Chapter 32 In Your Clothes
JASMINE
Not just beige—but the exact shade I loved. The exact shade I had painted my own room back home.
The one that calmed me, grounded me, made the chaos in my head quiet just a little.
It didn’t feel accidental.
The walls blended seamlessly with gold accents, velvet curtains, and carefully chosen furniture. Everything looked deliberate.
Thought out.
Designed.
Beautiful.
Too beautiful.
I knew better than to let appearances deceive me.
I needed to know where I was.
I pushed myself to my feet—and immediately regretted it. A wave of dizziness slammed into me without warning, my vision spinning as my knees nearly buckled beneath me.
I collapsed back onto the bed with a sharp inhale, clutching my head as pain throbbed violently behind my eyes.
Okay.
Slow.
After a moment, I tried again—this time carefully. I stood, steadying myself before moving across the room toward the door on the far left. Whoever was on the other side was about to explain everything.
I flung the door open—
And froze.
Ray.
Relief hit me so hard my knees nearly gave out. I didn’t think twice before throwing my arms around his neck, clinging to him like a lifeline.
“Calm down, princess,” he murmured softly.
I pulled back, only then noticing the tray of food in his hands.
Pancakes. Bacon. Eggs. Waffles. Mashed potatoes. A cup of milk.
“Almond milk,” he added.
He stepped into the room and set the tray down beside the bed.
At least Ray was here. That meant—if nothing else—I wasn’t alone.
“Where am I?” I asked quietly.
Something flickered across his face. Panic. Just for a second.
“Don’t worry about that,” he waved me off. “You’ll know in time. Come eat.”
My stomach growled loudly, betraying me.
Heat crept into my cheeks as Ray smiled knowingly.
I took a step toward the tray, hunger tugging insistently at me—but stopped.
Curiosity won.
“Where am I?” I asked again.
Ray stiffened.
I watched him closely as he dished food onto a plate. His left eye twitched.
I knew that tell.
“What’s going on, Ray?” I asked softly.
“N-nothing.”
The twitch again.
I stepped closer, taking his hands in mine, my voice gentler this time. “Please.”
He sighed, defeated.
“You’re in Damien’s house.”
The words hit me like a slap.
I stared at him, waiting—hoping—for him to laugh.
To say it was a joke.
He didn’t.
“Why am I in Damien’s house?” I whisper-screamed.
“It’s a long story.”
“I have time.” My arms folded tightly against my chest. “Where is Damien?”
He hesitated.
“Who changed me?” I asked suddenly, dread pooling in my stomach as I realized
“I—D—”
That was enough.
I stormed out.
The hallways were endless—white marble walls, black accents, golden lights casting warm reflections on the floor beneath my bare feet. Everything looked the same. Every door identical. Ray chased after me, telling me to slow down..I paid him no mind as I continued marching to wherever. I was definitely getting lost but I was far too distracted and upset to care.
"He is in his study!" Ray shouted after me once he got tired of my entering room after room.
I asked where it was and he directed me.
I stopped abruptly as a familiar scent washed over me.
Him.
My heart pounded as I spun toward a set of massive brown double doors.
I wrapped my fingers around the gold handles and pulled them open.The scent of old books and polished wood enveloped me instantly.
I stepped inside—and froze.
Damien.
He sat behind his desk, dressed simply in a white shirt that clung shamelessly to his broad frame. The fabric stretched over powerful arms, his chest visible at the collar. His hair was disheveled, dark strands falling carelessly over his forehead.
The clicking of his pen stopped.
His eyes lifted.
Locked onto mine.
The room shifted.
The air grew thick, heavy with something unspoken.
“I see you’re awake, tesoro.
I hope you didn’t have any issues.”
His voice was calm. Too calm.
It made my skin prickle.
“Why am I here?” I cut straight to the point, refusing to let the softness of his tone disarm me. “And why am I in your clothes?”
I looked away before he could catch whatever was happening in my eyes. I wasn’t ready for that—not for the way his gaze always seemed to linger, not for the unreadable glint that danced in those green irises.
Under the dim lighting of his study, Damien looked… unreal.
The shadows carved his features into something sharp and dangerous, something devastatingly handsome. He looked like temptation given form, seated there behind his desk like he ruled not just the room—but everything in it.
Including me.
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry, my tongue heavy like cotton.
“Tesoro,” he said gently, leaning back in his chair, “we can talk about this later. For now, go eat something and get some rest.”
He waved off my questions as though they were inconsequential, as though my confusion didn’t matter.
It irritated me.
“And,” he added, eyes drifting over me with unmistakable intent, “I think you look rather nice in my clothes. Wouldn’t you agree?”
I snapped my head up despite myself.
A smirk played at his lips.
Heat rushed to my face instantly, my mouth going dry all over again as I followed his gaze—how it traced the way the oversized black shirt slipped off one shoulder, how the white shorts sat low on my hips.
Stay focused, Jasmine.
Stay focused.
“I prefer being in my own clothes,” I deadpanned, forcing steel into my voice. “Thank you. Now—why am I here?”
I straightened my spine, summoning every ounce of composure I had left. If he noticed, he didn’t comment.
“My clothes look better,” he drawled, rising slowly from his seat.
The sound of his chair scraping softly against the floor echoed far too loudly in the room.
I stayed where I was, even as my knees threatened to betray me.
He took long, unhurried strides toward me, his presence filling the space with an intensity that made my breath hitch. His emerald gaze never left mine, and I hated that it made me feel seen in a way I wasn’t ready for.
“If clothes are the problem,” he murmured, stopping far too close, looking down at me like I was something he had already claimed, “that can be arranged.”
Before I could respond, he leaned in.