Chapter 6
The walk to Damon’s private study was a quiet, heavy procession through the sprawling mansion. The bright, airy luminosity of the dining hall transitioned into a deeply comforting, amber-lit warmth in the study. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, leather armchairs, and a large stone fireplace crackling with fresh wood provided a safe haven from the chaos they had just unleashed.
Damon guided Naomi to one of the plush armchairs. He moved with a restrained grace, his masculine presence anchoring the room. He walked over to a crystal decanter resting on a side table and poured a small measure of amber liquid into a glass.
He returned to Naomi, kneeling beside her chair, completely ignoring the fact that his tailored trousers were pressing into the rug. He offered her the glass, the artistic tattoos on his fingers standing out against the crystal.
“Will this help calm your nerves, Naomi?” Damon asked, his deep voice a soothing rumble.
Naomi took the glass with shaking hands, her fair, rosy skin still uncharacteristically pale. She took a small sip, the burn of the liquid forcing a ragged breath from her lungs. She set the glass down and reached up, her fingers grazing the cold gold of the empty memorial locket resting against her white collar.
“His name was Leo,” Naomi whispered, tears spilling freely down her cheeks. “He was only four years old. He got sick so fast, Damon. That ash... it was the only piece of him I had left in the world. And she washed him down a drain.”
Damon’s sharply defined jaw clenched tightly. He reached out, gently covering her trembling hand with his own.
“What was his favorite thing to do, Naomi?” Damon asked softly, encouraging her to speak, to fill the void Sabine had tried to create.
Naomi offered a broken, watery smile. “He loved the rain. He used to sit by the window and watch the drops race each other down the glass. He had these big, bright eyes. He was so gentle.”
“Did he share your expressive eyes?” Damon asked, his thumb gently brushing across her knuckles.
“He did,” Naomi sobbed, finally leaning forward, her white ruffled maid headband slipping slightly as she buried her face into Damon’s shoulder.
May you like
Damon did not hesitate. He wrapped his powerful, broad arms around her delicate frame, holding her securely against his chest. He closed his eyes, inhaling the soft, clean scent of her hair. The quiet mutual affection they had harbored for months finally broke through the rigid barriers of their stations. For the first time, Damon held the woman he had secretly loved since the day she walked into his home.
“Do you know how deeply it breaks me to see you in this kind of pain, Naomi?” Damon asked, his voice thick with unmasked emotion.
