The soft rays of dawn filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a golden glow across the bedroom. Amara stirred slowly, her lashes fluttering as the warmth of the morning sun kissed her skin. For a moment, she forgot the chaos of the previous night-the near danger, the haunting threat lingering over them. All she felt was the solid warmth of Damian beside her, his arm draped protectively across her waist as if even in sleep he refused to let her go.
She turned slightly, her eyes landing on his face. In repose, Damian looked almost boyish, the hard lines of his features softened by sleep. His hair was tousled, lips parted slightly, and the powerful CEO who intimidated boardrooms looked utterly human, vulnerable even. Amara's chest tightened, a mixture of affection and fear swirling inside her. How had she ended up here, tangled in the sheets with a man whose very presence could ignite both butterflies and storms within her?
She tried to slip away quietly, careful not to wake him, but Damian's hold tightened instantly. His voice was husky, thick with sleep.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Amara froze, caught. "I was just... going to freshen up," she whispered.
He opened one eye, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. "Not without saying good morning to me."
Her cheeks warmed as he pulled her back down into the bed, wrapping her fully against him. His hand slid up her arm, fingertips grazing her skin in slow circles. The intensity in his gaze, even this early, made her heartbeat quicken.
"Good morning, Damian," she finally breathed, her lips curling into a reluctant smile.
"That's better," he murmured, pressing a lingering kiss against her forehead. For a moment, the world outside didn't exist-no enemies plotting, no dangers waiting. Just the two of them, suspended in the fragile beauty of morning.
But reality crept back in. Amara couldn't shake the memory of his words the night before: We must find out who planned to kill us. She shifted slightly, her expression clouding.
Damian noticed instantly. His thumb brushed her chin, tilting her face toward him. "You're thinking about it again, aren't you?"
"How can I not?" she whispered. "Someone wanted me gone... and you could have been hurt too. I can't pretend everything is fine."
His jaw tightened, the softness fading into steel. "That's why I won't stop until I know who's behind it. No one touches you, Amara. Not while I'm breathing."
The fierceness in his tone sent a shiver through her. He meant it. Every word. But it was that very intensity that frightened her sometimes-because his obsession with her safety bordered on dangerous devotion.
Amara laid her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "Just promise me you won't do something reckless."
His hand threaded through her hair. "The only reckless thing I've ever done is fall for you."
Her breath caught at his words, her fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt. Damian rarely voiced his feelings so directly, but when he did, it left her speechless. She wanted to believe him, wanted to drown in the safety of his arms, but the shadow of Clara and Serena's failed plot loomed. Somewhere out there, two women were seething at their failure, and Amara knew they wouldn't stop easily.
A soft knock at the door interrupted the moment. Damian's expression darkened instantly, protective instinct flaring. "Who is it?" he called sharply.
"It's Eric, sir," came the muffled reply. "Your morning schedule is ready."
Amara tried to sit up, but Damian pulled her back with a smirk. "Tell him I'll be down in thirty minutes," he said loud enough for Eric to hear.
"Yes, sir," Eric replied before footsteps retreated.
Damian's hand trailed lazily along her arm. "See? We still have time."
Amara rolled her eyes, though her lips betrayed her with a smile. "You're impossible."
"And you love it," he countered smoothly, stealing a quick kiss before finally letting her sit up.
She moved to the edge of the bed, reaching for her robe, but Damian's eyes lingered on her every movement. It was unsettling how much he watched her-as if she were the center of his universe and he couldn't risk looking away. When she turned, their gazes locked, and she saw the silent vow in his eyes: he wasn't just protecting her. He was claiming her.
By the time they made their way downstairs for breakfast, the staff straightened nervously under Damian's sharp gaze. Amara noticed how quickly they lowered their eyes, and she wondered if they too sensed the storm brewing in him.
Over breakfast, Damian's phone buzzed. He glanced at it, his expression hardening. "There's been chatter," he muttered, not looking up. "Clara and Serena might be moving again."
Amara's fork clattered against the plate. "So soon?"
"They failed last night. Failure only makes people like them more desperate." His eyes lifted to hers, unwavering. "Which is why you're not leaving my side. Not at work, not anywhere."
Her lips parted. "Damian, that's not-"
"It's not up for debate, Amara." His voice was calm but carried the weight of finality. "You're safer where I can see you."
She bit back a protest, torn between frustration and the comfort his words strangely offered. It was suffocating and reassuring all at once.
The morning stretched on, filled with unspoken tension between them. As Damian prepared to leave for the office, he paused at the door, his hand brushing hers. "Stay close to me today. Promise me."
Amara nodded reluctantly, her heart pounding as he leaned down, whispering against her ear, "I won't let anyone take you away from me."
And with that, the day began-not with peace, but with the fragile hope that their love could withstand the darkness closing in.