The villa was quiet when they returned — the kind of quiet that felt like a pause button. Like the outside world couldn't touch them here.
Celeste kicked her shoes off by the door and padded across the cool floor, Damien trailing behind. The ocean wind slipped through the open windows, carrying the faint scent of salt and jasmine.
"You want something?" he asked, heading toward the kitchen. "Water, tea, wine, moral support?"
"Moral support sounds exhausting," she said, flopping onto the couch. "Wine'll do."
He grabbed two glasses and a bottle they hadn't touched since they arrived. She watched him, chin on her palm. Damien wasn't trying to impress her — that's what made him dangerous. He was just… real. Grounded. Unbothered by her moods, her silences, her sharp tongue.
He handed her a glass and sat beside her, leaving just enough space to be polite. She didn't like polite.
She slid closer, draping her legs across his lap. "You're comfortable now."
"You've known that," he said, sipping. "You just like pretending you're in control."
She raised a brow. "I am in control."
"Uh-huh."
She took a slow drink. "Keep talking like that and I'll pour this on your head."
"Then you'd owe me another bottle," he said smoothly. "And that's the last of the good stuff."
She smirked. "You really think you're clever."
"I know I am."
There was silence for a moment — the kind that didn't need to be filled. Then her voice dropped slightly.
"You ever think about who you were before all this?"
Damien looked at her, thoughtful. "Sometimes. But I don't think I liked him much."
"Why?"
He shrugged. "He was quieter. Let things slide. Let people get too close without asking what they wanted."
"And now?"
"Now I ask."
She looked down at her glass. "What if you're asking the wrong person?"
"I'm not."
Her throat tightened. She hated how easy it was to believe him — and how badly she wanted to.
"You don't know what I am," she said quietly. "Who I really am."
Damien leaned in slightly. "Then tell me."
Her eyes met his. Not guarded. Just tired.
"I would… if I knew."
And for once, he didn't offer an answer. He didn't try to fix it. He just rested his hand on her knee and let the moment settle.
It wasn't a confession. It wasn't closure.
But it was enough for now.