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DAMON'S POV:

Days passed, but it felt like an eternity. Astrid was still in the mansion, but it was like she had vanished. She refused to look at me, refused to acknowledge my existence.

Every time I walked into a room, she'd leave. Every time I tried to speak, she'd shut me down with a glare sharp enough to cut through steel.

The silence between us was unbearable—thick and suffocating, weighing down on me like a thousand regrets.

I'd see her in the hallways sometimes, always wrapped up in those oversized hoodies, hiding herself away. She wouldn't even give me a chance to catch her eyes, like I didn't deserve to exist in the same space as her anymore.

And maybe I didn't.

The mansion was big enough that avoiding me was easy, but the small glimpses of her were constant reminders of what I had done. The nights were the worst, lying awake in an empty room that still smelled faintly of her perfume.

I'd stare at the ceiling, replaying that night over and over, wishing I could take it all back, wishing I could erase the look of hurt in her eyes.

I didn't know how to make it right. I didn't even know if I could. I wasn't used to caring. I was used to taking what I wanted, when I wanted. I was used to girls on their knees begging for me to take their hole. That was exactly why I couldn't let her keep slipping away from me.

Not like this.

~

By the third day, it felt like my brain was trying to piece itself together— I was losing my darn mind.

I sat at the head of the table, the dim light casting shadows on the polished mahogany as my men droned on about territory disputes, new alliances, and a dozen other issues that should've had my full attention. But I was miles away, my mind locked on Astrid, who hadn't so much as looked in my direction for days.

"Boss, with the Enrico family off the radar we've got intel suggesting the DiMarco family's moving illegal shipments through our docks," Dallas said, snapping me out of my daze.

"Again?" I groaned, eyebrows furrowed. "Just take care of it." Silence and confusion filled the room. "But... what do you want us to do?" He glanced at me, his expression stern, a hint of impatience creeping into his voice.

"What?" I clenched my jaw, running a hand through my hair as I tried to focus.

Dallas was my closest confidant, the only one I could rely on when things went sideways, but even his presence wasn't enough to pull me back from the mess I'd made with Astrid.

I hadn't seen her smile in days, and the silence that had settled between us was suffocating. Every time I reached for her, she slipped further away, and it was driving me fucking insane.

"We'll tighten security," I said absently, my gaze drifting to the door, half-expecting her to walk in, to shoot me one of her angry glares that had become all too familiar. But it never happened. She wasn't coming to see me. Not today, not until I found a way to make this right.

Dallas narrowed his eyes, clearly sensing my distraction. "Damon, if you're not in this, you need to tell me now. You've been off your game since—" "Shut up," I cut him off, my voice harsher than I intended.

I still had an image to uphold and I refused to be embarrassed in front of anyone else.

How did these things happen to someone of my status? I was Damon Barista, the most ruthless mafia boss in the entire damn country.

"Who the hell are you to question my authority?" Being me meant I wasn't supposed to give a fuck whether or not he meant well. I didn't need another reminder of how badly I was screwing up. "And by the way," I let out a scoff as I looked around the room like a hawk. "My name isn't Damon, it's Boss to you."