Riley
Damien insists on taking me home in his car, his hand resting on my thigh the entire ride. It's a small gesture, but it feels grounding, like he's making sure I don't drift away from him again.
When we pull up to his penthouse, I notice the subtle changes since the last time I was here—a vase of fresh flowers on the entry table, the faint scent of dinner wafting from the kitchen. It's cozy, welcoming in a way that feels… intentional.
"You cooked?" I ask, quirking an eyebrow.
He smirks, shrugging as he holds the door open for me. "Not exactly. But I had dinner prepared. Thought we could use a quiet night."
I step inside, and the sight before me takes my breath away. A beautifully set dinner with candles flickering softly in the center. "You planned all this in the space of two hours?" I ask, my voice filled with surprise.
"I wanted tonight to be perfect," he says simply, pulling out a chair for me.
