Chapter 10 - The Master of the House
By June, the Velvet Room celebrated its first full year under the Mercer Collection umbrella.
The anniversary gala was a triumphant success, generating record breaking charitable donations for local women’s shelters—a initiative I had personally instituted and designed with Damian’s total financial backing.
At midnight, after the last guests had departed and the high-top tables were cleared by the night crew, the lounge fell into a warm, serene quiet.
The amber lamps cast long, golden reflections across the polished mahogany floor. The brass rails gleamed, and the air smelled of fresh roses, orange peel, and expensive scotch.
I stood behind the bar, wearing a tailored black silk jumpsuit, pouring two glasses of vintage champagne.
Damian walked out from the manager’s office, wearing a charcoal suit without a tie, his shirt open at the collar—the exact same attire he had worn the night he stood up from booth seven eight months ago.
He walked over to the bar, stopping at the exact spot where Greg Thornton had once locked his fingers around my wrist.
I set a champagne flute in front of him and picked up my own.
“To the manager,” Damian said, raising his glass, his eyes filled with a deep, unwavering devotion.
“To the man who stood up,” I replied, clinking my glass against his.
We drank the crisp, sparkling wine in the quiet beauty of the empty lounge.
Damian set his glass down, reached across the mahogany counter, and took my left hand in his. He gently turned my palm over, sliding a simple, breathtaking platinum ring onto my ring finger—a flawless emerald-cut diamond resting above a band of pave diamonds.
I looked at the glittering ring, then up at his face, my eyes filling with happy, warm tears.
“Five words,” I whispered softly, leaning across the bar to kiss his lips.
“What five words?” Damian asked, his thumb gently wiping away a single tear from my cheek.
“'Take your hand off her,'” I quoted, a bright, beautiful smile breaking across my face. “Those were the five words that changed my life.”
Damian pulled me closer, his arms wrapping around me over the mahogany counter, holding me tight against his chest in the quiet, golden light of the house we had built together.
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“You changed your own life, Lena,” Damian whispered into my ear, his voice filled with pride and endless love. “I just gave you the floor.”
Outside, the warm summer rain began to fall over the city, streaking the tall glass windows in silver lines, while inside, the Velvet Room remained warm, bright, and completely indestructible.
