Chapter 87 Hibiscus
Damien came out of the bathroom with steam trailing behind him like a second skin.
Only a pair of grey sweatpants hung loosely around his waist, clinging low on his hips as if they had forgotten their duty. Droplets of water slid down his chest and disappeared beneath the waistband, tracing lines over muscle and skin I had memorized in the dark of night but had never grown used to seeing in daylight.
I was lying on his bed, propped up on one elbow, my bouquet of pink hibiscus spread beside me like a field of soft petals. I had been admiring them—running my fingers over the fragile blooms, inhaling their sweet scent, pretending my heart was not beating so hard it hurt.
But the moment I saw him, everything else vanished.
My throat went dry.
My breath caught.
My heart began to race as if it had just realized what danger looked like.
He was unfairly beautiful like this—relaxed, damp from the shower, his hair still slightly tousled, the sharp lines of his jaw softened by exhaustion and warmth. He looked like home and temptation all at once.
I forgot how to blink.
Damien noticed immediately.
His mouth curved into that slow, knowing smile that always made my stomach twist.
“You’re staring, tesoro,” he said lightly.
I swallowed. “You’re… distracting.”
He chuckled, the sound low and rich. “Good.”
He walked across the room, every step deliberate, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me. He stopped at the dresser and picked up the gift bag he had brought earlier.
Then he turned back to me and sat on the edge of the bed.
The mattress dipped beneath his weight.
He tapped the space beside him with two fingers.
“Come here, tesoro.”
I hesitated for half a second—just long enough to remind myself I still had bones—then carefully placed the bouquet down on the bed and crawled toward him.
The sheets were warm. The air smelled like soap and flowers and something unmistakably him.
I settled beside him, my knees tucked under me, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it.
He reached into the bag and pulled out a small box.
Red velvet.
My breath left me in a rush.
It was small enough to fit in the palm of his hand, but heavy with meaning. My fingers froze midair.
My heart began to race so hard it hurt.
I stared at it like it might explode.
“Damien…” I whispered.
He watched me closely, his eyes softer than I had ever seen them.
“Open it.”
My hands shook as I took the box from him.
Was it what I thought it was?
My thoughts scattered. My chest felt too tight. My pulse thudded in my ears.
I looked up at him again. “Are you trying to kill me?”
A quiet laugh escaped him. “Never. Only to make you smile.”
Slowly, with trembling fingers and a heart pounding like a drum, I lifted the lid.
Inside was not a ring.
It was a necklace.
A delicate gold chain lay nestled in the velvet, and at its center hung a small charm—an intricate hibiscus flower, carved with tiny details that caught the light when I tilted the box.
My breath left me in a soft gasp.
“Oh…”
Damien watched my reaction carefully, like he was afraid of what I might see.
“I saw it in a little shop near the hotel,” he said. “It reminded me of you. Soft… and strong. Beautiful without trying.”
My eyes burned.
“It’s… it’s perfect,” I whispered.
He reached out and brushed his thumb under my eye before I even realized a tear had fallen.
“I wanted to give you something you could keep with you. Something that says… I came back.”
My chest tightened painfully.
I lifted the necklace from the box, holding it up so the charm caught the light.
“You didn’t have to do all this.”
“I wanted to.”
He stood and moved behind me, gently taking the necklace from my fingers.
“Turn around.”
I obeyed without thinking.
His fingers brushed the back of my neck, cool and careful, sending shivers down my spine. I held my breath as he fastened the clasp. His knuckles grazed my skin and lingered there for a second longer than necessary.
When he was done, his hands slid to my shoulders.
“Look.”
He guided me toward the mirror on the dresser.
I barely recognized the girl staring back.
My curls framed my face. My eyes were bright. And against my skin rested the gold hibiscus, delicate and glowing.
I touched it with trembling fingers.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered. “I’ll never take it off.”
He stood behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder.
“I don’t want you to.”
We stayed like that for a moment—his body warm against mine, my reflection framed by his arms. The world felt very small and very safe.
Then he kissed the side of my neck.
Once.
Twice.
Slowly.
I shivered.
“Damien,” I murmured, my voice betraying me.
“Yes, tesoro?”
“You came back early…”
“I did.”
“Why?”
His arms tightened around me.
“Because every night I slept alone felt wrong.”
My heart skipped.
He turned me to face him, his hands still at my waist.
“I thought about you every day,” he said quietly. “About the way you laugh. About the way you look at me like I’m not… what I am.”
I reached up and cupped his face.
“You’re what you are to me.”
His eyes darkened slightly at that.
“I missed you,” I whispered.
“I know.”
He leaned in and kissed me—slow, tender, not rushed. His lips were warm and familiar, and my body melted into his like it had been waiting all day for this moment.
When we pulled apart, he rested his forehead against mine.
“You’re safe,” he murmured. “I’m here.”
Something inside me softened completely.
I guided him back to the bed, where we sat side by side again. My bouquet lay between us, petals brushing his thigh.
He picked one flower up and tucked it behind my ear.
“Now you match,” he said.
I laughed softly. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you love it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Maybe.”
We shared the pastries he had brought, feeding each other bites, laughing when crumbs fell on the sheets. The tension between us remained, but it was warm now—playful, alive.
I leaned back against the pillows, my fingers brushing the necklace again and again as if to make sure it was real.
Damien lay beside me, propped on one elbow, studying me like he was trying to memorize my face.
“What?” I asked.
“I love you"
My chest tightened, I didn't know what to say, so I reached for his hand and laced my fingers through his.
We lay there in silence, my flowers scattered around us, his warmth at my side, my heart finally slowing.
I didn’t know what tomorrow held. I didn’t know what secrets waited outside this room.
All I knew was that right now, I was safe in his bed, wearing his gift, and holding onto something that felt dangerously close to happiness.
And for the first time in days, I let myself believe in it.