Emma's POV
The call wasn't planned.
It never was with Damian.
It started with a simple thought…I should thank him.
It sounded harmless enough, a polite courtesy for the flowers, the candles, the books. But the moment my finger hovered over his name, that familiar rush of nerves twisted in my chest.
His contact was still saved the same way it had always been: Damian Cross, no emoji, no nickname, just those two words that somehow managed to carry the weight of everything I hadn't forgotten.
I pressed the call button before I could overthink it.
The line rang once, twice and then…..
"Emma."
My breath caught.
His voice hadn't changed, it was low, controlled, threaded with that quiet confidence that could unravel me faster than I wanted to admit. It was strange how something so familiar could still sound like danger wrapped in silk.
"Hi," I said, my voice softer than I'd intended. "I hope I'm not calling too late."
