The zipper was loud.

Too loud.

As the assistant unzipped the bag, I stretched my hand toward the glass as if I could freeze time.

“Nooooo!” I shouted, my voice cracking.

The assistant placed it gently on his hands like it were some forbidden sorcery.

Damian stopped mid-sentence, turning to the item in his hand. His gaze narrowed, jaw slowly ticking.

There it was.

Too late.

My eight-inch weapon meant for my private pleasure but now turned into the weapon fashioned against me…stood in all its glory in his hand.

Damian stared at it.

The room went dead silent.

Then, very slowly, he dropped it like it burned him.

“What,”...