Page 110 of The Prince of Power

When we pull into the gravel lot beside the squat brick church with its peeling white steeple, my heart does a little leap. This place has always been home to me.

As we get out of the car, I grab the takeout bag. On instinct, I grab Damian’s hand. He glances down at our fingers as I tug him along, a soft smile touches his lips.

Yes. This man needs to be loved.

We walk through the lobby of the church and in the direction of Dad’s office. When we get inside, it’s the same as ever—cramped but cozy. Old leather chairs, a cross on the wall, and shelves stacked with theological books.

Dad stands from his desk, his whole face brightening. Before I can say anything, he pulls me into a hug.

God, I needed this.

“You’re really here, Bug,” he murmurs, squeezing me before pulling back. His eyes shift to Damian. My dad’s expression is kind but searching.

I clear my throat. “Dad, this is Damian Cross.”

Damian steps forward and extends a hand. “Pastor St. Clair.”

Dad shakes his hand. “Damian. Thank you for bringing me my Ava today.”

Damian nods. “It’s a pleasure.”

I exhale, and the tension leaves my shoulders. No hostility or posturing from Damian. Sure, he’s a little formal with my dad, but that’s almost more of a relief than anything. I’ve never seen him treat his elders with deference. Certainly not Professor Moore. Not even his own father.

Violet tugs at my sleeve. “Come to the bathroom with me?”

Dad chuckles. “Still doing that, huh?”

I roll my eyes but smile. “It’s a girl thing,” I say, turning to Damian. “It means she wants to talk about you behind your back.”

Damian smirks. “Get to it.”

Violet grabs my hand and pulls me down the hallway. As soon as we’re out of earshot, she glances up at me with huge, awestruck eyes. “He’s gorgeous.”

I don’t even try to stop the giddy smile rising my lips. “I know.”

Gorgeous and so complicated.

Damian

As soon as the door swings shut behind Ava and Violet, the air in the office changes. Mr. St. Clair leans back in his chair, watching me closely—too closely. As if he’s been waiting for this moment.

I’m used to scrutiny. I’m used to men sizing me up, deciding whether I’m a threat, whether I’m useful. But something about his gaze is different. It isn’t judgmental. It isn’t curious.

It’s knowing.

I exhale slowly and lean forward, resting my forearms on my knees. “Since we have a moment alone, there’s something I’d like to say.”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. “Go ahead.”

“If you decide to look me up on social media, you’ll probably find some concerning things about me.” My voice is smooth. Measured. “I won’t insult you by pretending they aren’t true. I know my reputation. I’m a womanizer. A manipulator.” I let those words hang between us before I shake my head. “But things are different with Ava. I’ve changed. For the better.”

Still, he says nothing.

“I care for your daughter deeply.” My voice is quieter now. “I’ll never hurt her.”

His expression changes ever so slightly. A subtle tick of his jaw. A minute narrowing of his eyes. He drums his fingersagainst the desk. “You care for Ava deeply,” he repeats, as if tasting the words on his tongue.

I nod.

---