Chapter 60
CINDY’S POV
My brain flat-lined for a split second.
Then Nancy’s words slammed back into my skull like a gunshot.
“…the room he’ll be sharing with me tonight?”
Excuse me?
“You say?!” I barked, forgetting I was supposed to be Peony and that none of this should matter to me.
But fuck Peony. Fuck the whole plan.
This is my Damian we’re talking about. Ain’t no damn bitch sharing a room with him!
Nancy’s smile turned syrupy.
“You heard me, Peony. Damian and I are bunking together in that cute little suite. Come on, Dam-Dam, let’s go see!”
She squealed, tugging his arm like a kid with a new toy.
I didn’t say a word. Just hit him with the deadliest glare I’ve ever cooked up: Move and you’re dead, Thorne.
He froze, rooted to the ground.
Then, without a word, he jerked out of her grip, smoothing his shirt as if her touch left stains.
He turned to Elis, who was still lost in his AURA bubble, fiddling with the remote.
“Elis, what the heck is this? Why’d you set up some bullshit room arrangement without askin’ me?”
Elis didn’t even look up.
“Isn’t that your brand, big brother? Jumping in bed with anything in a skirt and Louboutins? I went out of my way to deliver Miss America on a silver platter. You should be thanking me, not acting ungrateful.”
I swear my jaw hit the floating couch.
Elis just delivered a verbal guillotine that dropped so cleanly Damian’s ego rolled across the room.
Damian looked like he was two seconds from exploding.
Nancy kept tugging. “Come on, Dam-Dam, stop playing hard to get. I know you want…”
“ENOUGH!” Damian roared.
The entire house went dead silent.
Even AURA shut up.
I’ve seen Damian mad.
I’ve seen him cocky, playful, horny, and petty.
But this? This was new.
His eyes blazed like blue fire, jaw clenched so tight I heard it crack.
“I’m in a relationship.”
The words bounced off the glass walls like bullets.
Elis’s remote slipped from his hand.
Nancy’s face crumpled like wet paper.
And for a millisecond, I forgot how to breathe.
Damian turned to her, low, deadly, dead serious.
“You feel me, Nancy? I belong to one woman and one woman only. And I love with every damn bone in my body. So take your pick-me bullshit, your tears, your ‘Dami-poo’ crap, and shove it up your ass. You’re Miss America? Act like it. Have some goddamn shame.”
Nancy’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again.
Nothing came out but a broken squeak. Her phone slipped from her hand and cracked on the glass floor.
And for the first time in her life, Nancy Spark was speechless.
Tears welled up in her eyes, real ones this time, then she spun and bolted, her sundress flapping behind like a surrendered flag.
Damian didn’t even watch her leave; his eyes stayed locked on mine.
And God.
The softness in them wrecked me.
Every wall I’d built, every doubt I’d carried about this man being just another player, crumpled instantly.
I gave him a smile so soft, so unguarded, it carried every unspoken I love you, Damian, across the room, and I didn’t care if Elis saw it.
With that, I murmured a shaky “excuse me, please,” and fled, cheeks burning, heart racing so fast I thought it would tear right out of my chest.
“Are you okay?” Elis called after me, but the glass door had already sealed shut.
I burst into the driveway and collapsed against the hood of Damian’s Royce, palms slamming into the warm metal as I fought to pull air into my lungs.
My vision blurred, chest tightening like someone had wrapped around my ribs.
Tears welled up before I could stop them, hot and silent.
I spent my whole life begging to be loved.
Begging for someone to look at me and say you’re mine without making me earn it, wait for it, or feel like I had to shrink myself.
But Damian never asked me to beg.
He never asked me to prove anything.
He just stood there in front of everyone and declared me his with a fierce kind of love that shook the ground.
He claimed me, loud enough for the whole damn world to hear, without a flicker of shame or hesitation.
Like loving me was the easiest thing he’d ever done.
The weight of that truth crashed over me all at once, beautiful, terrifying, and so real I couldn’t hold it in.
A raw, grateful sob slipped out as tears tracked my cheeks and dripped onto the matte paint. I pressed my forehead to the hood, fingers curling against the warm metal like it was the only thing keeping me tethered to earth.
For the first time, I didn’t have to fight to be seen.
I didn’t have to beg to be wanted.
I was loved—fiercely, loudly, completely—and the power of it left me trembling.
My breathing slowed, but my heart kept pounding against the hood, trying to reach him through the steel.
I lay there, eyes on the endless midday sky, cheeks wet, chest full of something that felt like forever.
The moment lingered, soft and sacred, until my phone buzzed against my hip, pulling me back.
I fished it out with trembling fingers.
Vicky.
I wiped my face with Damian’s hoodie, sniffed hard, and steadied my voice.
“Hey, bestie,” I said, trying to sound normal even though my throat still felt raw. “Got any updates for me?”
Vicky’s laugh crackled through the line, bright and chaotic.
“Duh, Cin! Of course I do. Cas baby’s right here in the office, wanna grill you with some quick questions. Hold up…”
“Oh my God, thank you so much, babe…”
“Girl, save the mushy stuff,” she cut me off, and I could practically see her rolling her eyes so hard they almost fell out.
“Handing the phone over now, stay cute!”
The line went quiet for a moment, just the soft rustle of the phone changing hands.
Then came the voice that could silence a courtroom with one raised eyebrow.
Cassandra Blake, the lioness herself.
Top divorce attorney in the city, a raging feminist, and Vicky’s ride-or-die since sandbox days.
“Cassandra Blake, Blake & Associates. Ms. Hart, are you on the line?”