The Forced Marriage: The Journey Begins

Chapter Twenty-Seven

As the clock tick 7 at the evening Damien walked out of his room. The hallway was empty, the only sound the distant hum of the cleaning crew's vacuum.

Sarah sat on the floor by the elevator, her leg stretched out in front of her. She was trying to tie her shoe laces, but the pain from her injured knee made it difficult.

Damien saw her and his footsteps quickened. "Miss Harris," he called out, his voice echoing in the deserted space.

Sarah looked up, her face a mask of pain. "Mr. Ross," she said, her voice strained.

"What happened?" Damien asked, his concern etched in his features.

Sarah winced as she attempted to stand, her leg giving out beneath her. "It's nothing," she lied, trying to brush it off. But the pain was too much, and she had to lean against the wall for support.

Damien's expression grew concerned. "Let me help," he offered, reaching out a hand.

Sarah hesitated for a moment before taking it, feeling the warmth of his touch. He helped her to her feet, his grip firm but gentle.

"Thank you," she murmured, trying to ignore the flutter in her stomach.

He led her to his car, the sleek black sedan gleaming under the flickering fluorescent lights of the garage. She slid into the plush passenger seat, the cool leather a stark contrast to the heat of her skin.

Damien bent over her, his hand reaching into the back seat to retrieve a first aid kit. His aftershave filled the space between them, a heady scent that made her heart race.

As he knelt before her, his eyes focused on her knee, she felt a strange intimacy in the gesture.He gently lifted the fabric of her pant, exposing the bruised skin. His touch was feather-light, his eyes never leaving her face as he cleaned the scrape with a wet wipe.

Sarah bit her lip to keep from gasping at the sudden sensation of coldness against the heat of her injury.

Damien applied a band-aid with surprising tenderness, his thumb brushing against her knee in a way that made her nervous."Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

Damien's eyes searched hers for a moment before he nodded. He sat back on his heels, his hand lingering on her knee for a beat longer than necessary before retreating.

Sarah felt the warmth of his touch linger, a phantom pressure that made her skin tingle.

The car ride was tense, the silence between them filled with unspoken questions. Sarah couldn't help but steal glances at him as he drove, his strong profile lit by the passing streetlights.

The quiet was broken only by the sound of the wipers swiping rhythmically across the windshield.
She was overwhelmed by the kind gesture Damien had shown to her. It was fully alien feeling for her as nobody was this kind to her in a long time.

Sarah felt a lump form in her throat as the image of Wilson's twisted smile crept into her mind. The stark contrast between the monster she called a husband and the kindness of her boss was a stark reminder of the life she'd been forced into. A single tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly brushed it away, not wanting to burden Damien with her personal struggles.

Damien noticed her distress and offered a handkerchief without a word. His silence was comforting, giving her the space she needed to compose herself.

She took it gratefully, dabbing at her eyes and trying to push the thoughts of her husband away.The rest of the drive was a blur, the rain outside mirroring her tumultuous emotions.

When they arrived at her place, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for everything, Mr. Ross," she said, her eyes downcast.

Damien's expression was unreadable as he nodded and drove away once Sarah went inside the mansion feeling overwhelmed with emotions.