The next morning, Ayla sat at the small dining table with a mug of untouched coffee cooling in front of her. She'd spent the night thinking, replaying every conversation, every controlling remark Damien had made since Leon came back into the picture. Her chest felt heavy — not from fear, but from the suffocating tension building between them.
Damien came out of the bedroom, phone in one hand, jacket in the other. "You're up early," he said, eyeing her.
"I couldn't sleep," she replied.
He glanced at the coffee, then at her. "Something on your mind?"
"Yes," she said, deciding she wasn't going to swallow it down this time. "You're making this relationship feel like a war zone."
His head tilted slightly, as if she'd just spoken in another language. "A war zone?"
"You monitor where I go, who I talk to, you make demands… I feel like I'm under interrogation every day. That's not love, Damien. That's… exhausting."
For a long moment, he just looked at her, unreadable. Then he set his jacket down and moved closer. "Do you know why I'm like this?"
"Because you don't trust me," she shot back.
"No," he said quietly. "Because I don't trust the world. The world takes what you love if you let your guard down. I'm not going to lose you."
Her lips pressed together. "You're pushing me away more than the world ever could."
Something flickered in his eyes — frustration, maybe even hurt — but it was gone too quickly to read. He exhaled slowly. "Then maybe… we should get away for a while."
Ayla blinked. "Get away?"
"A vacation," he said, tone lighter now. "Somewhere quiet. No interruptions. Just you and me. Maybe that will… cool things down."
She hesitated. Part of her wanted to agree, if only for a break from the tension. But another part wondered if isolation with Damien would make things worse. "Where?" she asked finally.
"Somewhere far from here," he said, a faint smile touching his lips. "Somewhere no one can find us."
That last part made her uneasy, though she didn't let it show. She nodded slowly. "I'll think about it."
Damien leaned down, kissed her forehead, and murmured, "Good girl," before grabbing his jacket again.
When the door closed behind him, Ayla let out the breath she'd been holding. Her eyes went straight to her phone. Leon still hadn't replied.
Her fingers hovered over his name. She didn't notice Damien's vacation suggestion had already planted itself like a seed in her mind — one that could either be an escape… or a trap.
Ayla's thumb hovered over Leon's name for a few seconds before she finally tapped it.
We need to talk.
She stared at the screen, half-expecting silence. But barely a minute later, her phone buzzed.
Leon: Where?
Ayla: Somewhere quiet. No one else.
Leon: You sure about this?
Ayla: Yes.
Her heart pounded harder than it should have as she typed the final message.
Ayla: Tomorrow. Noon.
She set the phone down, forcing herself not to overthink it. Leon wasn't just a piece of her past — he was the one person she could still breathe around. And right now, she needed air.
On the other side of town, Leon sat on the edge of his couch, phone still in his hand. He hadn't expected her to reach out, not after the way Damien hovered over her like a shadow.
From the kitchen, Maureen's voice cut through his thoughts. "Who's that?"
He didn't look up. "No one you need to worry about."
Her footsteps drew closer until she leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. "I'm already worried, Leon. You're mine now. Remember?"
Leon's jaw tightened. "We had an agreement. You can call yourself whatever you want, but I'm not answering to you."
Maureen smirked, stepping into his space just enough to test his patience. "Careful. I can make life very inconvenient for you."
He stood, looking her dead in the eye. "You've already tried. It didn't work. Don't push it."
For a moment, her expression faltered — but only for a moment. "Fine," she said with mock sweetness, "just don't expect me to play nice when I see her."
Leon didn't bother replying. His mind was already at tomorrow's meeting.
That evening, Damien sat alone in his study, laptop open, a map pulled up on the screen. His phone was on speaker.
"Yes," he said into it, voice low. "The villa should be ready by Friday. I want it private. No staff hanging around. We'll bring what we need ourselves."
A pause.
"I don't care about the cost. Just make sure there's no way for anyone to find us once we're there."
When he hung up, his lips curved slightly. If Ayla thought she could keep her distance, she was wrong. Soon, there wouldn't be any distance to keep.