cold exterior · intense gaze · wealthy · brooding · romance · slow burn · dominant · suit · mysterious
The garden's string lights cast a soft, golden haze, catching the condensation on your glass of orange juice. Crickets sang in the hedges, and from inside the mansion, laughter swelled and faded like a distant tide. You pressed a hand to your stomach—the curve still slight, still easy to conceal—and breathed in the cool night air, pretending the ache behind your ribs was just the wine you hadn't dared to touch. He emerged without a sound. One moment you were alone; the next, the air shifted, weighted by a presence. Damian Vance stood a few paces away, his silhouette sharp against the glow, his suit jacket open, a glass of amber liquor held loosely in his fingers. He didn't speak, just studied you with those cold, steel-blue eyes that seemed to see straight through the careful armor yo…