Chapter 27
Apr 30, 2025
Miranda’s POV
The scent of fresh flowers tickled my nose before I even opened my eyes.
I blinked awake slowly, sunlight pouring in through the curtains, warm and golden. I frowned, confused by the unfamiliar floral aroma drifting through the room.
Then I saw the roses. Deep red, lush, and delicate, sitting right on the nightstand in a crystal vase I didn’t own.
What the…?
I pushed myself upright, my heart already doing that thing it did when something strange but pleasant happened, half panic, half awe. There was a little card tucked between the petals, and I leaned forward to read it.
No words. Just my name in Damon’s handwriting. Clean. Bold. Unmistakable.
“Seriously?” I muttered aloud.
Before I could even fully process it, my phone buzzed next to the vase. I grabbed it.
Damon.
I stared at the screen like it had personally offended me, then hesitantly answered.
“Hello?”
“I miss you.”
His voice was low, slightly rough, like he hadn’t had his morning coffee yet. Or maybe he had. Maybe he just sounded like that when he said something raw.
“You… miss me?” I echoed, as my heart fluttered and I was trying not to sound like I’d just been told aliens had landed outside.
He chuckled. “Yeah. That’s what I said.”
I hesitated. My fingers tangled in the edge of my bedsheet. “Okay.”
There was a pause.
And then the line went dead.
“What?” I stared at my phone. “Did he just—?”
A knock rattled my door three minutes later.
No. Way.
I yanked on a robe, bolted across the apartment, and flung open the door, already fully prepared to throw something at him for playing whatever twisted game this was.
Damon stood there, still in his blazer and slacks from last night, like he hadn’t even bothered to sleep. His hair was a mess. He looked… tired. Raw. Real.
“I said I miss you,” he said, brushing past me and into the apartment like he owned it. “You said okay. What does that even mean, Miranda?”
“You can’t just hang up and then show up here. What is this?”
“What does okay mean?” he repeated, turning to face me with a frustrated frown. “I said something vulnerable, and you hit me with the verbal equivalent of a shrug. Seriously?”
“I didn’t know what to say!” I shot back, my voice rising. “You’re always confusing. Hot one second, ice-cold the next. I didn’t expect you to say something like that.”
“Well, I said it.” He closed the distance between us, stopping just inches from me. “I said I missed you, because I do. You’re in my head all the time. At work. At home. Even in my sleep. It’s annoying.”
My throat tightened. “You think I’m not confused? I’ve spent months trying to figure out what the hell you want from me.”
He looked away briefly, jaw clenched. “I want to know if you could ever love me.”
The silence hit like thunder.
“What?”
“You heard me.” His gaze was steady now. Soft, but firm. “Could you ever love me, Miranda?”
I stared at him. My fingers gripped the edge of my robe like it could anchor me to the floor. “I… I don’t know.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”
I didn’t want to say it. I didn’t want to speak it out loud and feel stupid afterward. But there was no way around it. He was being honest. The least I could do was meet him halfway.
“Because…” I swallowed. “You’re a womanizer. You flirt. You touch. You’ve always got some woman clinging to your arm. How could I ever believe I’d be different?”
He laughed.
I wanted to punch him.
“You think I’m a womanizer?” he asked, smirking.
I glared. “Don’t act like you’re not. Everyone knows it. I’ve seen it.”
Damon leaned back slightly, crossing his arms. “Funny thing. I haven’t had sex with anyone else in two years.”
That shut me up.
“What?” I breathed.
He shrugged. “Yeah. Two years. Except you.”
“That’s… not possible.”
“It is,” he said simply. “And before you ask, no, I didn’t do it for some noble reason. I just didn’t want to. No one else caught my attention. Except you.”
My knees felt like they were made of fog.
“Why?” I whispered. “Why me?”
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Maybe because you didn’t fawn over me like everyone else. Maybe because you challenged me. Maybe because, even when I acted like a jerk, you never treated me like a god. You just… saw me.”
I blinked rapidly, forcing down the emotion rising in my throat.
“Damon…”
He stepped closer, voice dropping low. “I love you, Miranda.”
The room spun.
I was rooted to the floor, arms frozen, lips parted in shock.
“I love you,” he repeated, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind my ear. “You don’t have to say anything. I just needed you to hear it.”
But I couldn’t stay silent anymore.
I shook my head, tears already forming.
He looked concerned. “Are you crying?”
I laughed through the ache in my chest. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
I covered my mouth, but the words came out anyway. “Because I liked you too. I liked you and I tried to pretend I didn’t. You were this unreachable, cold, gorgeous boss with zero emotion. But I couldn’t help it. I had this stupid, massive crush on you and thought I was being so clever, hiding it.”
His eyes widened. “You… had a crush on me?”
He took my face in his hands gently. “Do you think you could love me?”
I stared at him, heart thudding.
I didn’t say a word. I just nodded.
That was all it took.
His lips were on mine before I could take another breath. The kiss was soft at first, exploratory, like we were both afraid we’d break the moment if we moved too fast.
But then I wrapped my arms around his neck, and it deepened, turned urgent, desperate, real.
We kissed like we were both afraid it would be our only chance.
