Damon’s silver-blue eyes seemed to pierce straight into her soul.
Ava turned her head slightly, putting a fraction more distance between them.
The contract sat on the coffee table.
Ava reached for the pen.
Her hand hovered over the signature line for only a heartbeat.
Then she pressed the tip down and signed her name in one clean, decisive stroke.
Ava Bennett.
No hesitation.
No second-guessing.
Damon watched the ink dry, and his chest eased.
He hadn’t realized how tense he’d been at the thought of her refusing the contract.
The relief almost embarrassed him.
Before he could say anything, Ava stood abruptly.
She leaned forward, closing the space between them, and pressed her lips to his.
It was brief.
Barely more than a whisper of contact.
A butterfly’s touch.
But Damon felt it like a shockwave.
His stomach didn’t just flutter—it felt like dolphins were breaching the surface of an ocean inside him.
He froze for half a second, wondering if he was imagining things.
It had been so long since he’d let any woman this close.
Maybe his body was playing tricks on him.
Ava had already stepped back.
Her face was calm, almost businesslike, as if the kiss had been nothing more than a seal on the contract.
She met his eyes.
“Alpha Damon,” she said quietly.
“I will honor this contract.”
Damon was still processing the kiss.
But outwardly, he kept his composure.
He nodded once.
“I trust you will, Miss Bennett.”
Ava blinked, suddenly aware that she’d let him into her apartment and hadn’t even offered him a drink.
She turned toward the kitchen.
“I should get you something.
Tea?
Water?”
“Water is fine.”
As she moved past him, Damon’s eyes caught the edge of something dark on her arm.
He reached out and gently grasped her wrist.
“Stop.”
“What—”
Damon pushed up the sleeve of her cardigan, revealing the bruises.
His jaw tightened.
“Who did this?”
“It’s nothing,” Ava said quickly, trying to pull her arm back.
“It’ll heal on its own.”
Damon’s grip didn’t loosen.
His voice dropped.
“Sit down.”
“Alpha Damon, I don’t need—”
“Sit.
Down.”
It wasn’t an Alpha command, but his voice was firm enough.
Ava sat back down on the sofa.
Damon went into her bathroom and returned with the first aid kit from under the sink.
He knelt in front of her, setting the kit on the coffee table and pulling out antiseptic and gauze.
“This is really unnecessary,” Ava protested.
“It’s just a bruise.
It’ll heal in a few days.”
Damon looked up at her, his silver-blue eyes intent.
“Ava.
Whether you need care or not, you’re my responsibility.”
He turned her arm gently.
Ava opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again.
The way he said it stopped her.
He dabbed antiseptic onto a cotton pad and pressed it to a scrape on her arm.
His hands were large, but his touch was careful.
“Does it hurt?” he asked.
“A little.”
Damon’s mouth tightened.
He wrapped the gauze around her arm and fixed it with medical tape.
When he finished, he didn’t let go right away.
His thumb brushed over the edge of the bandage, checking it one last time.
Ava looked down at him.
A strange warmth stirred in her chest.
She quietly slipped her hand from his and said softly, “Thank you.”
Damon hummed under his breath.
He stood and glanced around the small apartment.
“Pack your things,” he said.
“You’re moving into my place tonight.”
Ava blinked.
“Tonight?
Isn’t that a little fast?”
Damon turned to face her.
“It’s in the contract.
Shared living arrangements.
The sooner you move in, the better.”
Ava bit her lip.
He had a point.
And honestly, staying in this apartment felt suffocating now.
Every corner reminded her of Victor.
“All right,” she agreed.
Ava went into the bedroom, and Damon followed a moment later, leaning against the doorframe as she pulled a suitcase from the closet.
Ava opened her wardrobe and started pulling out clothes.
Damon glanced at the closet and stopped cold.
Near the back hung a man’s dress shirt.
Expensive.
Classic cut.
Damon walked over and pointed at it.
“His?”
Ava glanced up from folding a sweater.
“Hmm?
Oh.
Yeah.”
Damon’s expression didn’t change, but his voice took on a faintly disdainful edge.
“Terrible taste.”
Before Ava could respond, he lifted the shirt off the hanger, folded it neatly in half, and walked over to the trash can in the corner.
He held it over the trash can, then let go.
It landed with a soft thud.
Damon turned back to her.
“Luna Sterling,” he said, “you shouldn’t keep anything from your ex.”
Ava stared at him.
He was right.
She had already decided to move on.
But still, six years of her life had just been dropped into the trash like they meant nothing.
It wasn’t that she missed Victor.
It was just…
everything.
The good and the bad.
It had been real once.
Damon watched her for a moment, then stepped closer.
“Having second thoughts?”
“No.” Ava shook her head.
“It’s not that.
It’s just…
funny, I guess.”
“Funny how?”
“Funny that I really believed he loved me.” Ava’s laugh was soft and bitter.
“Turns out it was all smoke and mirrors.”
She turned back to her suitcase and kept folding.
Damon’s gaze shifted to the nightstand.
There, in a frame, was a photo of Ava and Victor.
Their arms around each other, both smiling.
Damon reached over and flipped the frame face-down with a quiet click.
“You don’t need to bring these either.”
Ava looked up.
Damon added flatly, “You’ve broken up.
All of this should go.”
Ava studied him for a moment.
His mouth was pressed into a tight line.
His brow was slightly furrowed.
He looked calm, but not happy.
A small warmth stirred in her chest.
“Alpha Damon,” she said softly.
“Hmm?”
“Are you…
angry?”
Damon glanced at her.
“No.”
Ava tilted her head.
“You are.”
Damon stared at her.
“If a husband finds another man’s things in his wife’s home, and knows that man once spent nights here…
wouldn’t it be strange if he wasn’t upset?”
Ava blinked.
Husband.
She’d barely signed the contract only minutes ago and he was already fully inhabiting the role.
But she didn’t want tension between them.
Not when they were about to live together.
She walked over to the nightstand, picked up the photo, and tore it cleanly in half.
“Victor is in the past,” she said, meeting Damon’s eyes.
“I’m not the kind of person who clings to what’s over.”
She dropped the torn pieces into the trash can.
Damon’s expression didn’t soften.
But his shoulders eased a little, and he gave a small nod.
An hour later, Damon’s car pulled up to a sprawling estate on the northern edge of the city.
Wrought-iron gates swung open automatically, and the car rolled up a long, tree-lined drive.
Ava’s breath caught.
The Sterling estate was enormous.
It was a modern mansion of glass and stone, surrounded by gardens and forest.
Lights glowed warmly in the windows, and the entire property radiated wealth and power.
“You live here?” Ava asked, unable to keep the awe out of her voice.
Damon parked the car and glanced at her.
“I travel a lot for pack business.
I don’t spend as much time here as I should.” He paused.
“But after we’re married, I’ll be home more often.”
Ava’s heart skipped.
Home more often.
That meant…
Damon looked at her, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth.
“Your room is on the second floor, next to mine.”
Ava looked away, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag.
Damon caught the movement.
“But don’t worry,” Damon added, his voice low and almost gentle.
“I won’t ask you to fulfill the physical intimacy terms right away.
Not until you’re ready.”