Page 51 of My Ruthless Husband

As I take in the sight, a familiar feeling washes over me. The feeling of butterflies in my stomach whenever I think about him. Damian. It seems to conjure his presence. I can almost see him in the mannequin standing before me, stylish, with his sleeves rolled up that makes him look hot.

Before I know it, I’m walking over to it. My hand reaches out and I run my fingers across the fabric, imagining it’shimI’m touching. With a smile that tugs at my lips, I reach for my phone. It’s crazy how even a mannequin can remind me of him.

My fingers move quickly over the screen as I type out a message to him. But as I keep typing, something urges me to look up, and my heart skips a beat.

Damian.

I give my head a shake and stare.

He’s definitely Damian. And this time I’m not talking about the mannequin.

He ishere. He’s really here, just a few feet away, browsing through the shirts with focused expression. Shock courses through me; It’s as if the very image I’d conjured has come to life, standing before me.

It feels like fate, seeing him here. A rush of joy and surprise washes over me. This… him,here, makes our connection feel undeniably real—like something the universe wanted all along.

With a racing heart, I pocket my phone and tiptoe toward him, a smile forming on my lips. I have a chance to surprise him, to catch him off guard and I’m not about to let this opportunity slip away.

Quietly, I step closer to him, my steps light on the polished floor. He’s so engrossed in examining the shirts that he hasn’t noticed my presence yet, his brows furrowed in concentration.

The thought of having his eyes on me sends a delightful flutter to my stomach. I still can’t believe I had demanded him to see me again three days ago. How I had brazenly asked him to make time for me.

My heart pounded in my throat as I waited that day for his answer. He agreed, but only because I was his “only friend.” His words, not mine. I knew what he was doing—he was friend-zoning me. But I wasn’t fooled. I saw it in his eyes when he noticed me looking at Hal.

His words, his expressions, everything screamed he was into me. So I just have to be patient.

I was already counting down days, sulking to see him. But I can’t believe my luck. He is right there. In front of my eyes. Itisfate. A thrill courses through me as I prepare to unveil myself.

With a mischievous smile, I stand beside him, my gaze focused on the shirts as well. Then, in a playful tone, I break the silence. “That black shirt has caught your eye, hasn’t it?”

His head snaps in my direction. Surprise flashes across his features. “River?”

I nod enthusiastically. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were stalking me.”

His eyes flicker before settling into an unreadable mask. His gaze returns to the shirts. “You wish.”

“I truly do.” I say and chuckle at his drawled expression. “What are you doing here anyway?”

He motions to his black shirt which appears to be a bit damp. “Spilled coffee.”

“Oh.” I nod. “But it doesn’t matter though because of the dark color.”

That earns me a sidelong glance.

I chuckle. “So, where’s Hal?”

“Here, Ma’am,” a voice from behind startles me so much I lose my balance. Before I can hit the ground, I find myself in Damian’s arms.

Still holding me against him, he glares at Hal. “She could’ve gotten hurt.”

Hal stares at me apologetically. “Forgive me, Ms. Gibson.”

“It’s okay,” I squeak. Then I stare up at Damian. His nearness sends a jolt through me. “He’s always with you.”

He nods.

“Lucky him,” I mumble under my breath.

“What was that?”

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