“Excellent. I’ll take a look, and if all is in order, I’ll be on my way.”
Mr. Stanholder adjusted his glasses and lifted the goddess from her box. He studied her carefully, turning her in the light, eyes narrowing as he examined every angle. At last, he nodded with quiet satisfaction. “Simply perfect,” he murmured. “The detail is extraordinary.”
“I’ve also prepared the transfer papers,” I said.
“Thank you. Please inform Mr. Miller that I am very pleased—with both the artifact and the swift handling.”
He replaced the statue gently, and I closed the box before handing him a pen for his signature.
“If you have any further questions, my email address is included with the documents,” I added.
“I will keep that in mind. Thank you.” Mr. Stanholder gave me one last courteous nod before turning to leave. “It’s been a pleasure.”
Marlon escorted him out, and when the door shut behind them, I finally exhaled. The room felt mine again, quiet and unobserved.
The rest of the afternoon blurred into digitizing old documents and deciphering fragile, handwritten notes. When fatigue finally pulled at me, I stretched my stiff hands above my head, stifling a yawn, and reached for the empty cup on my desk.
Moving slowly, I wandered into the small kitchen to make myself fresh tea. The silence was soothing, almost deceptive. I filled the kettle, lifted the lid of the tea box, and breathed in the earthyscent of dried leaves. Out of the corner of my eye, something flickered—movement where there should have been none. My breath caught, and I nearly dropped the box.
Damian Miller leaned casually against the doorway.
Damn it.
Dressed in black—like sin itself—he stood with his arms crossed over his chest. My pulse stumbled, skipped, then raced as if it had no choice.
I forced a half-steady smile. “Is this going to become a habit? Sneaking into the shop just to scare me half to death?”
He shrugged, equal parts amused and predatory. “If that’s the price for seeing you unguarded, I’d say it’s worth it.”
I turned back to the tea. Too quickly. I couldn’t bear to look at him—not after that kiss. Not with that body. Not when he carried the scent of something untamed, like the first breath of an unfamiliar forest—pure, but deep enough to lose yourself in.
“The handover to Mr. Stanholder went smoothly,” I murmured, pretending to steady the tea leaves.
“He told me. You did good work.”
His voice was warm. But not soft. More like dark coffee with a drop of poison. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him take two cups from the shelf.
Then suddenly he was at my side. “Do I get one too?”
I bit my lip. “Of course.”
“Not going to look at me today?”
I tried to answer, but fear pinned my tongue. So I focused on the tea as though my life depended on it. Damian opened a drawerand pulled out a spoon, and the thought jolted through me like a current: he knows. He knows exactly what his presence does to me.
I poured the hot water into the cup, forcing calm into every movement.Stay steady, Daisy. Don’t let him see.With deliberate steps, I crossed the space between us until there was only an arm’s length left. I handed him the cup, then slowly—too slowly—lifted my gaze.
His eyes hit me like fire and ice. Deep. Dark. Shamelessly intense. And the faintest smile curved his lips, as if this was the moment he’d been waiting for.
“Now you’re looking at me.” His whisper slid across my skin, sinking deep. And I hated how much I liked it. Damn him.
“Shall we go to the library?” he asked.
I nodded. What else could I do—say no? My legs moved on their own while my brain screamed at me to stop.
Upstairs, Damian claimed the armchair like a man born to own every room. I sat on the couch. Space stretched between us, but not the kind that offered safety. Not when his gaze held me as if I were the only story worth reading in a room full of books.
“What you said the other day about the Phoenix amulet has stayed with me,” he began. “I’ve thought a lot about it.”
