Dane's POV:
I watched her face as I led her into the living room, her small palm warm against mine. That look of pure, wide-eyed wonder, it was the fuel I lived on.
I didn't get it, honestly. How could a bunch of hanging glass and a chandelier make a person look like they'd just seen a miracle?
"Danny, this place is less of a home and more of a castle. It's beautiful," she cooed, her fingers tugging at my arm as she spun in a slow circle.
The fireplace was already roaring, the orange flames casting long, flickering shadows that made the room feel like it existed outside of time. The oak paneling glowed a deep, rich amber, and the ceilings were so high they disappeared into the darkness above. We had these curved, sage-colored sofas that caught the firelight, reflecting it back in soft, gold patches. Even the floor, polished parquet—gleamed in long, honeyed strips beneath her feet.
