"You don't need to promise me that," she replied, her voice a low, rough murmur as her gaze locked fiercely onto his. "Official or not, we're not going to do this forever," she stated, the finality in her tone cutting through the charged air. His molten eyes—a swirling storm of gray and black held her captive.
Damian just stared at her, an intensity in his gaze that made her feel laid bare, as if she were the most exquisite creation he had ever encountered. "I won't force you," he finally conceded, drawing back an inch, but his signature, commanding authority returned instantly.
"Tell me, Alina, why were you without a sweater in this cold?"
His abrupt shift was jarring. So, the bossy CEO was back, ready to reprimand her for a minor oversight?
"I left in a hurry and practically forgot it was cold outside," she mumbled, moving from her spot to sink onto one of the plush couches.
