Damon’s POVThe moment I see her standing in the doorway, my chest tightens, a familiar tension winding like a coiled spring through my shoulders, a heaviness I thought I’d left behind long ago. Mona. She is here. She has the nerve to show up in my office, in my building, in my small, carefully controlled life, and already I can feel the ripple of disruption rolling outward, touching everything I hold steady. The sunlight filtering through the blinds falls across her like a spotlight, catching the sharp angles of her face, the precise curve of her lips, the calculated gleam in her eyes, and I want nothing more than to leave, to walk away, to shut the door and pretend she isn’t here.“Damon,” she says, her voice smooth, soft, but layered with an intimacy I never invited, a familiarity I do not want. There is a thrill in it for her, I can see that, the way she tilts her head, the way her smile curves almost like a question, a challenge. The air around her smells faintly of perfume, expen
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