Her hands rested in her lap, but her fingers were tightly interlocked, knuckles turning white. Outside the window, streaks of light rushed past in reverse, but Nayla saw none of it. Her gaze was vacant, fixed on a point nowhere in particular. Her mind drifted far, still not fully returned to her body.
Her thoughts and heart were still struggling to process the decision she had just made. No matter how broken her marriage had been, divorce was never easy. There were silent wounds, yet somewhere between them, a whisper of relief.
No words could truly describe the storm of emotions inside Nayla right now. Including the unfamiliar sensation settling at the nape of her neck. A twinge of fear, or perhaps, vigilance. Because the man beside her was someone capable of taking her anywhere he pleased.
"Are you always this brave?" Damian asked, his gaze never leaving the road.
Nayla turned quickly but chose to merely shrug in response.
He didn't press further. The only sound was his hand occasionally shifting from the wheel to the gear stick. From time to time, he glanced at her, not out of worry, but as though he were studying her. Like someone savoring the moment their prey began to lose direction.
"Do you regret it, Nay?"
Her eyes narrowed. "No. Not at all."
A faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at Damian's lips. "Then welcome to my lair."
Nayla scoffed under her breath. Escaping Nathan was the first thing she had to do. But freedom now seemed to be laughing at her. The man beside her might just introduce her to a different kind of trap— one even tighter.
"Congratulations, Damian. I have to admit, this time you 'won,'" Nayla said, turning to face him.
Damian kept driving without looking her way. A small smile appeared at the corner of his lips. "You think this is a win, Nayla?"
"Don't you enjoy it when people have no choice but to come to you?"
"What I enjoy," he said, his voice like a low growl, "is when people finally realize who can save them."
Nayla quickly looked away. Her breath caught in her chest— not from fear, but from the realization that she did need saving. And worse, by this man.
"I could've gone to anyone," she muttered, trying to salvage what pride she had left.
Damian chuckled softly. "But you didn't."
Nayla closed her eyes for a moment. There was an exhaustion sleep couldn't cure. A sense of defeat words couldn't explain.
"Don't get it twisted, Damian. I'm not here because I want to be."
"I know." His tone was light, but his glance toward her was piercing. "But you're here. And that's enough."
Nayla leaned back against the seat. Her eyes stayed on the quiet, dark road. For a moment, the only sound was the engine. But she knew, Damian's silence wasn't from a lack of words. He was waiting for the right moment to strike, as always.
"Are you happy, Nayla?" His voice broke the silence.
Nayla turned her head, exhausted. As expected, Damian had returned with another unpredictable question. "That's a strange thing to ask after I just filed for a divorce."
"Precisely," Damian replied, turning to her. "I want to know if you're relieved… or just out of options."
She didn't answer. Her eyes blinked more than usual. Her whole body frozen.
"Do you still love him?" Damian's tone didn't shift. Calm, without pressure, as if he merely wanted to know. But Nayla knew it was more than curiosity.
"I did," she said softly, staring out the window. "But love isn't enough."
"No." Damian gave a small nod. "Love is never enough."
Silence again. But not awkward silence, more like a space to breathe, to surrender.
The car slowed as they passed through tall black gates. Seeing the modern, multi-level house with towering glass windows, Nayla realized this wasn't the house from last night. Maybe it was a villa Damian had rented to hide her, or perhaps another of his homes.
Garden lights flickered on, bathing the structure in golden hues. Yet to Nayla, the mood wasn't warm. It was haunting. Every corner looked elegant, yet slightly intimidating.
As Damian killed the engine, Nayla stared at the building, awe and apprehension mingling inside her. It didn't feel like a home. It felt like a place to lose yourself.
He opened her door, motioning for her to go in first.
Her steps echoed on the brown floor. White walls met warm lighting and a faint woody scent. Luxurious, yet hollow. As if the house was designed to strip anyone who entered bare.
Damian appeared with two glasses of wine, offering her one.
"Starting tonight, everything will change, Nayla."
She accepted the glass, hiding her trembling fingers. "And if I'm not ready for that change?"
Damian stepped closer, lowering his head slightly. His voice barely a whisper, yet heavy with meaning. "Then I'll make you ready."
Nayla stared back. Her heart pounding. She nearly drowned in those deep hazel eyes. But just before she could fall, her phone rang. The screen lit up faintly, flashing a name that clenched her heart.
Adrian Moretti.