Ahicia heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching her room. She had just finished inspecting the gown the maids had dressed her in when the door opened, revealing Damian. His golden eyes swept over her briefly before settling on her face.
"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice calm yet expectant.
She raised a brow, leaning back slightly. "Do I look ready?"
His lips twitched, as if suppressing a smile. "You do. But you're not walking down those stairs on your own."
Ahicia's smirk deepened, and she crossed her arms. "I'm perfectly capable, you know."
Damian stepped into the room, his presence commanding and unyielding. "You've been injured, and while the treatment was thorough, I'm not risking you collapsing halfway down."
Before she could protest, he moved closer, bending slightly to scoop her into his arms with an ease that made her heart skip. She stiffened for a moment, caught off guard, before quickly masking her surprise with a playful grin.
"You know, you could have just offered your arm," she quipped.
"This is faster," he replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. His golden eyes flicked to hers briefly, a hint of amusement shining in them. "And safer."
Ahicia let out an exaggerated sigh, resting her hands lightly on his shoulders. "Fine. But don't get used to this."
Damian chuckled softly as he carried her out of the room and down the grand staircase. The descent was smooth, his movements steady and deliberate. The opulence of the mansion—from the glistening chandeliers to the polished marble floors—seemed even more striking from her elevated perspective.
When they reached the base of the staircase, he set her down gently but didn't step back immediately. His gaze lingered on her for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Shall we?"
Ahicia tilted her head, her smirk returning. "Lead the way."
Damian gestured toward the dining room, falling into step beside her as they entered the grand space. The long table was set with fine china and flickering candles, the aroma of roasted meat and spices filling the air. Despite the grandeur, the tension between them crackled like a live wire.
He pulled out a chair at the head of the table, gesturing for her to sit. She hesitated briefly before settling into the seat, her back straight and her chin held high. He took the seat opposite her, pouring wine into two glasses with an ease that suggested he was used to hosting.
"To unexpected encounters," he said, raising his glass.
Ahicia lifted her glass but didn't drink immediately. "I prefer to know what I'm toasting to. What exactly is unexpected about this?"
His smile widened slightly, and he took a sip of his wine before replying. "You. Showing up wounded, armed with both secrets and defiance. It's rare to meet someone who's both a mystery and a challenge."
Ahicia leaned back in her chair, studying him over the rim of her glass. "And what about you? You're not exactly an open book yourself."
He inclined his head, acknowledging the point. "Perhaps. But tonight isn't about me. It's about understanding what brings someone like you to my door."
She took a measured sip of her wine, the liquid warming her throat as she considered her response. "Let's just say I have a knack for being where I'm not expected."
Damian laughed softly, a sound that was both genuine and unsettling. "Clearly. But you're here now, under my roof. That means we play by my rules."
Ahicia's eyes narrowed slightly, though her smile didn't falter. "Rules are made to be tested."
The tension between them crackled like a live wire, neither willing to back down. Servants entered quietly, placing dishes of roasted lamb, steamed vegetables, and fresh bread on the table. Damian waited until they had left before speaking again.
"I admire your spirit, Ahicia," he said, his voice quieter now but no less commanding. "But defiance has its limits. Be careful not to overstep yours."
She met his gaze head-on, her smirk returning. "I'll keep that in mind."
The meal continued in a charged silence, each course more elaborate than the last. Ahicia used the time to observe him, noting the way he carried himself with an ease that came from years of power and control. Damian, in turn, seemed content to let her simmer in her thoughts, his golden eyes never straying far from her.
By the time dessert was served—a decadent chocolate torte—the air between them had shifted slightly, the earlier tension giving way to something more complex. As the meal concluded, Damian set down his fork and folded his hands on the table.
"You intrigue me, Ahicia," he said. "But intrigue alone won't guarantee your safety here."
Ahicia's expression hardened slightly, though she kept her voice light. "Safety is overrated."
His smile was slow, deliberate. "Perhaps. But you'd do well to remember that in my house, safety isn't something you gamble with. It's something I grant."
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table as she met his gaze. "Then I suppose I'll have to make sure I'm worth the gamble."
Damian's laughter was soft, almost approving. "Indeed. Let's see if you can."