Chapter Eleven

Present

I stir on the plush bed and mumble something before settling in a comfortable position. After the argument with Hal, I returned to the guestroom.

Bearing the weight of both physical exhaustion and emotional fatigue, I felt utterly drained. So I let the comfort of the plush bed lull me to sleep.

Through slumber, I escaped into a place where time faded away. A place where I relived the time of my life when I was so young and na?ve and in love.

A soft warmth grazes my cheek, and a quiet sigh escapes me. Still caught in the haze of sleep, I keep my eyes closed, savoring the gentle touch for just a little longer. A lazy smile tugs at my lips before reality settles in, pulling me fully awake.

In an instant, my eyes fly open, revealing Damian’s face. And his eyes, like pools of night, hold an untamed intensity that draws me in and traps me immediately.

I stay motionless as his fingers trace a feather-light path across my cheek, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

My heart races as I meet his gaze that holds a smoldering fire I was all too familiar with.

“Do you have a secret desire to be swept off your feet?” He drawls, his voice sends shivers down my spine.

I push his hand away, forcing a facade of indifference despite the tingling sensation I feel where his fingers had been. “What do you mean?”

His features remain impassive, revealing nothing as he withdraws his touch. “Well, it seems like you’ve got a thing for being carried around. Deliberately disobeying my instructions by sleeping here just so I’d have to haul you back to our bedroom.”

I gasp in part surprise and outrage, sitting up. “You’re unbelievably full of yourself, and completely wrong!”

He doesn’t move an inch, making no effort to give me any space. So, we end up sitting incredibly close, just a few inches separating us.

When he remains silent, I shake my head. “What are you even doing here?”

I check the clock on the wall and confirm that I barely slept for twenty minutes. Hal said Damian was in a meeting so I assumed he would be gone for at least a couple of hours.

He arches an eyebrow. “You’re asking what I’m doing in my own house, with my own wife?”

“You know what I mean,” I grumble.

Instead of answering, this infuriating man takes off his black suit jacket, revealing his strong shoulders. The black shirt he’s wearing underneath hints at the hard contours of his physique.

“What are you doing?” I blush and avert my eyes, torn between ignoring and acknowledging his irresistible presence.

This man, my husband—the one I was, and still am, so crazy about—is my greatest weakness.

Why do I often find myself in a clash of desire against determination? A simple act of him shrugging out of his jacket turns me on. It has always been like this. My desire for him is undeniable. How can I feel this way even after what happened this morning?

He lashed out purposely because I witnessed something I shouldn’t have. His nightmare... it showed me that Damian isn’t as untouchable as he wants everyone to think.

I take a shuddering breath when I feel his fingers brushing my curl and tucking it behind my ear. My defenses begin to crumble when he trails his fingertips down along my jaw and then over the sensitive skin of my throat.

My heartbeat quickens. His touch holds an unspoken promise. An unspoken vow of carnal pleasure that only he can deliver. It’s a seductive invitation, a snippet of what’s awaiting if I surrender.

When his fingers trail over my collarbone, I swallow hard and my eyes fall shut.

An electric jolt surges through me as his breath grazes my ear. “All you have to do is ask, angel and I’ll have you crying out in pleasure, begging for more.”

The fog of desire dissipates as clarity takes hold. Jerking away, I stumble out of the bed.

“S-sorry.” I rub my neck, eyes lowered. What am I apologizing for, I have no idea, but I realize a bit too late that it was stupid of me to say it. I grimace.

He rises to his feet with a fluid grace. He is not affected in the slightest with that intense moment we shared.

He steps closer, his presence dwarfing mine. “Are you sorry for wanting me too much?” he murmurs huskily and my knees almost buckle.

“Didn’t you have an important meeting?” I say, desperate to ease the tension that is brewing between us again.

“I did.”

“What happened?”

He reaches out and tilts my chin. “I heard my wife needed me.”

My mouth falls open. That’s it. He heard about what happened earlier and came rushing back because of me?

“So you skipped your meeting because I demanded my phone?”

“I skipped it because you refused to eat.” He glares at me.

“You never jeopardized your work.” At least never for me .

He withdraws, his demeanor turning distant as he pushes his hands in his pockets. He regards me with a mocking gaze. “Maybe I am a changed man.”

“Forgive me if I don’t fall for the act this time.” When he merely studies me silently, I speak again, “I don’t care about your games anymore. Just give me my phone back.”

“Ah, yes. That reminds me,” He muses as he circles the room with a languid grace. “Why do you need it so bad? As far as I recall, you don’t have anyone to talk to.”

His words slice through me, leaving fresh wounds. Damian made sure I was truly alone after our wedding. He wasn’t satisfied that dad had cut ties with me. He wrenched me away from the few acquaintances I had, trapping me in this cage.

“I-I do have a friend.”

“The one who tried to hit you with a baseball bat?” He taunts.

“She was trying to save me!” I cry out. “Anyway, I don’t want to argue anymore. Give me my phone, I want to call Summer.”

Damian grows very still.

I furrow my brows. “What’s wrong?”

In a blink of an eye, he regains his composure and his features resumes their usual stoic mask, revealing his ability to swiftly regain control.

“What’s her full name?” he asks quietly.

I watch him skeptically. “Why do you want to know?”

“Don’t respond to my question with another one.” His voice is sharp.

“I will.”

His eyes darken, the muscle in his jaw jumping.

A tremor runs through me as a chill of fear grips me, but I steel myself. “I won’t tell you her full name. You’ll just use it against me.”

I won’t let him manipulate me with this. Summer is off limits.

“You think you’re in control now?” His voice is low, filled with dark amusement. “You haven’t even begun to understand what it means to defy me.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” I say, though my voice wavers.

