Chapter 43 Hell With The Angel

• Damien
• I watched her as she opened the bags, checking each item with delicate care. Her touch was light, reverent, and that big, radiant smile on her face made my stomach churn. I hated that smile on her lips. Hated it even more when it wasn't there. Fuck. It didn't make any fucking sense.
• I tried to focus on my laptop, aimlessly scrolling through documents that didn't even need reviewing in the first place. My eyes barely stayed on the screen. Instead, they kept drifting back to her—sitting on my bed, going through the things I'd bought for her like they were treasures. Excitement glowed in her expression. It was ridiculous. When I'd asked her to pick something out, she hadn't even seemed interested. Barely cared. And now? Now, she looked at every item with equal fascination, doe eyes wide, lips parted in an unreadable sort of wonder.