+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+
~Author's pov~
The bathroom was heavy with steam, the air warm and fragrant with cedarwood and citrus. Water cascaded down Damian's sculpted figure over his broad shoulders, his muscles tensing and relaxing under the steady stream.
Water droplets running in rivulets down his chiseled chest and along the defined lines of his abs.
Each droplet followed the contours of his body, tracing lines of strength carved from years of rigorous discipline.
His black sliver hair clung to his forehead, darkening and glistening from slick of the water, while his eyes remained closed as though lost in deep thought.
The mirror, fogged from the heat, reflected only the faintest outline of his tall frame. Damian reached for the soap, his hands methodical as he rubbed it across his arms and chest, the scent mingling with the humid air.
He wiped a hand across the fogged mirror, revealing his striking features, sharp jawline, piercing brown eyes that carried an unsettling intensity, and a slight furrow of his brows as though deep in thought.
Damian took a deep breath, droplets trickling down his cheek as he closed his eyes momentarily. His mind was a storm, flashes of last night's chaos playing on repeat.
The image of Vale trembling, clutching his hand, replayed in his thoughts.
Damian turned off the shower with a sharp twist of the handle.
The abrupt silence felt deafening in contrast to the steady rhythm of the water. He grabbed a towel, wrapping it loosely around his waist, and ran another towel through his damp hair. His reflection stared back at him in the mirror, the slight furrow of his brows hinting at the storm beneath his composed exterior.
He stepped into his room, the morning sunlight filtering through the half-drawn curtains and casting golden streaks across the polished floorboards. Damian strode to his wardrobe, pulling out his freshly pressed clothes .
He dressed with precision, each movement deliberate. The dark slacks accentuated his tall, athletic frame as he buttoned his shirt.
The crisp white shirt molded to his broad shoulders, the black blazer sharp against his toned frame. His crimson tie at his writs, knotted perfectly, added a touch of elegance to his otherwise stark appearance.
By the time he was fully dressed, the sunlight had grown brighter, signaling the start of another day.
Damian adjusted his cuffs one last time before heading downstairs.
The mansion was quiet, save for the distant ticking of the ornate grandfather clock in the hallway.
His polished shoes echoed softly against the marble floor as he descended the grand staircase, his presence commanding even in the stillness.
In the dining room, the table was set for breakfast. Plates of golden croissants, freshly scrambled eggs, and steaming coffee awaited him.
The air was warm with the aroma of food, but Damian paid little attention. He took his seat at the head of the long mahogany table, unfolding his napkin with a casual elegance that seemed to be second nature.
The head maid stood by the doorway, her posture stiff and her hands clasped nervously in front of her. Damian's sharp gaze flicked up, his piercing eyes locking onto her.
"Where is Vale?" he asked, his tone low but firm, each word carrying weight.
The maid flinched slightly at his voice, her expression faltering. She hesitated, wringing her hands nervously.
The maid hesitated, her fingers twitching slightly. "Sir… she's still in her room."
Damian's brows knitted together, his expression hardening. "Still in her room? Why hasn't she been woken up?"
The maid faltered, her voice trembling. "I… I don't know, sir. Shall I—"
"Go and wake her," Damian cut in, his voice cold and commanding. "Now."
The maid nodded quickly and scurried out of the room, her footsteps echoing as she hurried down the hallway. Damian leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly against the polished surface of the table. Something felt off, an unease that gnawed at the edges of his mind.
Minutes ticked by, the silence growing heavier with each passing moment. Faint voices began to drift down the hall, muffled and hurried. The sound grew louder, more frantic, as if several maids had gathered outside Vale's room. Damian's brow furrowed, his patience wearing thin.
One of the maids reappeared in the dining room, her face pale and her hands shaking. "Sir… she won't wake up."
Damian rose from his chair, the scrape of wood against the floor sharp in the quiet room. His presence seemed to fill the space, a storm barely contained as he strode past the maid without a word. His footsteps were swift and purposeful, each step echoing with authority.
The maids parted nervously as he approached Vale's room, their wide eyes betraying their fear and confusion. Damian stepped inside, his sharp gaze immediately falling on Vale's still form sprawled across the bed. Her face was pale, her breathing shallow but steady.
The tension in the room was palpable as Damian stood there, his jaw tightening. Without a word, he turned and left the room briefly, returning moments later with a bucket of water. He stood by her bedside, his expression unreadable, the bucket held firmly in his grasp.
The room was silent, the maids watching with bated breath as Damian tilted the bucket.
A scream shattered the stillness, piercing and raw. Vale shot upright, her hair and clothes drenched, her eyes wide with confusion and panic. Her gaze darted around the room, finally landing on Damian, who stood with the now-empty bucket in hand.
"Good. You're awake," he said coolly, his voice devoid of sympathy. "Get dressed. You've wasted enough time already."
Vale sputtered, her hands trembling as she pushed her wet hair out of her face. Her lips moved, but no words came out, her shock rendering her momentarily speechless.
Damian turned on his heel, his movements precise and deliberate, and walked out of the room without another word. The maids hurried to Vale's side, their faces a mix of relief and lingering fear.
As Damian descended the staircase once more, his expression remained calm, but his thoughts churned with questions.
Why did I do that?
He pushed the questions aside for now. There were more pressing matters to attend to, but the unease lingered, a shadow that refused to dissipate.
The morning continued, but the air in the mansion remained heavy, thick with the weight of unanswered questions and unspoken fears.
~End of Author's pov~
+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+