The doctor went on.
“You two make a lovely pair.”
A faint flush crept up Damon’s neck.
Something warm and unfamiliar stirred in his chest, like the first crack of ice on a frozen lake.
He looked back at the doctor.
“Thank you.”
The doctor rattled off a few more instructions, then left with the nurse.
Ava stared at her laptop screen.
Not a single word registered.
Damon closed his eyes again, but inside, satisfaction ran through him like a low, steady current.
He liked it.
The way she’d claimed him.
The way she’d said wife without hesitation, as if the word belonged to her.
An hour later, Ava saved her file and leaned back, scrolling through the final version.
She’d triple-checked the layouts, the data, the transitions.
Everything looked solid.
And yet her brow furrowed.
Damon noticed.
“What’s wrong?”
She glanced up, startled.
“I thought you were asleep.”
“I was resting.
Not the same thing.” He shifted, careful of the IV.
“You’ve been frowning at that screen for five minutes.
What is it?”
Ava hesitated, then sighed.
“It’s just… this is my first time leading an overseas presentation.
I’ve gone over it a dozen times, and I’m still nervous.”
Damon studied her.
“Run through it with me.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“Your presentation.
Walk me through it.
If I can follow it, your client sure as hell will.
And I might catch something you missed.”
“You just had surgery.
You should be resting, not—”
“Ava.” Quiet, but firm.
“If you could pitch a design concept to an Alpha King without breaking a sweat.
You think a room full of department heads is going to rattle you?”
She opened her mouth to argue, then stopped.
He had a point.
“Alright.” She grabbed her laptop and moved to the edge of his bed, angling the screen toward him.
“But if you start feeling worse, we stop.
Deal?”
“Deal.”
She pulled up the first slide and began.
Damon listened closely, his eyes tracking every diagram, every line.
Ava’s voice steadied as she moved through the sections.
Site analysis, design philosophy, structural integration, sustainability benchmarks.
She knew this material inside out, and her confidence bled through with every word.
When she finished, she looked at him.
“So… what do you think?”
Damon was quiet a beat.
Then he leaned forward slightly.
“Slide eight.
The load-bearing framework.
Your terms are accurate, but they’ll lose half the room.
Simplify the language without dumbing it down.”
Ava scrolled back.
He was right.
She’d been so focused on precision she’d sacrificed clarity.
“And slide twelve.
The cost-benefit comparison.
The numbers are solid, but the layout’s cluttered.
Split it into two.
Give each point room to breathe.”
Ava was already typing.
“Oh my God, you’re right.
I can’t believe I missed that.”
She reworked the phrasing, split the slides, smoothed the flow.
When she looked up, her eyes were bright.
“With your input, I’m going to nail this tomorrow.”
Damon didn’t answer.
He just watched her.
Ava turned back to her screen and kept polishing, tightening a transition here, a caption there.
When she finally glanced up to thank him, his eyes were closed, his breathing slow and even.
Asleep.
She checked the clock.
Nearly ten.
She should go.
Back to the villa, one last run-through, some sleep before tomorrow.
Moving quietly, she saved her work, packed up her laptop, and stood.
The moment she rose, his eyes opened.
“Leaving?”
His voice was low, rough with drowsiness.
Ava nodded, clutching the strap of her bag.
“I have an early presentation.
I need to rest.
So do you.”
Damon looked at her a long moment, like he wanted to say something.
Then he let it go.
But his eyes never left her.
She made it to the door, hand on the handle, when she glanced back.
He was still watching her.
Lying there alone in the quiet room, pale and still, he looked… smaller.
Nothing like the Alpha King who commanded empires with a single call.
And something cracked in her chest.
He was her husband.
She was his wife.
Wasn’t staying part of that?
Part of the contract they’d signed?
She let go of the handle.
“Actually…” She turned back.
“I think I’ll stay tonight.
In case you need something and the nurses take too long.”
Damon’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered behind his eyes.
“There’s a bedroom through that door.
This is a VIP suite.
Sterling Holdings holds a stake in the hospital, so the whole floor is ours.
You’ll be comfortable.”
Ava bit the inside of her cheek, then walked back and set her bag down.
“Then I’ll stay.”
Damon’s mouth twitched, but he smoothed it out before she could catch it.
“Alright.”
Through the side door, Ava found the bedroom.
It looked more like a hotel than a hospital, a wide bed with crisp white linens, a plush armchair, a full bathroom.
She washed her face and changed into the oversized shirt she kept in her bag for emergencies.
But sleep wouldn’t come.
She lay there a while, then gave up, pulled the spare blanket around her shoulders, and went back into Damon’s room.
Damon was still awake, lying on his side, facing her way.
She settled onto the wide sofa beside his bed, close enough to hear him breathe, close enough to reach him if something went wrong.
Damon caught the moment she drew near, the faint scent of her shampoo drifting through the dim room.
The lights were dimmed.
The room was silent but for the faint hum of the monitors.
Ava lay on her back, staring at the ceiling.
Sleep still felt far away.
She turned onto her side, facing him.
His eyes were closed, but she had a feeling he wasn’t asleep either.
“Alpha Damon?”
“Mm?” His eyes opened at once.
So he was awake.
Ava hesitated, then pushed the words out before she could second-guess herself.
“The doctor told you to rest after surgery.
Flying all the way to Paris right after… was it really just to clear up a misunderstanding with me?”
The words lingered between them.
God, that sounded self-centered.
Maybe he had urgent business here.
Maybe she was reading too much into it.
But Damon didn’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
Simple.
Final.
Ava’s breath caught.
He’d flown halfway across the world, fresh out of surgery, risking infection, just to make sure she knew the truth.
That was… a lot.
Her chest felt tight.
She didn’t know what to say.
Then Damon hissed sharply, his jaw tightening.
Ava shot upright.
“What’s wrong?
Is it the wound?
Should I call the doctor?”
“No.” His voice was strained.
“The painkiller’s probably wearing off.”
“There should be more at the nurses’ station.
I’ll go—”
“There’s another way.”
She froze, looking at him.
His gaze was dark, unreadable in the low light.
“The doctor mentioned it.
When the pain gets bad, certain activities that trigger a dopamine release can help manage it.”
Ava frowned.
“Like what?”
Damon’s eyes drifted down, slow and deliberate, from her eyes to her lips.
“Like kissing.”