Serena
"You do not have to pretend, Mia Cara. You spent at least ten minutes admiring my features. Surely, a few of those thoughts involved me naked."
His words kept replaying themselves inside my head, and I didn't know which reaction to muster.
Embarrassment? For staring at his face like a fucking puppy, or shame for not shutting him up before he walked off, leaving me hot in the cheeks?
He was right; at least, I couldn't deny that much.
I was indeed imagining a lot of things as my eyes breathed in his face, but him being naked, well, that wasn't exactly the image inside my head, at least not until he stood up mid-conversation, leaving my mouth agape.
Fucking hell, he was tall. If I were to round up a figure, he was at least 6 feet 5 inches tall.
His broad shoulders and toned arms didn't do anything to relieve the situation, and just before his figure completely disappeared down the hall, I noticed how dark his hair was.
I'd be lying if I didn't imagine my fingers gripping them as he plowed my insides, except that the last part wasn't even supposed to be in my thoughts.
This was clearly going to be a marriage of convenience; that much I was sure of.
"I could decide to change the rules if I want to, Serena. Certainly, I would not be having a wife whose bed I wouldn't warm every night."
What the fuck did he mean by that statement, though? There was no time to overthink or brood. I have to talk to my father about this; there has to be another way.
I suddenly became aware of my surroundings, and that was when I realized that I had been stuck in a daze for at least ten minutes.
I made to move, and a whiff of his lingering perfume filled my lungs.
I had to lean in to fully absorb the deliciousness of his scent.
If he saw me right now, he would definitely think I was a creepy fangirl, but I didn't care.
There was no way his perfume was something anyone could easily get; I was almost certain of it. It smelled so rich, so thick, so exotic, so freaking masculine.
Cut it out, Serena, you're a grown-ass woman. For once since Damien walked into the room, the voice inside my head was right. I need to find my father and talk to him about this arrangement.
While I could not deny there was some weird chemistry between Damien and me, marriage isn't just something anyone should walk into without being prepared.
After all, it's my life, and I should have a fucking say in it.
I walked past the gigantic flower vase that stood in the middle of the big hall leading to my dad's study.
I never really understood why my dad kept it there, but every time I asked him why, he'd tell me how much it reminded him of my mom, and when you think about it, one shouldn't argue with a man in grief.
I stopped mid-stride to loosen my hair from the bun I had put it in earlier. I exhaled as I let the relief slip slowly into my brain cells and my body.
I disliked putting my hair up in a bun; it's so uncomfortable, and it makes me feel like my brain cells are going to snap.
I shook my hair and ruffled the edges with my fingers. I love my hair—the length, the texture, the luscious look; it was my favorite feature about my face.
Now that's taken care of, it was time to take the bull by the horns.
I was a few steps away from my father's study when I heard Damien's voice.
I couldn't particularly make out what their conversation was, but when I slightly turned the doorknob, the image of my father looking at Damien with a death stare almost made me trip over.
My dad was not a man who prided himself on being expressive, no matter the emotion.
The one time I saw him cry was when my mom died. I'd always remember it because that was the closest I had seen him show true emotion.
But standing here and looking at him glare at Damien made me really intrigued.
I couldn't contain the tension in my stomach, and I mistakenly made a sound.
My father's eyes immediately darted to where I stood, but Damien was the only one who didn't seem surprised by my appearance, almost as though he knew that I had been eavesdropping.
Well, cat out of the bag. There was no use pretending, so I stepped fully into the room. I could almost taste the charged atmosphere.
"How long have you been spying on our conversation?" my father asked with a stern look on his face.
Before I could come up with an answer, Damien beat me to it.
"Long enough to not hear my last sentence."
His eyes remained on my father, and I could tell something was definitely going on that I needed to know about.
"What is this about?" I mustered a sentence despite the way my heart was pounding against my chest.
Damien finally turned, as if he just remembered I was in the room, but almost immediately, the look on his face changed.
He stared me down for a good minute, and I could have sworn he wasn't thinking about anything contract-related or whatever the fuck he came here to talk to my dad about.
His eyes burned into my skin, and the heat from before suddenly filled up my lungs. Sheesh, he was hot as hell.
His eyes went to my hair, all the way to my face, and then stopped at my mouth before resuming again and working down my entire body.
His gaze did not look like that of the calm, collected man I met at breakfast; he looked hungry, and I was sure as hell on the menu.
A polite cough ruptured whatever was going on, and my dad spoke finally.
"Damien, tell Serena what it was that you were talking about."
Damien didn't move for a second, his eyes not leaving mine when he spoke.
"I was talking about how I was going to fuck your daughter for the first 365 days of our marriage."
My stomach did the thing, and now I wasn't sure if it was the pancakes I had this morning or… fuck! It can't be.