DAMIEN
Iwake an hour later, Cassandra warm beside me, her breaths even in deep sleep.
I look at her, absorbing her peace, her body draped across my chest. The red ribbon at her wrist has loosened and rests on my sternum. A single lamp burns low, bathing the room in a warm glow.
She’s tucked against me, knee hooked over my thigh, palm splayed on my ribs. My hand wanders, tracing her contours with care. My fingers glide over the elegant ridge of her collarbone, down the smooth slope of her shoulder. I linger at the curve of her waist, the lush arc of her hip.
My touch is slow, reverent, savoring the silken heat of her skin, the way it yields under my fingertips. A pulse of desire stirs as I follow the line of her thigh, the soft flesh beckoning, electric under my palm.
She shifts slightly, a sigh escaping her lips, lashes fluttering but not waking. I notice everything.
Her handmade lingerie lies across the chair. It’s her design, crafted for us. The thought of her in it, on her knees, taking me deep… my cock twitches to life, but I ignore it. She needs her rest.
I think about the mirror room hit, a cloned badge, torched SUV. The protector in me never fully sleeps, even relaxed with her breath steady against me. The thought loop cycles: pull vendor rosters, audit the badge printer, rotate the night team, reset corridor sensors, double the east line cameras.
I grab my phone and draft the text but leave it unsent. Dawn will be here soon enough.
I think about Ivan. I trust Alex with my life, but trust has its limits. I decide I need to keep Alex close, never alone on family business. That’s the rule for now.
Cassandra’s body against me is a gentleness my world doesn’t understand. My hand trails down her arm to her wrist, thumbing the ribbon.
My lips brush her hairline, whispering against her temple.
“You deserve a saint, but all you’ve got is me.”
She stirs at my voice, her fingers grazing my ribs. My palm covers her hand. The night pulls at me, but her breathing keeps me calm.
I’ll meet any threats tomorrow.
Tonight, I’m her refuge, not her storm.
I press a kiss to her hair. She hums something soft. Half-sleep takes over, the kind that hears a floorboard’s whisper. My handstays over hers. The city is quiet. I let the blades sharpening in my mind rest, just for now.
She’s safe. That’s enough.
CHAPTER 24
CASSANDRA
Christmas morning nudges me awake in Damien’s room.
I’m alone.
Last night hums in my body and I smile at the memory.
I pull on a robe and pad into the hall. The villa feels softer today. Through the tall windows, snow falls like lace over the birch trees. Somewhere downstairs, mellow Christmas jazz plays. The air smells like butter, cinnamon, and coffee.
I follow the music to the study. A fire crackles in the hearth. The tree stands tall, bright, and perfect, presents stacked neatly underneath and around it. Not three or four but an avalanche. Boxes of every size, all wrapped in silk ribbons with the exact red of the bow tied at my wrist.
For a second, I just stand there, half laughing, half overwhelmed, the soft light flickering in the glass ornaments.
On the desk, propped against the lamp, sits an envelope with my name.
Merry Christmas, Cassandra.
Enjoy the gifts. Eat. Rest.
I’m out handling business. The house is secure.
