The night after their walk in the garden lingered in Eleanor's mind like a dream she couldn't shake. Damian's words, his touch, the way his gray eyes had softened when he held her hand—it was all too real, too dangerous for her heart.
Yet, as the morning sun streamed through the curtains, she couldn't bring herself to regret it.
Eleanor dressed quickly, choosing a simple white blouse and soft beige skirt. She was just about to leave her room when a knock sounded on the door.
"Come in," she called.
The door opened, and to her surprise, Damian stepped inside. He was already dressed in his usual crisp suit, his tie perfectly knotted, his expression as composed as always—yet there was something different in the way he looked at her.
"Good morning," he said, his voice softer than usual.
"Good morning," she replied, her heart fluttering.
"I wanted to speak with you before I left for the office." He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "About last night."
Eleanor's breath caught. "Last night?"
Damian's jaw tightened slightly, as if weighing his words. "I meant what I said, Eleanor. I didn't expect this, but I can't ignore it anymore. What's happening between us… it's real."
Her heart skipped, but before she could respond, Damian continued, his tone lower now. "But we need to be careful. If anyone finds out we're married, you could be in danger again. Until I deal with the people who want to hurt you, this has to stay a secret."
Eleanor nodded slowly, understanding but unable to hide the slight ache in her chest. "I understand."
For a brief moment, Damian's gaze softened even more. He reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering for just a heartbeat too long.
"I'll be back early tonight," he said finally, his voice low. "Maybe we can… talk more then."
She nodded, trying not to let her smile grow too wide. "I'll be here."
---
The day passed in quiet anticipation. Eleanor spent most of it in the library, though she barely read a single page. Her mind was too full—of Damian, of his words, of what it meant for them now.
When evening finally arrived, she found herself pacing by the window again, waiting for the sound of his car. When it finally pulled into the driveway, her heart skipped.
Damian entered the mansion looking as composed as always, but when his eyes found hers standing in the hallway, his expression shifted—softened, just for her.
"You waited again," he said, his voice carrying a faint note of amusement.
"I told you," she said, her cheeks warming, "this is my home too now."
Damian's lips curved into a faint smirk, though there was something warmer in his gaze. "I'm glad you think so."
---
Dinner was different that night. Damian chose to sit closer to her again, and this time, their conversation flowed more easily. Eleanor laughed at one of his rare teasing remarks, and he seemed almost surprised to hear the sound.
After dinner, he surprised her by suggesting, "Would you like to sit in the living room for a while? Just… talk?"
She nodded eagerly. "I'd like that."
---
The living room was warm and softly lit, the crackling fireplace filling the silence between them. Eleanor sat on the couch, and Damian sat beside her—not too close, but closer than usual.
For a while, they talked about simple things. She told him about her love for books, about how she used to dream of traveling the world. He listened quietly, his usual cold demeanor replaced by something almost… fascinated.
"I can't imagine you ever being invisible," Damian said suddenly when she mentioned how unnoticed she felt before meeting him.
Eleanor blinked, surprised. "Why not?"
He looked at her, his gaze steady. "Because you're not the kind of person anyone could forget."
Her breath caught, her heart racing. For a long moment, they just stared at each other, the air between them charged with something unspoken.
Finally, Damian moved closer, his hand reaching up to gently cup her face. "Eleanor…"
Her heart pounded, her breath shallow. She knew she should stop this, remind herself of the danger, of the rules they had set. But when his thumb brushed her cheek gently, all rational thought faded.
Almost hesitantly, Damian leaned in, his lips brushing hers softly. The kiss was gentle at first, careful, as though he were testing her reaction. But when Eleanor's hands moved to his chest, clutching his shirt lightly, Damian deepened the kiss, his usual control slipping.
The world seemed to fall away, leaving only the warmth of his lips, the steady beat of his heart beneath her hands. It was real, undeniable, and far too dangerous.
When they finally pulled apart, breathing heavily, Damian rested his forehead against hers, his gray eyes stormy with unspoken emotions.
"This shouldn't be happening," he said quietly, his voice almost strained. "But I can't stay away from you anymore."
Eleanor's chest tightened, her voice barely a whisper. "Then don't."
Damian closed his eyes briefly, as though fighting some internal battle, then pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her protectively.
And in that moment, Eleanor knew—this secret marriage was no longer just about protection.
This was becoming something far more dangerous. Something that could shatter both of them.