As more time passed, I succeeded in convincing myself that I could remain oblivious to the nature of Oliver's work. I clung to the illusion that it was enough to be vaguely aware of the danger, even when I didn't fully understand the risk.

But the events of a night in early October obliterated my illusion.

Oliver had left earlier that evening, accompanied by Ted, Beckett, and several other members of his security team. I knew they weren't going to some swanky event in the city this time. That day, I'd come across Oliver and Ted speaking in hushed voices; they fell silent as soon as I got within hearing distance. Tonight's meeting was obviously important, and I couldn't help but worry it might also be dangerous.

But Damien seemed unconcerned, and as the hours went by, I grew more relaxed, too. While we hung out in my room, I looked up online tutorials in the hopes that one of them would teach me how to style my hair in a more sophisticated manner. My blonde locks had grown longer, and they now fell past my shoulders. Damien watched with a smile as I swept my hair back from my face, turning my head left and right in order to study my profile in the mirror.

"You have the most gorgeous heart-shaped face," he said.

Though I was better at taking compliments by this point, I still blushed at his words. "And you are great for my ego, Damien."

I was about to ask what he thought of a certain hairstyle when the sound of shouting downstairs made me freeze. Damien's eyes locked with mine, and in that second, all of our unspoken fears seemed to pass between us like a current.

The moment I heard Oliver's voice over the others, I literally grew weak with relief. He's okay, I told myself. Without speaking, Damien and I rushed from my room. As he bounded down the stairs, I was right on his heels.

The men had congregated in the sitting room. They were all on their feet, everyone talking at once. Even Phil was there, barking orders at Ted that made no sense to me. It was only when I saw Oliver that I knew something was horribly wrong. His face was ashen, and his expression was so grim that I couldn't even begin to imagine what made him appear simultaneously distraught and enraged.

But Damien could.

"Where's Beckett?" His voice was like a bell, its sharp ring slicing through all the noise.

I stared at Oliver, silently pleading with him to tell us that Beckett was fine. Instead, he turned his back and lowered his head.

It was Ted who stepped forward. After clearing his throat, he finally managed to speak, but the words were so quiet that I could barely hear them. "Beckett's not coming back, Damien."

My stare settled on Ted's shirt, which was stained with blood. I couldn't hold back a pitiful cry. Beside me, Damien swayed on his feet, and I grabbed his arm in an attempt to steady him.

He began to moan, the sounds heartbreaking. "No, no, no..."

"Get them out of here," Oliver ordered, still unable to look at us.

A guard named Eddie gently ushered us from the room. Though Damien let me lead him away, he kept making those anguished sounds. Silent tears spilled down my cheeks as we followed Eddie to the stairs.

Phil must have thought we were out of earshot, but I heard him say in a low voice, "That bullet was meant for you, Oliver."

"You think I don't know that?" Oliver roared. I flinched at his raw fury. "You find the fucker who ordered the hit! Someone will talk, and when you give me a name—"

"Then I'll take care of it." Ted's voice was cold and matter-of-fact.

"No, you won't!" Oliver shouted. "You'll delegate this, Ted. It's too fucking close to home for you to..."

I tried to hear more, but Eddie was insistent on seeing me and Damien upstairs. He waited until we were in my room, with the door closed behind us.

For a brief moment, I feared I might throw up. My skin felt both chilled and clammy, and my face was covered with a thin layer of sweat. After taking several deep breaths, I was able to focus my full attention on Damien. "I'm so sorry," I told him through my tears.

He wrapped his arms around me and began sobbing. I held him close, rocking him back and forth. All the while, I felt utterly helpless. There was nothing I could do or say to ease his grief.

Damien finally grew silent, his body limp in my embrace. He let me undress him, and when he stood in just his underwear, I drew back the bedcovers. Together, we lay in the darkness of my room. While I again held him in my arms, my heart pounded so hard that I felt it as a singular frenzied pulse. I had to clench my teeth to stop them from chattering.

"I loved him," Damien whispered.

Fresh tears flooded my eyes. "I know you did."

"I can't believe I'll never see him again." His voice was flat and distant, which made me worry he might be in shock. "There won't be a funeral, because no one besides us can know what happened. He'll just... disappear."

"Does he have any family?"

"The people in this house were his family; I was his family." A choked sob escaped Damien's lips.

