’d be tired when you got back. But you don’t look tired at all.”

I turned away from the mirror, forcing a small smile. “I’ll eat in a bit.”

“Okay,” she said quietly, her eyes lingering on me for a moment too long.

I moved toward the bathroom to escape her stare and splash cold water on my face. But just as I got to the door, Lydia spoke again.

“Oh, by the way…”

I paused.

“I noticed something strange.”

I turned back to look at her.

She walked toward the bed and picked up my dress shirt from where I’d dropped it hastily on the couch. Her fingers ran over the fabric.

“You changed clothes before coming upstairs,” she said slowly, holding the shirt up to her face. “But this shirt smells like vanilla. Not cologne. Definitely not yours.”

My stomach dropped.

She looked up at me, her eyes unreadable, but her voice calm,too calm.

“Is there something I should know, Damian?”

And where exactly were you?