75 An Unexpected Embrace
75 An Unexpected Embrace
Cora’s eyes darted between her mother and the door, her small features twisted with curiosity. “You’re quiet today, Mom,” she observed, swinging her legs from where she sat on the bathroom counter.
Elara worked the towel through Cora’s damp hair, her movements gentle but distracted. “Just tired, sweetheart.”
“Is it because of Grandma Eleanor’s party tomorrow?” Cora asked, tilting her head.
“Partly,” Elara admitted, though Eleanor’s birthday celebration was the least of her
concerns.
She finished drying Cora’s hair, dropping a kiss on her daughter’s crown, The familiar scent of children’s shampoo mingled with traces of Vivienne’s perfume that lingered despite the bath. The combination made her stomach twist.
“All done,” Elara announced, helping Cora down from the counter. “Ready for bed?”
Cora nodded, padding to her bedroom in her unicorn pajamas. Elara followed, watching as her daughter climbed into bed and snuggled under the covers.
“Will you stay?” Cora asked, patting the space beside her.
Elara hesitated. She’d spent previous visits at the manor sleeping in Cora’s room to avoid sharing a bed with Damien. But Eleanor had been watching them closely all evening, her hopeful glances impossible to miss.
“Not tonight, sweetheart,” Elara said softly. “Grandma Eleanor might check on you later, and she’ll want to see me in… the other room.”
Cora accepted this with a shrug, already reaching for her stuffed dolphin. “Okay. Night,
Mom.”
Elara kissed her forehead. “Goodnight, my love.”
She lingered at the doorway, watching Cora’s eyes grow heavy. When her daughter’s breathing slowed to the steady rhythm of sleep, Elara quietly pulled the door closed.
The hallway stretched before her, the master bedroom waiting at the end. She walked slowly, each step deliberate, preparing herself for another night of carefully
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75 An Unexpected Embrace
maintained distance from the man who was still legally her husband.
When she entered, Damien was sitting up in 1, laptop balanced on his thighs. The blue light from the screen cast shadows across his face, highlighting his sharp cheekbones. He glanced up briefly when she entered, then returned his attention to
his work without a word.
Elara moved quietly to the ensuite bathroom, closing the door behind her. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, noting the tired lines around her eyes. The woman looking back at her seemed like a stranger sometimes–so different from the hopeful bride she’d once been.
She went through her nightly routine methodically–washing her face, applying toner, serum, moisturizer. Each step performed with care, focusing on the task to avoid thinking about the man in the next room. When she finished, she changed into silk pajamas–modest but elegant. Armor of a different kind.
Returning to the bedroom, she found Damien in the same position, fingers moving rapidly over the keyboard. She slipped into her side of the bed, as far from the center as possible without falling off, and picked up her book from the nightstand.
The minutes ticked by in silence. Elara read the same paragraph three times without absorbing a word. Eventually, she gave up and set the book aside, switching off her lamp.
“Goodnight,” she said quietly, more out of habit than expectation of a response.
Damien made a noncommittal sound that might have been acknowledgment. Elara turned away from his light, curling onto her side.
She lay awake, listening to the soft tapping of keys. Would he leave once he thought she was asleep? Go to Vivienne, perhaps? The thought shouldn’t hurt anymore, but it did–a dull ache rather than the sharp stab it once was.
Eventually, the tapping stopped. She heard the soft click of the laptop closing, felt the shift of weight as Damien placed it on his nightstand. The light switched off, plunging the room into darkness.
The mattress dipped as he settled in. Elara remained perfectly still, carefully maintaining the invisible boundary between them. She’d grown accustomed to this dance–sharing a bed without sharing space.
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75 An Unexpected Embrace
Despite her racing thoughts, exhaustion eventually won out. Elara drifted to sleep, cocooned in the warmth of expensive sheets and the quiet hum of the manor’s heating
system:
She slept deeply, more comfortable than she expected. The bed was warm,
her position perfectly cozy. In her dreams, she was surrounded by comfort, held securely in a cocoon of safety.
When Elara first opened her eyes, the dawn was just breaking, casting soft gray light through the partially open curtains. She felt unusually warm and comfortable, more
rested than she’d been in months.
Then she registered the weight around her waist. The solid heat pressed against her back. The steady breath against her neck.
Elara froze, suddenly wide awake. Damien’s arm was draped heavily over her, his body curved around hers like a protective shell. His chest rose and fell against her back, his
face nestled in her hair.
How had this happened? They had started the night on opposite sides of the king–sized bed, a good two feet of mattress between them. Yet somehow, in sleep, they had gravitated toward each other–or rather, he had moved to her.
Elara’s mind raced. Was he dreaming of Vivienne? Did he think he was holding his lover instead of his estranged wife? The thought sent a sharp pain through her chest.
She needed to move, to extract herself before he woke and they faced the awkwardness of this unintended intimacy. Carefully, she tried to shift away from his
hold.
His arm tightened in response, pulling her closer. Elara’s breath caught in her throat. She tried again, more deliberately this time, attempting to lift his arm.
“Mmm,” Damien murmured, his voice thick with sleep. He shifted, pulling her more firmly against him.
Elara’s heart hammered in her chest. She could feel every inch where their bodies connected–his chest against her back, his legs tangled with hers, his arm heavy and secure around her waist. It had been so long since he’d held her like this. Years, maybe.
She should try again to move away. This wasn’t real–just some unconscious reaction, his body seeking warmth in the cool morning air. Yet she remained still, allowing
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herself just a moment to remember what it felt like to be held by him, to pretend that this embrace meant something.
The steady rhythm of his breathing changed subtly. Was he waking up? Elara held her breath, uncertain what would happen next.
Damien’s arm shifted, but instead of releasing her, he gathered her closer. His lips brushed against her forehead in the lightest of kisses–so gentle she might have imagined it.
“Just five more minutes,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against her skin.
Elara’s mind whirled with confusion. His words, his touch–they seemed intentional, not the unconscious actions of a sleeping man. But that couldn’t be right. Damien hadn’t shown her tenderness in years. Had never held her like this, even in the beginning.
She lay perfectly still in his arms, afraid to move, afraid to speak, afraid that whatever spell had been cast over this moment would break with the slightest disturbance. His embrace felt like a question she didn’t know how to answer.
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