Elena's POV

I didn't bother knocking. I didn't care.

My heart was hammering so hard against my ribs I thought it might split. The closer I got to his door, the more the heat in my chest grew - a toxic mix of jealousy, betrayal, anger, and something worse:

Longing.

I walked straight in. No greeting. No hesitation.

Damian was in his living room, shirt halfway unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, as though he belonged to some magazine spread. He looked up, startled - but something else flickered in ...