I blink the moisture from my eyes and reach forward to pick up a bottle of water from the table. Damien reaches for it at the same time and our hands touch. A spark of heat rushes through me and I forget to breathe. Our eyes clash and desire simmers in his grey gaze. Inhaling sharply, I move my hand and he offers the bottle to me. His eyes follow my every movement as I unscrew the cap on the bottle and drink from it. We stare at each other for several moments in silence, the air between us thickening with every second that passes.

Finally, he clears his throat and switches on the TV. The news channel comes on and there’s a discussion going on about the crime rate in London. His name comes up and Damien stiffens beside me. The presenters talk about him—the shooting he was involved in, his memory loss and his life prior to that.

I touch his arm. “You can turn that off, you know. We don’t need to watch it.”

He switches off the television and rubs the back of his neck.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.

He clucks his tongue. “There’s nothing I can say except that I’m lucky to be alive.”

He stands up. “Come. Let me show you to your room.”

I collect my handbag and pick up my boots in my hand and follow him barefoot. He escorts me to one of the guest bedrooms on the upper floor of the house.

“I hope this is fine,” he splays his hand out. His tone sounds flat, the shutters drawn over his eyes. All the warmth that we had shared only minutes earlier is now gone.

I drop the boots by the bed and survey the simple but tastefully done room. It’s all stark white and dark wood. I turn to him. “It’s lovely. Thank you.”

Damien nods. “Dinner will be at seven and I’ll send Mrs. Perkins to help you settle in,” he informs me, before leaving me alone.

Why would I need help from Mrs. Perkins? I frown as the door closes behind him. We may be stranded here for a day, maybe two until the storm subsides, and I have no luggage.

I extend my arms up in the air, stretching my tired muscles and look around the pristine room. It looks unlived and there are no personal effects whatsoever. My eyes land on the balcony adjoining the room. I open it to step outside and immediately wrap my arms around myself against the freezing wind. Thick clouds roar in the distance and visibility is almost nil now. Powder soft snowflakes fall on my face and hair as I lean against the railing. A laugh escapes my lips. This is so divine!

The ring of my cell phone draws me back inside and I grin on seeing my mom’s face on the video chat.