Damian couldn't pretend anymore.
He didn't care about rules. Didn't care that she was a maid. Didn't care that her past was wrapped in shadow. All he knew was that he craved her — not just her touch, but her silence, her pain, her fire.
And every time he looked into Amara's eyes, he saw the pieces of himself he thought were long dead.
Amara had spent her whole life running from danger. But with Damian, she was running from something deeper: the ache of being loved.
He saw her.
Not as a servant. Not as a survivor.
But as a woman.
And no matter how hard she tried to keep her distance, his presence pulled her closer — like gravity had finally found her.
That night, the storm returned — loud, violent, wild.
So was she.
So was he.
She was heading to the laundry room when Damian caught her by the wrist.
"You're avoiding me," he said, voice low, storm-cracked.
"I'm trying to survive," she whispered.
His hand touched her face — trembling, gentle. "You don't have to survive anymore. Not here. Not with me."
She looked up.
He kissed her.
But this time it wasn't hesitant. It was desperate, possessive, real. Their lips crashed like thunder, months of longing collapsing into heat.
She didn't stop him.
She wanted to feel alive.
His hands slid under her dress as he pressed her against the cold wall of the hallway — kissing down her throat, tasting her skin like she was the only thing that could anchor him.
And when he lifted her into his arms and carried her to his bedroom, Amara didn't resist.
In that room, their bodies spoke the truths their mouths feared.
The softness of her moans. The way he worshipped every scar, every curve. He touched her like she was something sacred — not something broken.
"You're mine," he breathed against her skin.
"And you're my first peace," she whispered, trembling beneath him.
Their lovemaking was slow, intense — not just passion, but healing. He held her afterward like he never wanted to let go. And for the first time in years, Amara slept without fear.
But they weren't alone.
In the hallway, just outside the barely-closed door — Zina stood frozen.
She had come looking for Damian after a nightmare, hoping he'd sit with her the way he used to.
What she found instead shattered her.
Their sounds. Their closeness. The way Damian whispered Amara's name like a prayer.
Zina's fists clenched.
Her chest burned with rage and betrayal she didn't understand. She didn't remember what Amara had done yet — but now, she wanted to.
And she swore… when she did…
Amara would pay.
End of Episode 7