(Evelyn's POV)
The dining room had fallen silent except for the occasional clink of silver against porcelain. Dinner was already over, the plates cleared, and Clara had retreated upstairs with a strange tightness in her shoulders. I had lingered in the lounge, quietly sipping tea while my parents discussed business over brandy with Mr. Vale—no, Damien—sitting in the armchair opposite them.
I still hadn't fully recovered from the night in his penthouse. My lips still remembered the way his mouth had claimed them. The way he had looked at me—like I was both a challenge and a possession—still played on a loop in my mind. And now here we were, in my parents' house, pretending nothing had happened.
Or at least, I was pretending. He was too good at playing both roles.
I glanced up from my cup just in time to see him lean forward in his seat, the amber light from the chandelier catching on the sharp planes of his face. His voice was smooth, casual, as if he were asking for another drink.
"Henry," he began, "I'd like to take Evelyn out for a while tonight. I need to show her something."
The cup froze halfway to my lips. My father looked up from his brandy, brows lifting in mild surprise. "At this hour?"
Damien's mouth curved—not quite a smile, more like the hint of one. "Yes. And depending on my mood when we return… I might reconsider the proposal you sent me."
The words hit like a strike of lightning.
I set my cup down too quickly; the porcelain clinked sharply against the saucer. My mother's head snapped toward him, her expression flickering between shock and something dangerously close to offense.
My father leaned back in his chair, studying Damien carefully. "You'll reconsider?"
Damien's gaze didn't leave my father's, though I could feel his awareness of me like a heat at my side. "Perhaps. But I'll need the evening. And I'll need Evelyn. Alone." His eyes slid toward me then, slow, deliberate. "She might not come home tonight."
The room went still.
My breath caught, my mind tripping over itself. What did he just say?
My mother's voice cut through the silence, crisp and controlled. "Excuse me? What exactly do you mean by that?"
Damien leaned back in his chair, his long fingers resting loosely on the armrest, completely unbothered by her tone. "Exactly what I said, Mrs. Rothwell. Evelyn may not be back this evening. It depends."
My pulse thundered in my ears. The air felt too thick, like it was pressing against my lungs. "I… I don't—"
"Evelyn," my father said, his voice low but weighted. "Is this… arrangement… something you agreed to?"
I stared at him, at my mother, at Damien—who sat there like he had all the time in the world, watching me with those dark eyes that seemed to peel away every excuse, every shield.
My lips parted, but no words came.
Damien answered for me. "She hasn't objected."
That earned him a sharp look from my mother, but he ignored it entirely, his attention fixed on me now. There was something unspoken in his gaze—something meant for me alone. Don't contradict me.
"I'll have her back when I choose," he said finally, rising from the chair in one smooth movement. The height difference between him and my father was suddenly very obvious, but so was the control radiating from him. "And Henry—" his tone softened just enough to sound like a concession, though it was anything but— "you'll have my decision about the proposal after tonight."
It was a promise wrapped in a threat.
My father hesitated, then gave the smallest nod. "Fine. But I expect her safe."
"You have my word," Damien replied, though his gaze was still locked on me, and I knew that 'safe' was a relative term in his world.
He reached for his coat, and before I could process the moment enough to protest, he was already at my side. "Come."
I looked at my parents one last time. My mother's lips were pressed into a thin line, her eyes sharp with unspoken warnings. My father's expression was harder to read—measured, calculating, as if weighing the advantage of letting me walk out that door with Damien.
My legs moved before my brain caught up, and I found myself following him into the cool night air.