Ofelia’s POV
We stood frozen in the hallway like two statues. My heart was still racing from the dream, and now Damien was right here in front of me, looking unfairly handsome in his sharp black suit. Neither of us spoke.
The air felt thick and heavy. I was painfully aware of the dream version of him—warm, smiling, whispering sweet things in my ear. The real Damien looked at my new outfit for a second too long before he quickly turned his gaze away and cleared his throat.
“Breakfast,” he said in that cold, commanding voice, then walked away as if nothing had happened.
I followed several steps behind him, annoyed at how easily he regained control. My cheeks felt warm. Why did one look from him still affect me so much? I hated it.
Victoria was already seated at the dining table when we
