Trading My Ex for His Uncle

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With a final scornful look, Nathaniel strode away.

Rebecca stared at his back, her eyes burning with hatred. He despised her, but she felt no less resentment toward him.

Every day she endured his torment, desperate to escape this life. If she could go back, she'd never have let Nathaniel into her life.

When Nathaniel returned to his study, he immediately called Damon to recount everything Rebecca had just told him.

"Sounds like Drake might not have any ill intentions toward Nyla," he ventured.

Damon tapped rhythmically on his desk, his eyes cast down. "Thanks, but this doesn't really add up to what I need."

Nathaniel knew Rebecca's vague answers were hardly useful, so he said, "I wasn't planning to get anything out of this. I'll get Rebecca to reach out to Drake again, see if we can dig deeper. Then we'll talk."

"Sure," Damon answered.

Damon hung up and set his phone down, a cold glint in his eyes. He only wanted peace with Nyla, yet trouble seemed to find them again and again. If that were the case, he'd just have to eliminate each disturbance as it arose.

It was nearly midnight by the time Damon returned to the bedroom.

Nyla was sitting up with a book, her face calm and serene in the soft lamplight. Hearing the door, she looked up with a gentle smile.

"Work all done?" she asked.

Damon nodded. "Mm. Why're you still up?"

"I was waiting for you," she replied.

Warmth filled Damon's heart. "Next time, don't wait. If I'm working too late, I'll sleep in the study."

Nyla ignored his comment, and her voice remained soft as she urged, "Go shower. You must be tired."

"All right," Damon answered.

He grabbed a set of pajamas and headed into the bathroom.

As the shower ran, Nyla closed her book, placing it on the nightstand. She reached for her phone, playing a quick game to pass the time. Soon, the water stopped, and Damon emerged in his pajamas, toweling his damp hair. Once he was done, he climbed into bed.

As the bed sank with his weight and the scent of his after-shower lingered, the air felt damp.

Nyla reached for Damon's hair and found it only half-dried. She offered, "Let me dry your hair. It's cold, and

you might catch some ove

Damon usually let his short hair air-dry, but seeing the concern in Nyla's eyes, his gaze softened. "All right."

Nyla retrieved the hairdryer and motioned for Damon to sit in front of her. "Come here."

As she gently ran her fingers through his hair, the hairdryer buzzed quietly between them.

The only sound in the room was the warm rush of air, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a cozy light over them.

Nyla's fingers brushed Damon's ear

ё

occasionally, sending a slight shiver

down his spine. His gaze locked

onto her, a sudden intensity flickering in his eyes.

Caught by the heat in Damon's gaze, Nyla felt a blush creep up her cheeks, her fingers momentarily stiffening around the hairdryer.

She bit her lip, a simple movement that seemed to enflame the air between them.

Damon's eyes darkened. Nyla's lips

slightly pale but now tinged with

pink from her own bite, appeared as tempting as a blooming rose. It was impossible to resist.

Without another thought, his hand slipped around her waist, pulling her into his embrace.