Remi Crawford finally felt the brain fog lift as she woke up. She stretched lazily, only to freeze mid-motion.

"Ow!"

Why did her back feel so stiff and agonizingly sore? She slowly lowered her arms, desperately trying to retrace the events of last night. All she could recall was Damian Spencer giving her a bath, and then… a total blackout. Did that absolute jerk pull some sneaky, predatory business while she was wasted?

With a dark look, she glared at the man sleeping soundly beside her and gave him a sharp kick.

Damian’s eyes fluttered open, blinking slowly against the morning light. In that disoriented state, he looked almost… sweet. Remi stared, completely distracted, her irritation vanishing as she lost her train of thought.

"Sleep for a bit longer," Damian mumbled, pulling her back into his arms while he was still half-asleep.

The familiar throb of pain returned to her back, snapping Remi back to reality. It was time for a reckoning.

"Damian, what exactly did you do last night?"

"Hmm?" A low, gravelly hum escaped his throat.

Remi squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to let his voice bewitch her again. She mustered her most menacing, stern tone. "You! Did you do anything to me last night?"

Damian looked completely bewildered. "Remi, you’re the one who asked me to help you bathe, remember?"

"I’m not talking about that!"

He looked even more confused. "Then what are you talking about?"

"Why am I so sore?"

He let out a low chuckle, his hand moving to rhythmically knead her aching lower back. "Honey, you were dancing like a maniac for half the night. That’s just lactic acid buildup."

"Oh… heh. Right. I thought you…"

Damian applied a bit more pressure, a playful punishment. "You little ingrate. I’m out here playing servant, and you’re busy trying to frame me."

"That feels good… yeah, right there. Keep going on the shoulder blades, they’re killing me!"

Remi’s heartless attempt to dodge the awkward topic earned a smirk. Damian leaned down and pressed a lingering, heavy kiss to her waist. Remi’s mind exploded in a shower of sparks; a delicious tingle surged up her spine, making her shiver uncontrollably.

"Oh, look at that! I’ve discovered a new continent," Damian teased, his fingertips tracing light, wicked patterns along her back.

Forget the soreness—Remi scrambled out of bed and scurried into the bathroom, hiding from the dangerous man. She stared at her crimson reflection in the mirror. "That is so unfair. It’s lethal. He’s a total male siren."

She sighed, reaching back to massage her own waist, but she lacked the skill to hit the right spots. It looked like she needed to start hitting the gym.

Damian followed her in, his expression softening as he saw her wince. "Fine, I’ll stop teasing. Go lie down. I’ll work out the knots, and you’ll be pain-free in no time."

She knew his hands were magic—precise pressure points, perfect rhythm. She caved. "You're done playing around?"

"I promise. Now go."

Remi crawled back onto the bed, skeptical but desperate for relief. As his warm hands pressed into her muscles, the tension began to melt away. Her brows smoothed out, and she let out a satisfied sigh.

"Knock, knock."

"Remi, are you two awake?"

Her mother’s voice rang out from the doorway. Remi, feeling utterly languid, yelled back, "We’re up! Come in, it’s not locked."

"Remi… oh!"

Alicia Crawford walked in and stopped dead, her eyes wide with shock. Her future son-in-law was giving her daughter a massage?

Damian didn't even flinch. He looked at Alicia with a calm, earnest expression. "Remi played a bit too hard last night, and she’s quite sore today. I’m just helping her loosen up."

Alicia was speechless. She couldn't find a single word to defend her daughter's lack of decorum. This girl was already a handful, and now she was making this man wait on her hand and foot? She was going to scare him off!

"Since you're planning on heading back to the Capital this afternoon, I just wanted to let you know… well, carry on then."

Remi watched her mother retreat, looking like she’d just walked in on something scandalous. "We weren't doing anything," she muttered, "Why does she look like she just saw a crime?"

Deciding to avoid further misunderstanding, she got up. "Let’s go downstairs. I don't want my mom letting her imagination run wild."

Damian ruffled her hair, laughing. He wasn't about to tell her that her mother wasn't worried about the "scandal"—she was just annoyed by her daughter's laziness.

"Mom," Remi called out.

Alicia took one look at the couple, saw the way Damian hovered protectively behind Remi, and shot her daughter a glare. "Remi, can you show a little self-restraint? Drinking so much in front of Damian—what if you’d made a total fool of yourself?"

Remi rubbed her nose awkwardly. Could she tell her mother that she’d made a fool of herself the very first time they met?

"Mrs. Crawford," Damian stepped in, his voice elegant and poised. "I prefer Remi just as she is."

Both women looked up at the staircase. Damian stood there, radiating that natural, high-society grace. Alicia couldn't help it; he was the perfect son-in-law.

He walked over to Remi and looked Alicia in the eye, his tone serious and sincere. "Remi is innocent, brave, and radiates sunshine. She’s the finest woman I’ve ever met. She doesn't need to change a single thing. I love her exactly as she is."

Remi felt her eyes sting, a sweet warmth blooming in her chest. How lucky was she to find someone who saw her, understood her, and loved her unconditionally?

Alicia nodded, finally satisfied. "Good boy. With you saying that, I can rest easy."

When they left that afternoon, the weight of the goodbye settled in. Even someone as free-spirited as Remi felt a pang of sadness.

"Mom, Dad, take care of yourselves. Don't worry about me. I’ll be back the second I have time. It’s only a two-hour flight, after all," Remi said, fighting back tears.

"We know, we know. And you—don’t push yourself too hard. Don't put too much pressure on yourself," her mother replied.

"Alright, alright! Stop dawdling or they'll be driving through the night," her father grumbled, though the redness in his eyes gave him away.

"Go on then! Drive safely."

"Goodbye, Mom. Goodbye, Dad."

As the car pulled away, Remi looked in the rearview mirror to see her mother sobbing into her father's shoulder. Her own composure shattered, and the tears began to stream down her face.

Damian pulled her close, his brow furrowed with concern as he handed her a tissue. "Don't cry, my sweet Remi."

"I'm fine… just a minute," she sniffled.

Once she’d let it all out, her mood lightened, and soon she was chatting away again. The drive back didn't feel tedious at all; for Damian, who had arrived feeling stressed and drained, the journey back was entirely different. With a little magpie chirping away beside him, that 310-mile drive felt like a breeze.

By the time they reached the city at 7:00 PM, the streets were packed with endless traffic. The Capital was back to its frantic, high-pressure pace. Everyone was desperate to carve out their own tiny piece of this concrete jungle.

Remi looked through the window at the glittering, sleepless city and took a deep breath. "Back to where the dream begins."