I stroked his back, trying to soothe him. "What happens now?" I dared to ask.

When Damien replied, his voice was as hard as Ted's had been. "Oliver will handle it. He won't rest until he finds out who did this."

"But will he—"

"No more questions," Damien murmured, nestling closer to me.

Though I fell silent, my mind continued racing. I stared into the darkness as if it could provide some kind of answer. After a long while, Damien's even breathing let me know he'd dozed off. Sleep provided a merciful escape from his grief, and I remained completely still to avoid waking him.

At some point, I heard the bedroom door open. Lying motionless, I held my breath. Low light from the hallway spilled into the room, providing enough illumination for me and Damien to be seen in the bed.

I knew it was Oliver checking on us. He stood in the doorway, silent and still, before finally retreating. The sound of the door gently closing carried over to me as darkness filled the room again.

An hour must have passed before I slipped out of Damien's embrace. He continued sleeping as I left the bed and crept toward the door.

The house's quiet was like a presence all around me. Making my way to Oliver's bedroom, I sensed that plans had already been put in place among the men who had gathered downstairs earlier. I was also certain there were many more guards here than usual; Ted would insist on heightened security for the foreseeable future.

Oliver's door was closed but unlocked. I let myself inside his room without knocking. Though my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, I could barely make out his form in the bed.

"Dreama." He said my name and nothing more. No explanations or assurances.

In silence, I undressed and then moved to join him. He lay on his back, naked as well.

"Damien's asleep," I whispered. "I'll go back to him soon, but I needed to see you."

When Oliver finally spoke again, his voice was thick with emotion. "I'm sorry. I hope you and Damien will be able to forgive me."

In the darkness, I reached for his hand. "There's nothing to forgive," I quietly insisted. "You couldn't have possibly known this would happen. Damien understands it's not your fault, and so do I." Bringing his hand to my lips, I planted a kiss on his palm. "You're a good man."

Oliver pulled away from me then. "I'm not a good man, Dreama. The sooner you figure that out, the better. Don't make the same mistake as Damien by placing me on a pedestal, because I'll only disappoint you."

Rather than argue, I forced myself to ask, "How did this happen? With all the security—"

"The house where tonight's meeting took place is in a rather secluded area, not all that different from our surroundings here. The meeting itself went fine. It was only after we were finished and heading back to the car..." Oliver drew in a shuddering breath before continuing. "The shot was fired from a fairly good distance. A stand of trees bordering that property would have provided the shooter with plenty of cover. If Beckett hadn't stepped toward me when he did..."

I pressed a hand against my mouth to muffle a sob. I was heartbroken over Beckett's death, but the thought of losing Oliver was more than I could bear.

"We took cover behind the vehicles," he said, his voice heavy. "The man whom I met with tonight soon had his own security team all over the property, but they didn't find anything. They'll conduct a more thorough search in the morning."

He turned his back to me, and as I stroked his skin, his muscles remained rigid beneath my touch. "Please don't shut me out, Oliver."

A heavy silence stretched on between us. "I swore I'd take care of you," he finally said. "I promised I'd keep you safe. And as long as you're inside this house, I can keep my promise. But you can't live that way."

Those words, so calmly spoken, made my mouth go dry. My stomach began its nauseating churning again.

"You should get away from this place," Oliver went on, "and away from me. I'll set you up in an apartment a few hours from here. You'll have everything you need."

In my scramble to turn on the bedside lamp, I almost knocked it over. Oliver rolled onto his back, and we both squinted at the sudden light. But I was upon him in an instant, straddling his hips.

Leaning forward, I grabbed his chin. He didn't try to free himself from my grip. Instead, he stared up at me as if he were seeing me for the first time.

And maybe he was. It had taken months, but he was now really seeing me.

"I'm not going anywhere!" I hissed with a vehemence that made his eyes widen a little. "I know the risks, and I'm staying."

His jaw muscles tightened beneath my fingers. "I want both you and Damien out of here."

"Don't you dare try to send us away!" I hated the sudden tears threatening to overwhelm me. Somehow, I fought them back. "I need you, and so does he. We belong here!"

Oliver closed his eyes for a long moment. I finally released my hold on him, but I made no move to lie at his side. When he looked up at me again, his gaze was full of tenderness. "Why would you do this?" he asked, clearly bewildered. "I promise that I'll take care of you even if you're not living here."

