The invitation arrived that evening on crisp, cream-colored stationery embossed with Damian's coat of arms. Beneath her name in elegant script were the words:
"Private dinner at dusk — come as yourself, not Miss Huxley."
She stared at the envelope in her hands, heart racing at the intimacy implied. Just the two of us. That simple instruction made her pulse spike and her stomach filled with butterflies. It was a declaration of trust.
Damian met her in the drawing room, dressed casually in dark jeans and a crisp white shirt.
He looked at her, unadorned makeup, hair undone, and his gaze softened.
"You accepted," he said softly.
Ava's voice trembled. "I wasn't going to miss this."
He came forward, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "You look… beautiful."
A warmth bloomed inside her. She hadn't heard that word directed at her in years—not about her, Ava, not the broken wife, but this new woman emerging.
He hesitated, then kissed her forehead — a tender, possessive stroke. "Wait for me in the garden."
A secret courtyard only for them.
Lantern light pooled across stone walkways, illuminating ivy-draped walls and a small table set with crisp napkins and silver cutlery. Two wine glasses caught the candlelight.
Damian joined her moments later, carrying a single white rose. He handed it to her without a word.
Ava inhaled its scent and pinned it in her hair, heart pounding.
Damian smiled, then poured rich merlot into their glasses.
"To beginnings," he toasted.
Ava sipped, savoring the warmth and a thrilling sense of exclusivity. This night was theirs, away from public scrutiny, from Mario's threats, from the chaos.
Conversation drifted from mundane to unspoken truths.
Damian spoke first. "If I'm honest… this moment is one I've planned for a long time."
Ava's brow rose. She wanted him to elaborate, but found herself just grateful that this private space existed.
He continued, "You deserve beauty and ease. You deserve love without manipulation. You deserve someone who knows what you've been through and still wants you."
Tears slipped silently down her cheeks. She cleared her throat. "I… I never thought I'd deserve that."
Damian stood and moved behind her chair. Gently, he placed his hands on her shoulders, massaging warmth through the tension she'd carried for years.
She leaned into his touch. "Thank you for everything."
He kissed her temple. "And thank you for allowing me to love you."
They fell silent, enveloped in gentle intimacy, as night darkened overhead.
Words gave way to touch.
Damian lifted her hand, brushing his lips across her knuckles—a quiet, intimate gesture.
Ava's breath shivered. She reached up, running a finger down his jaw—callused and strong.
He knelt before her, placing a slowed, tender kiss on her palm, then his eyes locked onto hers with a fierce intensity.
"Ava," he breathed, voice low. "There's something I need to show you."
He led her inside to a terrace above the courtyard.
There, a grand four-poster daybed, draped in sheer white curtains, overlooked the garden.
Damian guided her onto the bed, settling beside her. He pulled her close until their bodies touched.
Their lips met—softly at first, testing the edges of an emotion too long restrained. She felt his hand cradle the back of her head, drawing her deeper into the kiss as world and worries dissolved.
He deepened the connection, lips pressing against her jaw, her neck, leaving tender marks that pulsed with life.
Ava pressed into him, arms winding around his waist, surrendering to the pain and beauty of it. The world whirled away until only breath, heartbeat, and the promise of healing remained.
Later, after their intimate moment.
Ava lay curled against Damian's chest, listening as his fingers traced invisible constellations across her skin.
"What now?" she whispered.
He pressed a kiss into her hair. "Now we sleep. We rest. Tomorrow we face the world again—together."
Ava closed her eyes, her breath steadying. Together. It felt like magic.
But the world didn't stay asleep.A distant sound startled her—a car door closing, tires crunching across gravel.
Damian tensed, slipping off the bed. He took her hand and guided her quietly toward the terrace edge.
They peered through curtains at shadows moving by the courtyard gate.
Damian's jaw hardened. "He's testing us again."
Ava's pulse fastened. "Is it Mario?"
He didn't answer, but she recognized the silhouette through the gate—tall, expensive coat, posture taut with rage.
Abruptly, the figure knocked on the gate—not repeatedly, but with slow, deliberate taps.
Damian's voice dropped to his most controlled whisper as he stepped away: "Don't respond yet."
They watched as Mario's figure paused, looked around once, and disappeared into the darkness.
Ava swallowed. "He's always there."
Damian returned to her side, arms wrapping protectively. "He can't stop us from this. From us, not now and obviously not later"
Her heart pounded. "Promise me we'll stay together?"
Damian brushed a kiss over her temple. "Always."
He pulled her into his arms, cloak of white sheets around them, moonlight drifting in.
Ava clung to him.
He said that, but the sound of the gate echoed again—a soft, metallic whisper…
A second knock.
Something crossed outside…
A figure paused. Ava saw the faintest flash of metal.
Damian's hold tightened. "Stay behind me."
Lightning cracked through the sky. The room plunged into flickering darkness.
And as thunder roared—
They waited for the storm at their door.