Page 212 of Damián

“Everything?” I shrug, and his brow arches. “I don’t know! Tae looked at me like I was actively dying, so I just agreed to it.”

Damián’s lips twitch into a smile. He leans forward, hooking both arms around my waist, and pulls me down into his lap.

“Do you feel like you’re dying?” he asks, his hands sliding under my shirt and caressing my back.

“Not anymore.”

“Good.” He moves his hand, his fingers trailing the tape that’s holding the IV in place. “Would it be okay if I remove it?”

“Does it get in the way?”

“Entirely.”

“Please remove it, Dami.”

Damián presses a quick kiss to my cheek, and I curl my legs around his waist as he lifts me up, grabbing my IV bag with his free hand before carrying me over to the kitchen counter.

“Wait here,” he says, disappearing down a short hallway.

While I wait for him to come back, I finally have the time and space to actually pay attention to where I am. The apartment is incredibly cozy, and nothing like the cold, uncomfortable penthouse he used for his cover. Here, the lighting is warm, the furniture is comfortable and inviting, and the walls are lined with shelves full of books, records, and pictures.

Or rather… family pictures.

I see María, Fernanda, and Carlitos in most of the frames. There are also pictures of a handsome older man who looks just like Damián, and plenty of shots of the Harknett team.

Oh, my God… is this Damián’s real place?!

“See anything you like?” Damián asks, coming back carrying a first-aid box under his arm.

“Is this… your actual place?”

“Yes.” Damián stretches my arm and presses a cotton ball over the IV. “Do you like it?”

“I love it.”

“Small sting,” he says, and I flinch as he removes the IV and places medical tape over the cotton ball. “Good?”

I move my arm, bend and stretch the elbow, and even though it feels a bit tender, I feel greater than ever.

“It’s perfect,” I tell him.

Damián moves between my legs and pulls me closer.

“Can I look around your apartment?”

“You mean our apartment?”

“Our?”

Damián taps his fingertip over my engagement ring. “If you want to, it’s ours.”

“Then, can I look around our apartment?” I ask, and he smiles.

With a soft kiss, Damián curls his arms around my waist and lifts me down from the counter.

“Feel free to look anywhere you want.” He moves away so I can pass, and I swear I feel like a kid in Disneyland.

…Not that I ever went to Disney while I was a kid, but when I was twenty-one, I went with Zara, and it was freaking amazing.