I didn’t even hesitate.
By 9 PM, I was in front of The Wolfe Tower, my heels clicking on the polished marble as I handed the doorman the keycard Damon had given me. He didn’t blink—just nodded and sent me up in a private elevator to the top floor.
The ride felt like a countdown.
Each floor ticked by with a mix of anticipation and nerves.
What were we doing?
What was I becoming?
The doors slid open to reveal a sleek, modern penthouse flooded with warm light and floor-to-ceiling windows. The city stretched out like a glowing sea beyond the glass.
And then I saw him.
Damon was standing near the balcony doors, sleeves rolled, drink in hand, watching the skyline like he owned it. He turned slowly when he heard the elevator open.
His gaze swept over me, lingering at the curve of my hips
