When Damian returned, the house was quiet.
The maids bowed quickly as he walked past, their eyes darting to the small paper bag in his hand.
None of them had ever seen their boss carry anything other than documents or weapons, and now he was holding a bag with pink packaging peeking from the top.
He didn't say a word—just climbed the stairs with that calm, intimidating stride of his.
Elena was lying on her bed when the door creaked open. Her eyes widened when she saw him.
He didn't speak—just walked over to her table. "I didn't know which brand you used," he said bluntly, setting the bags down on the bed. "So I bought all of them."
Elena blinked at the small pile — various brands, heating pads even chocolates. "You… bought all this?" she asked, her voice soft with disbelief.
"T-thank you," she murmured, sitting up. "But you didn't have to…" Her cheeks turned the faintest pink.
Damian sat down on the edge of her bed, one eyebrow lifting.
