Damian's Assassin (Chapter Four, page 1 of 26)


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Bianca awoke in a cocoon. The sheets were so fine and light they seemed to melt against her skin. The bed molded to her body with each movement, encouraging her to stay there even longer. Her hair was damp at the roots but her long curls as bouncy and cheerful as she felt fatigued.

She rolled onto her side, body aching from exertion. The sheets smelled of a man with an ensnaring scent, a mixture of dark musk and soap. She breathed it in again before climbing from the bed.

His room was clean to the point of anal, his color scheme black on white. Even the pictures on the wall were black and white photography in black frames. He had no family pictures, no trinkets or doodads like she had all over her apartment. There was an alarm clock on the nightstand beside the black base of a lamp. It read 6:23AM.

The door to the room was closed. She eyed it nervously, not wanting to venture past the safety of the bedroom. Crossing the threshold into the bathroom, she paused to look at herself in the mirror with a grimace. She wore an oversized shirt and boxer shorts, neither of which was hers.

However, on the counter was a folded pair of jeans, a set of matching bra and underwear, and a sweater. She looked at it, flushing to think someone had taken the time to figure out her sizes.

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