All Chapters of Married to My Stalker: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The morning sunlight slipped through the sheer curtains, catching the edges of the silk sheets tangled around Nova's legs. Her body still ached in the best way. She felt it in the stretch of her hips, the soreness in her thighs, the sting of beard burn along her inner arms and between her breasts. But the ache wasn't just physical. It was something deeper. Lingering. Damian had let her touch him. Please him. He had come apart in Nova's hands, and it wasn't just the sex that left her stunned. It was the way he'd looked at her after, like she'd given him peace. Like he hadn't known what it was until her. She wasn't sure she'd known either. Nova wandered barefoot down the hall, robe loose, curls a halo around her face. She found him in the conservatory, seated on a deep leather chair in his shirtsleeves, coffee in hand, shadows under his eyes. Damian looked up when she entered. Then he said, "Come with me." No explanation was given, just the command, and Nova followed. They w

The hallway was silent as Nova padded barefoot toward the library. Damian had gone somewhere after dinner, murmuring about a phone call, but she hadn't seen him since. The air felt heavier now, charged with something unnamed. She should have gone to bed. Nova went to the library instead. Books always calmed her, even when nothing else did. But tonight, as she stepped into the dim glow of amber sconces and candlelight, she paused. Damian was there. Damian stood at the window, suit jacket gone, sleeves rolled up, collar loosened. The city lights bathed him in a golden glow and shadow. He looked like he'd been carved from stillness, beautiful, precise, dangerous."I thought you'd gone out," Nova said softly."I did. Then I came back.""To check the cameras?" asked Nova.Damian turned, eyes catching hers. "No. To see if you missed me."Nova blinked. It wasn't what he said. It was how he said it, quietly. Like he didn't expect an answer. Nova crossed the room, arms folded. "You don't s

The morning after was strangely quiet. No wildflowers. No whispered promises. Just the sound of water running in the shower and the ghost of Damian's mouth still pressed into the back of her shoulder. Nova sat on the edge of the bed, half-dressed, tracing a line down her thigh where his fingertips had lingered last night. Her body still hummed from the way he'd touched her, like worship, like punishment, like he couldn't decide which one he meant. Damian hadn't said much afterward. He rarely did. But she remembered the way he held her afterward, arms locked tight like she might disappear between one breath and the next. Now, he was gone again. Nova wandered barefoot into the hallway, drawn by the scent of espresso and cinnamon. The kitchen gleamed like a magazine spread, too perfect. Too silent. Except for the man sitting at the counter, who most certainly wasn't Damian. He looked older. American. Steel-gray hair, a deep tan, and a face that had seen too much. His suit was expensi

Nova couldn't sleep. The sheets twisted around her legs, the night air too heavy to breathe. Moonlight spilled across the floor, pale and cold, but all she could see was that man's face at the book fair. His words drilled through her like a rusted nail. She sat up, heart pounding. This wasn't paranoia. This wasn't about Damian. This was before him. Nova pulled on a robe and padded across the room. In the back of her closet, behind a row of forgotten coats, was an old wooden trunk she hadn't opened in years—her father's things. She'd almost forgotten she'd brought the trunk. In the whirlwind of moving into Damian's house, rushed, strange, and overwhelming, her cousin had packed some boxes from her old apartment and sent them over. Most were still sealed in the upstairs storage room. But this one… she'd dragged it into the closet on her first night. Not because she needed it but because it felt like a tether. A piece of her father. A piece of home. It creaked when she opened it

Nova was curled beneath the linen sheets, sunlight streaming across her bare shoulders, when her phone buzzed against the nightstand. She reached for it without thinking, thumb swiping across the screen. Sadie-Rae. "Hey," Nova said, voice husky from sleep."Sugar, I didn't mean to wake you; well, I did, but only because this felt weird enough to matter."Nova sat up slowly. Damian's side of the bed was already cold. She could hear the faint clink of dishes downstairs, his voice low as he spoke Romanian on the phone. Something about the tone made her stomach twist."What happened?" Sadie-Rae exhaled into the receiver. "You remember how I said we were low on poetry stock? I was restocking this morning when a man came in, a real clean-cut individual. The suit fits too well to be local. He looked at me like I was the dust under his shoes."Nova went still. "What did he want?""He didn't say your name," Sadie-Rae continued. "Didn't ask for 'Nova.' he described you. 'Curvy woman. Sou