Amidst the glittering stars and the dark secrets of high society, Aurora and Damon find themselves intertwined by an unpredictable destiny. In the heat of passion and jealousy, their souls are drawn into a game of power and desire, where past and pr...
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The bustling sounds of New York City outside my window drew me out of bed, and I eagerly began preparing for what promised to be a special day.
Damon had invited me to go out alone, a proposal I accepted with enthusiasm since, in the past, our outings had always been with the entire family. This invitation felt personal and meaningful, offering a chance to get to know him better and explore New York in a more intimate way.
I chose a white cotton dress with a touch of elegance, perfect for the pleasant weather and the fashion museum Damon had suggested. I knew he was a reserved person who usually kept his interests to himself, so I was curious to see how he would behave outside the family environment.
Descending for breakfast, I found Damon already waiting in the living room. He was dressed in a simple black coat and dark jeans, his presence always imposing even in his apparent simplicity.
"Aurora," Damon said in a neutral tone, his voice cold and controlled. "Are you ready for the outing?"
"Good morning, Damon!" I replied with a smile. "Yes, I'm ready."
"Coffee," he said simply, turning towards the kitchen and making a nearly imperceptible gesture for me to follow.
A man of few words, I'd say.
Damon took a seat at the table, his posture rigid and his hands resting in front of him, as if in constant vigilance. His gaze didn't waver from me, and I felt a mix of discomfort and curiosity.
When Ana, the housekeeper, brought in the tray with coffee and croissants, Damon glanced at her briefly. "Thank you," he said, his tone dry and direct. There was no room for further conversation.
I sat at the table across from Damon, his presence marking the meal with an air of control. He poured the coffee in silence, his actions precise and calculated.
"Don't you usually eat this early?" he asked in an almost clinical tone.
"Not really. I woke up early for the outing," I replied, trying to initiate a conversation to ease the tension.
Damon merely nodded, keeping his gaze fixed on me.
Throughout the meal, he was considerate enough not to stare too intensely, and I silently thanked him for that. I quickly ate the croissants, which were good, though I missed the ones from Paris.
When I finished, Damon stood up and came towards me to guide me to the exit where his car was parked.
He placed a hand on my waist as we arrived, opening the car door for me with a courtesy that combined formality with a controlled ease. I got in and settled into the passenger seat, while Damon closed the door with a soft click and went around to the driver's side. The sound of the door closing echoed in the vehicle's silence.
As Damon started the car and we began our drive, a comfortable silence enveloped the space. The hum of the engine and the gentle rhythm of the tires against the asphalt were the only sounds filling the space. While Damon drove with his usual precision, I watched the city unfold outside the window, its busy streets and the characteristic energy of Manhattan starting to awaken.
