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The soft chime echoed through Naomi’s office, the end-of-day bell.

She exhaled, a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She didnt even realise how hard she's been looking forward to the end of the day until the bell finally went off.

Naomi began to gather her files and slip them neatly into her bag. Her hands moved automatically, but her mind was somewhere else entirely. She told him they would talk when she's home.

Home. Their home.

Everything that happened earlier this morning was a whirlwind. The way he had handled the situation without telling the whole world she was his wife, the way he stood against Clara like she was threatening the only thing that had him breathing…

A knock tapped lightly on her doorframe. She turned.

Patrick stood there, hands behind his back as he stepped closer and inclined his head.

“Patrick.”

“Ma’am,” he said under his breath, low enough that no passerby would overhear. “Mr. Damon asked that you ride home with him today.”

Naomi’s eyebrows lifted, but she didn’t ask questions. She simply nodded.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Patrick stepped aside as she walked out, offering her a small, knowing smile, one she pretended not to notice.

His private parking lot was as quiet as usual. Damon’s black sedan waited at the center, engine purring, tinted windows hiding everything inside.

Still, she felt him before she saw him.

She opened the back door, slid into her seat, and the moment it clicked shut behind her, she felt his hand reach across the center seat, warm, as he linked his fingers through hers.

Her eyes met his as he placed a kiss on her fingers. “Hey.”

She smiled, his kiss warming up her insides. “Hey.”

“Ready to go home?”

She nodded.

For the first time in days, there was no weight in her chest. Just the steady, reassuring grip of his hand enveloping hers.

The ride home felt shorter than usual, the house coming into view before she was ready. Damon stepped out first, moving around the car with a brand of controlled urgency he always had around her. He opened her door.

She stepped out, her hand lacing through his again, and together they walked into the house. Through the foyer, up the stairs, down the quiet hallway, to their room.

The moment the door clicked shut, the silence shifted. Damon stood in front of her, shoulders tense, eyes watching her as though he wasn't sure what to say first.

Naomi set her bag down slowly.

“Damon,” she began softly.

He winced.

“I know,” he said, voice hoarse. “I know. I owe you an explanation. Actually…” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I owe you a lot more than that.”

Naomi didn’t interrupt.

He looked at her finally, and the pain in his eyes made her heart ache.

“I should have told you,” he said quietly. “About Jack. About Clara. About everything. I thought I was protecting you. But all I did was make you feel alone.”

His chest rose and fell unevenly, like he was trying not to break in front of her.

“I feel stupid,” he admitted. “No…beyond stupid. I feel like I pushed you to the edge and then expected you to stand there quietly. I’m…sorry.”

Naomi watched him for a long moment.

Then she sighed and crossed her arms.

“So,” she said slowly, “you hid things from me, scared me half to death, shut me out…and then…” She paused, lifting an eyebrow. “You couldn’t even kiss me properly last night. That’s the part I’m most offended by.”

Damon blinked. “What?”

“You heard me,” she said, lifting her chin. “You kissed me like a scared intern greeting his boss. I expected…something. Anything. But you..” She wrinkled her nose with exaggerated disappointment. “You barely even tried.”

A short, startled laugh left him, so she was serious about the kiss in the letter she left him that morning.

“Naomi,” he murmured, stepping closer.

She held up a hand.

“Nope. Don’t ‘Naomi’ me. If we’re reconciling, you’re going to have to try harder than that.”

“Oh?” he asked, voice dropping. “You want me to try harder?”

“I mean…” She shrugged dramatically. “Since you failed yesterday, yes. Minimum of sixty percent effort today.”

Damon closed the distance in a single stride. He cupped her face gently, bending down to give her a soft, warm kiss, barely more than a graze.

She pulled back, unimpressed.

“That’s…slightly better,” she said with mock sadness. “But still tragic. My world! My romantic life is really suffering! I can’t even get a sweet kiss from this man!”

Damon smiled and kissed her again, a little deeper.

She sighed loudly.

“Nope. Still sad. Honestly, should I get a refund on this marriage?”

Damon froze, oh, hell nah! Then he grabbed her waist, earning a gasp from her.

He pulled her flush against him with one swift motion that knocked every ounce of teasing straight out of her lungs. His mouth crashed onto hers.

His lips were warm, so warm she felt heat pool in her stomach. His tongue brushed hers in a deliberate stroke that made her toes curl. His hand splayed across her lower back, anchoring her against him, pulling her in like he needed her breath, her heartbeat, her existence to remain sane.

The kiss deepened. Mouths parting, tongues sliding, breaths tangling between them.

She felt his chest rise against hers, felt the low rumble of a sound he couldn’t contain. His fingers tightened on her waist, drawing tiny tremors from her as he kissed her like a man reclaiming something precious, something he feared he had lost.

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding on as he devoured every inch of hesitation left between them.

By the time he finally pulled away, her lips were swollen, her breath uneven, and her mind deliciously scrambled.

Damon stared at her, panting slightly.

“Was that…hard enough?” he murmured.

Naomi blinked. Then blinked again.

“I..I mean… I guess it’s acceptable,” she said weakly.

Damon smirked, the slow, sinful kind she felt in her knees.

But then his expression softened.

“I thought I lost you,” he confessed. “That night…you walked away from me…God, I felt like my chest was splitting open. I deserved it, I know. But the idea of you leaving…” His voice thickened. “I haven’t been able to think since..”

Naomi swallowed. Then she reached up and touched his cheek gently.

“You didn’t lose me,” she whispered. “I’m right here.”

His eyes closed, and his forehead rested against hers.

“Your father’s company,” he said quietly. “I’m going to fight for it. For you. For what he built. I swear it. I won’t let Jack or Clara destroy it. I won’t let them touch you. I won’t let them..”

“I know,” Naomi interrupted softly. “I trust you.”

His breath shook. “Do you?” he whispered.

“Yes,” she said simply. “I see you, Damon. I know your heart. And I’m not letting anyone take what’s ours.”

Damon pulled her into his chest, arms wrapping around her like a man grateful for mercy he thought he didn’t deserve. Naomi melted into him, resting her cheek against the warm, steady beat beneath his shirt.

“God, I missed you..”

Naomi smirked. “Of course you did.”

The tension drained from his shoulders. Her breathing evened. After a long moment, Damon pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head.

“So,” he murmured, “are we okay?”

Naomi tilted her head back, her lips curving. “We are,” she said.

“And…” He smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear. “No more sad complaints about your tragic love life?”

She gave him a playful glare.

“I didn’t say that.”

He laughed softly and pulled her back into him.