"I won't leave you." Blinking back more tears, I added, "You're all that matters."

Despite our grief, or maybe because of it, I yearned to be close to him. I didn't want even an inch of space separating us. Though he seemed torn about what to do with me, I'd already made up my mind. Still straddling his hips, I rested my weight on my knees, which were planted on either side of him. With a fervent need, I began sliding my pussy along the length of his flaccid cock.

A sigh escaped him, and again, he said my name. I half-expected him to tell me we couldn't, not tonight. Instead, his jaw slackened from the pleasure my body gave him.

"Don't push me away," I murmured. "I trust you, Oliver. Now, you have to trust me."

When our eyes locked, he slowly nodded.

We'd fucked many times before, and we'd made love even more often than that. But tonight was different. Lying beneath me, with his hands resting on my hips, Oliver surrendered control. I sensed his desperate desire for me to relieve him of his anguish, if only for a little while.

Once he was fully hard, I reached between us and guided him to my entrance. As I sank down upon his cock, a quiet moan emerged from my throat.

"Ah, sweetheart!" Oliver sighed. His face was full of such raw vulnerability that I almost had to look away. I'd never seen him so unguarded, and I doubted I ever would again.

Leaning back a little, I placed my palms against his thighs in order to balance myself. Then, I started riding him with a gentle rhythm. His gaze moved from my face to my breasts, which were now thrust forward. Finally, his stare settled on the place where we were joined. His breathing quickened at the sight of my pussy taking him deep. I knew it excited him to have such an intimate view of our coupling.

"Dreama, I—"

I didn't let him finish, for I feared he'd later regret what he was now tempted to say. "Shh, just let me have you." With a smile, I watched his lust build in time with my own. He slid his palms over my skin before cupping my breasts. The feel of him fondling my hard nipples made me bite my lip to stifle a needy cry. Throwing my head back, I rode him faster as my arousal grew uncontrollable.

Oliver needed only to massage my clit with the pad of his thumb to summon forth my climax. I was surprised by how effortlessly I came. Even as my mind and soul were inundated by pain, my body instinctually found its escape. Somehow, I managed to stay quiet while I violently shuddered.

Once the orgasm subsided, waves of pleasure continued licking at my core. Oliver looked up at me pleadingly, and this time, I leaned forward, with my hands against his chest. "Take me!" I begged.

Cupping my ass in his hands, Oliver fiercely bucked his hips. The feel of him relentlessly driving his cock into my cunt made me open my mouth as if to scream, but I only released a guttural moan. His fingers dug into my flesh as he thrust even harder. Though his face was full of blatant need, he lasted until I climaxed twice more. Finally, my powerful contractions proved more than he could withstand, and he erupted inside me with a choked cry.

When I again lay at his side, we were both flushed and sweating. He gave me a deep, sensual kiss before burying his face in my neck. It was then that I realized he craved this closeness as much as I did. As he languidly sucked my nipple, his fingers teased my clit. The pleasure was so intense that I had to lower my lips to his hair in order to subdue my moan.

"No more talk of sending me away," I said while writhing beneath his touch. "Promise me."

Lifting his head, he met my gaze. "I promise, Dreama."

My back arched as I came for him yet again. A faint smile played on his lips, for he always loved to see me so undone. I was still shaking when he drew me into his arms.

I knew I needed to return to my own room. When Damien woke, I didn't want him to be alone. Still, I allowed myself a few more minutes with Oliver. It was as if he could hear my thoughts, for he whispered, "Thank you for taking care of Damien tonight. I just couldn't bear to see him like that."

"I understand," I whispered back.

Oliver withdrew from me just enough to study my face. "You're different, Dreama. You're no longer that wide-eyed, innocent girl who showed up here months ago." His eyes narrowed slightly, as if I was a puzzle he couldn't quite solve. "There's an edge to you now. It's subtle, but it still surprises me."

I didn't ask what he meant, for I knew that much of my former naivete had disappeared. Maybe some of my softness had, too. "Are you saying you don't like that side of me?"

A smile pulled at the corner of Oliver's mouth. "Oh no, darling, I like it very much." After giving me another kiss, he added, "And I hope to see more of it."