Page 20 of My Masked Savior
Her eyes widen. “How did you?—”
“Lucky guess.”
“I saw him on Christmas Eve.” Her voice cracks. “At a gift shop. He touched me and I just... I ran.”
My grip tightens fractionally.
“Easy.” I keep my voice level. “You’re safe now.”
She nods, but her hand trembles in mine.
I understand it now—the constant vigilance, the panic attacks, the reason she fled two states away and never looked back. Marco isn’t just an abusive ex. He’s a ghost she’s been running from for five years.
“You did the right thing,” I tell her. “Getting out. Starting over.”
“It doesn’t feel right.” She pulls her hand back, wrapping both around her glass. “It feels like I’m still running.”
“Because he’s still there.”
“Yeah.”
I take a slow sip of whiskey, letting the moment settle. I need to be careful here. Can’t show the bloodlust simmering beneath my skin, the hunger to wrap my hands around Marco’s throat and squeeze until his eyes bulge.
“You deserve better than that.” I lean back, shifting gears. “Better than spending five years looking over your shoulder.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” I hold her gaze. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’ve let him win.”
Her jaw tightens. “That’s not fair.”
“Maybe not.” I shrug. “But it’s true.”
She drains the rest of her vodka, setting the glass down harder than necessary. Color rises in her cheeks—anger this time, not fear.
Good.
“Come back to my place.”
Morgan blinks. “What?”
“Let me show you how a real man treats a princess.” I keep my tone casual, like I’m suggesting we grab coffee. “No pressure. Just... something different than what you’ve known.”
Her lips part. “Damien?—”
“Yes or no, Morgan.”
I expect hesitation. A polite refusal. Maybe nervous laughter.
Instead, she says, “Okay.”
My pulse kicks up, heat flooding my veins as I process what just happened. She agreed. No games, no dancing around it.
Fuck.
I signal for the check, mind already racing ahead—the layout of my apartment, what she’ll see, what she can’t see. The locked room at the end of the hall flashes through my thoughts, but I push it aside. She won’t go there.
And beneath all that, darker and more insistent—Marco. How I’m going to make him suffer for touching her. For putting that fear in her eyes.
