Jasmine emerged from the door below the stairs. Damon, who was waiting at the door with his posterior facing the door, turned to him.
Her eyes fell on the tray; she tucked her hair away from her face and made her way toward the kitchen.
She walked out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee and was about to step on the stairs.
“Are you really not going to talk to me?” Damon asked as she passed by him and slowly turned to her to meet her gaze.
She licked her lower lip, her head shook gently, and she stared at him for a moment.
“I have nothing to say to you, Damon. Though all of this started as a contract, I've brought myself to trust you, and I expected you to do the same.” She paused, her hands firmly wrapped around the cup. “That explains all the scars and tattoos on your body.”
“Trust
