Chapter Seven
Aurelia’s POV
I sat by the window, staring at the mountain of gift boxes before me, an inexplicable unease rising in my chest.
Limited edition Chanel handbags. Cartier diamond necklaces. Hermès scarves… Each one worth a fortune. Each one a reminder of the absurdity
of this transaction.
A knock at the door. Another maid entered with yet another gift box.
“Miss Fairmont, today’s gift. She carefully placed the box on the table. “The young master has instructed that whatever you desire, he will
provide.
I shot to my feet. “Enough!”
The maid jumped, nearly dropping the box.
“Tell me,” I looked straight into her eyes, “where exactly is your young master? I’ve been here ten days and haven’t seen a shadow of him!”
“This…” the maid stammered. “The young master… his health isn’t very convenient…”
“Not convenient?” I laughed coldly, striding toward the door. “I don’t care what he looks like–I won’t be disgusted. But if he doesn’t even have the courage to face his wife, I’d rather go back to living on the streets than marry a coward!”
“Miss! You can’t-” The maid tried to stop me.
I pushed past her and walked straight out. The long corridor was carpeted with thick Persian rugs, the walls hung with priceless paintings- everything screaming wealth and status. But all this opulence meant nothing to me.
“Young master! You can’t come out!” The maid’s panicked cry came from behind me.
I turned around and froze completely.
At the end of the hallway, a tall figure slowly approached. He wore a deep blue shirt, his frame lean and graceful, his features as handsome as a Greek sculpture. Sunlight streamed in behind him, gilding his silhouette in gold.
This was the supposedly hideous, disabled Damien Ravencroft?
“You…” I stammered. “You’re supposed to be…“.
“A hideous monster? A bitter smile touched his lips, his voice deep and magnetic.
Just then, an elegant female voice called from the staircase. “Actually, Damien isn’t sick at all.”
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over and stand in front of him. “You scum! What kind of men pick on someone younger than them?
Eventually the boys slunk away. I turned to the chubby kid, who was leading at ma timidly,
“What’s your name?” I asked gently.
“Damien…” The voice was barely audible,
‘Damien, remember this–you’re special. Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not good enough. I patted his shoulder. “Someday, you’ll make everyone who looked down on you eat their words.
“That person, was you? I stared wide–eyed at the handsome man before me, hardly believing it.
Damien nodded, his eyes glistening, “It was me. That day, you appeared in my world like an angel. You saved me. Cave me hope and light.”
“After that, I thought about you every day, I swore I’d become better, become worthy of you. I lost weight, worked out, studied hard- transformed myself into who I am now?
Elena picked up the story. “So when we learned of your situation, we immediately contacted your stepmother Genevieve. We let the outside world think Damien was ill, so no one would suspect.
My head was spinning. “So… all of this was…”
“All to save you,” Damien stepped closer, his gaze intense and devoted. “Aurelia, I know you suffered terribly with Blackthorne. Let me spend my life treating you right. Giving you a real home. Will you let me?”
Home.
That word pierced my heart like a needle. I thought of Genevieve’s coldness, Kieran’s betrayal, the years without warmth.
Tears slipped down my face unbidden.
Home?” My voice caught. “I haven’t had a home in so, so long…”
The Mafia’s Secret Captive
Damien reached out, gently cupping my face, wiping away the tears. Then from now on, this is your home.”
I looked into his sincere eyes, tow Elena’s loving smile, and felt something long–frozen inside me begin to thaw.
“Okay I took his hand. This is my home.”
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
