Isla's bag rested against the corner of her new room, but her mind was far from unpacking.
She perched on the edge of the bed, fingers tracing the crisp edge of the sheets, replaying Damian's presence over and over.
Boundaries. Respect. Under my roof.
She let out a soft laugh, almost inaudible.
Boundaries… yes. But they weren't walls, just… hurdles.
Her phone buzzed again. Another call from her mother.
"Isla? Are you settled?" Margaret's voice was warm, tinged with worry.
"Yes, Mom. Dinner is soon, Damian said,"
Isla replied, smoothing her hair nervously.
"Good. Remember to eat properly, and don't overthink things. I know it's strange being under someone else's roof, but Damian is a good man. He's been your father's friend for years—he'll take care of you."
She smiled faintly. "I know, Mom."
There was a pause, and Margaret's voice softened. "And Isla… be honest with me if anything feels… off. Okay?"
"I will, Mom," she promised, then hung up.
The moment the call ended, Isla felt a twinge of anticipation.
Every instinct in her body told her that tonight, just tonight, the quiet tension with Damian would stretch thinner than ever.
A soft knock on the doorframe pulled her from her thoughts.
"Dinner is ready," Damian said, his tone neutral, professional, yet there was a subtle undercurrent in his eyes—a flicker that betrayed the slightest curiosity.
"Yes, coming," Isla said, adjusting the hem of her dress and taking a deep breath. Keep it composed. Just dinner. Nothing more.
They walked down the hallway in silence, their footsteps echoing on the polished wooden floor.
Damian led her into the dining room, a candle flickering softly on the table, creating an intimate, almost imperceptibly warm glow.
"Sit," Damian instructed, gesturing to the chair across from him.
Isla did, carefully placing her hands on her lap.
She tried to focus on the table setting—the silverware, the fine china—but all her attention kept drifting toward Damian: the way his jawline caught the light, the slow, deliberate movements of his hands as he poured water into glasses.
"You've had a long day," he said finally, breaking the quiet.
"How was your journey?"
"Smooth," she replied lightly. "Though… it feels strange to be here, alone with you."
He raised an eyebrow, a faint, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Alone… or… unsupervised?"
Her heart skipped a beat. Careful, Isla.
She blinked rapidly, forcing herself to refocus.
"Unsupervised, I suppose," she said, voice steady, though heat crept into her cheeks.
Damian's gaze lingered. "I expect respect," he said softly, yet there was a nuance there—a slight warning, almost playful.
"Yes, Damian," she whispered.
{ Dinner}
The dinner began with polite conversation.
Damian asked about her studies, her interests, and her friends, but Isla couldn't help noticing the subtle undertones in his tone—protective, commanding, and somehow, slightly personal.
"So, do you plan to explore the city while I'm away on business?" Damian asked.
"I might," Isla replied, keeping her voice even.
"I want to get familiar with the area."
"Familiarity is good," he said, "but you'll also need to follow the house layout. Safety comes first."
Rules. Boundaries. Safety. Isla wanted to tease him, to test him, to see how far he would go before restraining himself.
It's my chance. I've waited years for this.
She lifted her fork and smiled innocently. "I understand. I'll be careful."
Damian's eyes held hers a moment longer than necessary. "See that you are," he said, then looked away, placing his napkin neatly on the table.
{ After Dinner }
Once the table was cleared, Damian suggested, "I'll show you the house. You should know where everything is."
As they walked through the hallways, Isla could feel the charged silence stretching between them.
Every brush of his hand against hers as he handed her a towel or opened a door sent a shiver down her spine.
She bit her lip, forcing herself to focus on the tour rather than the heat rising in her chest.
"You sleep on the second floor," he explained, "guest room at the end of the hall. Bathroom attached. Everything you need is there."
"Thank you," she said, though she didn't move.
She wanted to memorize the sound of his voice, the warmth of his presence, the subtle scent of him that lingered in the air.
He noticed her hesitation. "Isla?"
"Yes?"
"Your room."
She nodded, stepping inside.
The door closed softly behind her, but her heart was still racing.
Alone, she approached the window and stared out at the city skyline, taking a deep, shaky breath.
This is it. My chance. Under his roof, under his watch… and soon, I'll have him.
****
But Damian wasn't far.
He paused outside her door, his shadow stretching across the carpet.
And for the briefest moment, Isla felt as though he could see straight into her thoughts… and her desires.