Ava let out a slow breath.
Even with the contract signed, she wasn’t ready to sleep with him on the first night.
Damon gestured toward the entrance, and she followed him inside.
A staff member came forward and took her luggage.
A woman in her forties stepped forward next.
“Luna, please follow me.
I’ll show you to your room.”
The title still sounded strange, but Ava nodded and followed her upstairs.
The estate was quiet and spacious, with polished wood floors and soft lights along the walls.
When the woman opened the door to the main bedroom, Ava stopped in the doorway.
The room was beautiful.
Everything was tasteful, elegant, and—
And exactly her style.
Ava blinked and looked around the room.
The furniture, the pillows, even the soft blanket at the foot of the bed…
everything felt like it had been chosen for her.
The staff member gestured toward a door on the left.
“The walk-in closet is through there, Luna.”
Ava walked over.
The closet was huge.
Clothes hung in neat rows.
Casual wear.
Work clothes.
Day dresses.
Evening gowns.
The drawers held underwear, accessories, scarves, and belts.
Everything was new.
Everything was her size.
The woman smiled gently.
“Alpha Damon arranged everything himself.
He wanted to make sure you had everything you needed.
If there’s anything else you’d like, just let me know, and I’ll have it brought in right away.”
How did he know?
Ava shook her head slowly.
“No.
This is…
more than enough.
Thank you.”
The woman bowed her head and left, closing the door behind her.
Ava stood alone in the closet for a moment.
Then she glanced down at the small suitcase she’d brought from her apartment.
It suddenly looked out of place.
She had packed a few sweaters, some jeans, and a couple of dresses.
Things she thought she would need.
But now, standing here, none of it seemed necessary.
Still, Ava decided to unpack.
It would make moving in feel real.
She hung up her clothes one by one.
Near the end of the closet, she found a section that clearly belonged to Damon.
A row of dress shirts hung there.
Crisp.
Perfectly pressed.
And one of them…
Ava reached out and pulled the shirt off the hanger, holding it up.
It was the exact same style as the one Damon had thrown into the trash back at her apartment.
Same cut.
Same brand.
Ava’s lips twitched.
“Already helping your husband organize his wardrobe?”
Ava spun around.
Damon was leaning casually against the doorframe, his silver-blue eyes bright with amusement.
Ava recovered quickly and held up the shirt with a small smile.
“Kind of.
After all, they say behind every successful, well-dressed man is a thoughtful wife…
helping him fix his terrible taste in clothes.”
Damon’s lips curved into a faint smirk.
He recognized the shirt, but he didn’t look the least bit ashamed.
He straightened and walked into the room.
Without a word, he began unbuttoning his shirt.
Ava’s eyes widened.
The shirt opened, showing broad shoulders and a solid chest.
Damon shrugged the shirt off and draped it over the back of a chair.
Ava took a step back, her cheeks warming.
“Alpha Damon, what are you…”
Damon held out his hand.
“The shirt.”
Ava blinked.
“What?”
“The one you’re holding.
Give it to me.”
Still flustered, Ava handed it over.
As Damon took it from her, his fingers brushed hers, and she went still.
Damon pulled the shirt on, buttoning it slowly.
His eyes stayed on her.
When he was finished, he adjusted the collar and rolled up the sleeves to his forearms.
The shirt fit him perfectly.
It looked completely different on him than it had on Victor—sharper, more commanding.
More…
devastatingly attractive.
Ava forgot to look away.
Damon noticed.
His smirk deepened.
“Even terrible taste looks good on the right model, don’t you think?”
Ava could only nod dumbly.
Damon stepped closer.
Before she could move, he caught her wrist, gentle but firm.
“If watching me change a shirt makes you this nervous,” Damon murmured, his voice low and teasing, “how are you going to handle living with me?”
Ava’s face burned.
“It was sudden.
If I started undressing in front of you, wouldn’t you be nervous too?”
Damon’s eyes stayed on hers.
“No.
I’d look forward to it.”
Ava had no answer to that.
Damon took her hand and placed it flat against his chest, right over his heart.
His heartbeat was steady.
“I’m very comfortable being your husband, Ava,” Damon said quietly, his gaze intense.
Ava’s pulse hammered in her ears.
Her mouth felt dry.
She could feel the heat radiating from his body.
“So, Ava,” he murmured, “you should start getting comfortable with your role as my wife, too.”
Ava’s heart was still racing from the feel of Damon’s chest under her palm.
His warmth, his steady heartbeat, the way he had stood so close…
it all left her unsteady.
She needed to pull herself together.
This was a contract.
Nothing more.
Ava took a slow breath and stepped back, putting distance between them.
“I’ll fulfill my role as your wife and Luna according to the contract, Alpha Damon.”
The word “contract” changed Damon’s expression.
His brows drew together.
Irritation cut through him, sharp and sudden.
He had been the one to propose this arrangement, so he had no right to be angry.
Still, he didn’t like hearing her turn it back into a business deal.
Damon released her wrist and stepped back, his face smoothing into an unreadable mask.
“Good,” he said evenly.
“Then finish unpacking and get some rest.
We have things to take care of tomorrow.”
Without another word, he turned and left the room.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Only then did Ava realize he had left the master bedroom for her.
She stood there for a moment, looking at the closed door.
Then she finished unpacking, changed, and climbed into the wide, unfamiliar bed.
Sleep came late.
By morning, sunlight was slipping through the curtains.
For a moment, she forgot where she was.
Then the events of the previous night came back.
She was about to marry Damon Sterling.
Ava sat up and rubbed her face.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.
It was a message from Damon.
“Be ready by nine.
We have an appointment.”