When Damian stepped into the bedroom, his eyes found Alina immediately. For a moment, his expression softened — relief, maybe even a flash of guilt. But then he seemed to draw himself up, slipping on the cold composure that had always been his shield.
Alina sat curled at the edge of the bed, Damian's shirt bunched around her knees. The room smelled of him, but it no longer felt like safety. It felt like something fragile and borrowed, already slipping through her hands.
"Alina," he began carefully, taking a step toward her.
She flinched. Just barely — but enough. Damian froze, his mouth tightening.
---
"She was here," Alina whispered.
Damian's jaw flexed. "Who?"
"Don't insult me." Her voice broke on the last word. "The woman who let herself in like she owned the place. Who told me I should pack my things and leave before I get hurt."
His silence was answer enough.
Something twisted cruelly inside her. "So you do know who I'm talking about."
"Alina, listen to me—"
"I did. I have listened to you. Every time you asked me to trust you, to let you in, to give you more of myself than I've ever given anyone…" Her hands clenched into the fabric of his shirt. "I let you. I did it without question. And now I find out there's some woman who thinks she knows you better than I ever could — who waltzes into your home and tries to scare me off?"
---
Damian's face darkened. Not with anger at her — but at something else, something older and uglier. He sank down onto the edge of the bed, scrubbing a hand over his mouth.
"She shouldn't have come here," he said finally, voice rough. "That was a line she never had the right to cross."
"That's not an answer. Who is she?"
"A complication," he ground out. Then, when she just stared at him, wounded and waiting: "Her name is Celeste. We were involved… once. Years ago."
Alina's chest seized. "Involved how? Like this?" Her voice cracked. "Was she your submissive too?"
A muscle ticked in his jaw. "It was more than that. Less than that. It was a mistake I've paid for repeatedly. She's connected to certain business partners. She uses that leverage when it suits her."
---
Alina's stomach turned. "So I'm what, a pretty distraction? The next toy to be used against you?"
His eyes snapped to hers, sharp and almost pained. "Don't. Don't reduce what we have to that."
"Then tell me why she feels so confident — so entitled — that she can walk in here and threaten me."
Damian stood abruptly, pacing away like he couldn't bear to be still. "Because she's petty. Vindictive. And because she knows exactly how to get under my skin. She saw your things here. Saw you. And she wants to scare you off because it's the easiest way to hurt me."
---
Alina wrapped her arms around herself, feeling suddenly cold. "Is she a threat to me, Damian? Truly?"
He turned back to face her. There was a shadow in his eyes, some old fear or fury that hadn't faded.
"No," he said finally. "Not directly. Celeste likes her games, but she thrives on manipulation, not violence. Still…" He hesitated. "She'll try to plant doubts. Try to make you question everything between us."
"Seems like she's already succeeded," Alina whispered.
Damian's expression crumpled for just an instant. Then he crossed the space between them in two strides, sinking to his knees before her.
"Look at me." His hands gripped her thighs, gentle but firm. "Whatever she says, whatever lies she spins, know this: I have never let anyone inside the way I've let you in. Not her. Not anyone."
---
Her throat felt tight. "Then why does it feel like you're still holding back pieces of yourself? Like there are doors in you that I'm not allowed to open?"
Damian closed his eyes. When he opened them again, something raw and pleading lived there.
"Because some doors hide things that could ruin us. Things I'm not ready for you to see." He drew in a shaky breath. "But I'm trying, Alina. Don't walk away. Please."
The vulnerability in his voice nearly undid her. Against every instinct of self-preservation, she reached out and cradled his face in her hands.
"I don't want to walk away. I just want the truth. I want all of you — even the messy, damaged parts you're so sure will drive me off."
Damian leaned into her touch like a man starved. "Then stay. And I promise, I'll try to let you see more. Even if it terrifies me."
---
He stood and pulled her gently to her feet. Their bodies pressed together — not with urgent desire this time, but with a trembling need for reassurance. For something to hold onto.
When his mouth found hers, it wasn't about power or lust. It was an unspoken apology. A plea. A promise he didn't yet know how to put into words.
And despite the uncertainty still churning inside her, Alina clung to him, letting that silent vow wrap around them both.
Because for better or worse, she was already his.
And leaving would hurt far more than staying ever could.