Chapter one
Emma
"Who are you?"
The question hung in the air, sharp with antiseptic and fear. Behind her, monitors beeped a rhythm too slow to be mine. I didn't open my mouth. Couldn't. The words stuck somewhere between my mind and my tongue. How was I supposed to explain what Damien was to me? His colleague? His lover? His submissive?
"Mom." Damien spoke from beside me, his voice thick with tears he hadn't let fall. "This is my girlfriend, Emma Sinclair."
Girlfriend?A title so common... yet far too simple for what I was.
Her mouth fell open. She lunged—arms wrapping around me, squeezing tight enough to force the sterile air from my lungs. I stood frozen, hands hovering uselessly at my sides before I remembered to hug back.
"Oh my god." She stepped back, scanning my face like she was trying to memorize it. Her eyes flicked to Damien. "She's beautiful."
He smiled, but it crumpled at the edges, crushed beneath the weight of the room. Sebastian's chest rose only with the machines keeping him here.
The fluorescent lights bleached everything—her face, Damien's knuckles, the gray-blue of Sebastian's lips.
"Yes," Damien said softly. "And smart. And funny. And kind. And—"
I swatted his arm. "Stop."
Rosie glanced between us, a flicker of brightness surfacing beneath the grief.
I rocked on my heels. "I'm sorry we had to meet like this."
She reached for my hands. She squeezed once, firm and deliberate. "Oh, hun. This isn't your fault." Another squeeze, then she released me. "I'msohappy to meet you. And I'm—" Her voice wavered, steadied. "I'm grateful Damien felt safe enough to bring you."
Damien's chest swelled. "She means a lot to me."
His gaze caught mine.
I glanced away.
"Is there anything I can get you?" I blurted. "Anything I can do? Have you eaten? I can run and—"
Damien kissed the top of my head. "Thank you, Emma. But I can take care of that."
He hesitated, uncertainty crossing his face. "If you want, you can head home."
I stared at him, the suggestion impossible to process. Who the fuck did he think I was?
He was barely holding himself together—the set of his jaw, the twitch in his cheek, the shine in his eyes.
"Absolutely not," I said.
A familiar charge settled over him—the same tension that surfaced when he was about to draw a line, pull the strings of the power I'd handed him.
But he didn't get the chance.
Rosie tipped her head back and laughed—too loud for the ICU. Nurses glanced over; one stepped closer, relaxing when she realized it wasn't panic.
Folding her arms, she appraised me. "I like you, Emma."
My mouth curved.
"And here we go," Damien muttered, rolling his eyes.
