Eilika stood close to him, her knuckles occasionally brushing against his forehead as she moved the towel in slow, rhythmic circles over his damp hair. The scent of his soap was overwhelming, and she hoped he couldn't hear the frantic thudding of her heart against her ribs.
"I received a request from your father. The valet informed me just this morning," Damian said, his voice vibrating slightly through his chest.
"A request?" Eilika asked, her hands faltering for a split second before she resumed. "What kind of request?"
"I have no idea. I was wondering if you might have some insight," he replied.
"No," Eilika said firmly, though a knot of anxiety tightened in her stomach.
She knew her family's estate had been struggling with mounting losses lately. The thought that her father might be using her position to ask for a financial favor, or worse, a political one, made her feel cold. She didn't want to be a burden or a transaction in Damian's eyes.
