The engagement changed nothing.
Damien had hoped it would. Had hoped the promise of forever would settle something in her. Would quiet the restlessness. Would remind her that she was chosen, wanted, loved beyond reason.
But Christabel was not a woman who could be settled.
She was a woman who needed to burn.
And the engagement was just another cage.
---
"You're not wearing the ring," Damien said.
They were at breakfast. She was drinking tea. Her left hand was bare.
"I don't like rings."
"You've never worn rings."
"This is different."
"How?"
She looked at him.
"Because this ring means something. And I'm not ready for it to mean something yet."
"When will you be ready?"
She set down her tea.
"I don't know."
---
He should have asked more questions.
Should have pushed. Should have demanded to know what was happening inside her head.
But he was afraid.
Afraid of the answers. Afraid of what she might say. Afraid that the woman he loved was slipping away and he didn't know how to stop it.
So he said nothing.
And the silence between them grew.
---
She started staying out later again.
Not every night. Just often enough. Just long enough for him to wonder. Just long enough for the fear to settle into his bones like a sickness.
He didn't call.
Didn't send his people.
He sat in the dark and waited.
Because she had asked for space.
Because she had asked for freedom.
Because he was terrified that if he pushed too hard, she would disappear for good.
---
"You're different," Marco said.
They were in the office. Damien was staring at reports he hadn't read.
"I'm tired."
"You're heartbroken."
Damien looked up.
"I'm not heartbroken."
"Then what are you?"
He was quiet for a moment.
"I'm waiting."
"For what?"
"For her to come back to me."
---
Marco sat down across from him.
"She's not going to come back."
"She always comes back."
"She comes back to the penthouse. Not to you." Marco leaned forward. "There's a difference."
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"I've known you for fifteen years. I've watched you build an empire. I've watched you destroy everyone who crossed you. And I've watched you fall apart because one woman won't wear your ring."
"She's not just any woman."
"No." Marco stood. "She's the woman who's going to destroy you."
---
That night, Christabel came home early.
Damien was in the living room. Reading. Waiting.
"You're home," he said.
"I'm tired."
"Of what?"
She sat down across from him.
"Of this."
"This what?"
"Us." She looked at him. "The way we are now. The way we've been for months."
"And how's that?"
"Distant." She put her hand on her stomach. The baby kicked. "We're having a baby, Damien. We're engaged. And I feel like I don't know you anymore."
"I'm the same person I've always been."
"No." She shook her head. "You're not. You're softer. Quieter. More careful. And I don't know how to be with someone who's careful."
"I'm careful because I love you."
"The man I fell in love with wasn't careful."
"The man you fell in love with didn't have a daughter to protect."
---
She stood.
Walked to the window.
"You keep saying that."
"Because it's true."
"Every time I try to talk to you about what's wrong, you bring up the baby. Like she's a shield."
"She's not a shield. She's a reason."
"A reason for what?"
"A reason to be better."
She turned to face him.
"What if I don't want better?"
---
The words hung in the air.
Damien stood.
Walked to her.
"What did you say?"
"You heard me." She looked up at him. Her eyes were dark. "What if I don't want you to be better? What if I want you to be exactly who you were? Dangerous. Unpredictable. Reckless."
"You want me to be reckless with our daughter's life?"
"I want you to be real." She touched his face. "I want you to stop pretending. I want you to stop holding back. I want you to be the man who took me from that gallery."
"That man is still here."
"Then let me see him."
---
He grabbed her.
Not hard. Not soft.
The way she remembered.
"This is what you want?" he asked.
"Yes."
"You want the monster?"
"Yes, Damien."
"He's here."
"Then stop hiding him."
He kissed her.
Hard. Deep. The way she remembered.
She kissed him back the same way.
But when he tried to carry her to the bedroom, she stopped him.
"No."
"No?"
"Not like this." She stepped back. "You're still holding back. I can feel it."
"I'm not."
"You are." She touched her stomach. "You're afraid of hurting her. I get it. But you're hurting me more by pretending."
"What do you want from me?"
"I want you to trust me." Her voice cracked. "I want you to trust that I know my own body. That I know what I can handle. That I'm not going to break."
"I don't think you're going to break."
"Then act like it."
---
He was quiet for a long moment.
The city hummed below them.
Somewhere in the building, a door opened and closed.
"I don't know how," he said finally.
"How to what?"
"To be the man you want and the father she needs."
She walked to him.
Took his hands.
"Maybe you don't have to choose."
"What do you mean?"
"Maybe the man I want is exactly the father she needs." She pressed his hands to her stomach. "Dangerous. Protective. Willing to burn the world for the people he loves."
"I would burn the world for her."
"I know." She looked at him. "That's why I love you."
---
He kissed her again.
Not gently.
The way she remembered.
And this time, when he carried her to the bedroom, she didn't stop him.