“You should be.”

I tremble but bravely respond, “You can keep playing your games, but I won’t let you control every aspect of my life from now on.”

He stalks toward me, and it takes a lot of effort not to run. When he is in front of me, he leans in, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. “But that’s where you’re wrong, angel. You said you won’t let me control everything, but as far as I remember, I control everything. Including you.”

“Not this time.” I can feel the heat of his body as he towers over me. The tension thick.

“We’ll see.” He states with a dangerous intensity.

“We will.” I jut my chin at him.

Without sparing me another glance, he strides toward the door. “You’ve got ten seconds to be downstairs for brunch.”

“I’m not coming—”

He doesn’t even look back. “If you want your phone, you’ll do as I say.”

I glare at the empty doorway, my teeth clenched in frustration, hating that he’s won this round.

◆◆◆

Damian is an unpredictable man. He’s like a puzzle, always doing things I can’t quite wrap my head around. In the past, he never forced me to spend time with him. Never demanded my company for meals like he did now. Well, I know he did this to prove who holds all the power here. But still, it’s unsettling.

Just when I thought I had him all figured out, he goes ahead and completely shift the dynamics of the situation.

I don’t for a second believe that he left his important meeting because I refused to eat. He has never done that. Not for my birthday. Not even for our first wedding anniversary. There has to be more to it than meets the eye.

Whatever this is, I can’t afford to make a mistake. I have to tread carefully, which means keeping my mouth shut and following his rules, even if every part of me wants to scream. It’s not like I have a choice. But just because I have to do it doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy.

It takes every ounce of willpower to step out of the guestroom and follow him. The urge to turn around and lock myself in is strong, but I push it aside and keep walking down the stairs.

I pause at the doorway to the dining room, my self-respect faltering at the thought of facing him again. It’s humiliating, this feeling of being treated like a child.

Taking a deep breath, I enter the formal dining area.

The midday sunlight streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the opulent space with a warm, golden glow. The air is filled with a subtle hint of freshly cut flowers.

My eyes drift toward the head of the table, where my husband is sitting with an air of authority. The soft glow of sunlight highlights his profile, casting a gentle halo around him.

His beauty is so captivating, it’s easy to mistake him for an angel. I certainly did when I first laid eyes on him. But as time passed, I recognized the darkness that lingers within his handsome features.

I stare at his fingers which are wrapped around his phone and feel the heat rising, tinting my cheeks red. Only moments ago, those same fingers were caressing my cheek, trailing down the curve of my throat. Shame trickles through me as I try and fail to evoke hate for this man.

His dark head tilts up and his eyes land on me. The icy detachment leaves me grappling with the ache in my chest.

No time in this world would be enough to get over the failure of my first love. And every time I glance at him, the betrayal slaps me across the face.

“Do I need to carry you to the chair or can you handle sitting down yourself?”

“No need for that.” I say before taking the chair opposite him at the far end.

“Good. It’s better when you don’t act like your true self.”

Every muscle in my body tenses. “My true self?”

“Entitled little princess.”

I flinch, then quickly mask the hurt with a forced smile. “You know me so well, husband.”

That makes his jaw tick.

Is he disappointed that I didn’t take the bait? Did he expect me to lash out, to give him something in a fit of rage that he could twist and use against me later?

He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I do, don’t I?”

I lower my eyes, focusing on the soup in front of me. Just as I lift a spoon to my lips, his voice breaks through the silence. “Does it run in the family?”

I freeze, the spoon suspended in mid-air. The color drains from my face as I set it down slowly. “What?”

“This,” he gestures toward me. “This. Using people when it suits you, then discarding them when you’re bored.”

I frown, genuinely confused. “What are you talking about?”

“You claim to love me, yet you walked away without a second thought. After everything I’ve given you—the luxurious lifestyle and everything money can buy... So why did you run?”

When I remain silent, he presses on. “How did it feel, living without all the luxury this past month? How did you manage without the cards, the chauffeur, the car?”

I begin to tremble. Damian watches, his eyes not leaving me.

“I’m surprised you didn’t rush back to Daddy. Then again, it would have been pointless, wouldn't it? He doesn't want you.”

My chin wobbles. “That’s not true.”

“No?” he taunts. “Come on, River. You know your father. He loathes you. He’d slam the door in your face the moment you showed up.”

“Shut up.” I bite my quivering lower lip.

“You’ve always been unwanted—”

“Stop it!” I cover my ears. “Please! Stop!” I shout desperately.

He’s never been this cruel before—never openly attacked me or disrespected me. He was distant, yes, indifferent, but never like this. But now he has changed. For the worse.

Did I really leave my father for this? Did I truly go against everything I knew, everyone who cared for me, just for this man—this man who’s now treating me worse than anyone would treat their sworn enemy?

“Why are you doing this to me, Damian? You… this—”

“I don’t have time for this,” he cuts me off, his tone cold and final. “If you want your phone, you’ll finish your meal.”

I don’t look up as I lift the spoon again with trembling fingers.

My cheeks feel wet and with horror, I realize that I’m crying. I swipe at my eyes with the back of my hand, but they keep falling. “I-I’m sorry,” I choke out between sniffles.

“I’ll finish my meal, as you ordered.” The tears blur my vision, making him a hazy shape. “I just want to…” My words are broken by my sobs. “I-I just want my p-phone—” I gasp when I’m suddenly hauled up from my seat.

My eyes lock with dark ones as Damian looms over me, his hands gripping my upper arms tightly. I struggle against him, tears pouring down my face. He curses under his breath, pulling me against his chest, his arms locking around my back.

Sobbing, my face buried in his shirt, I choke out, “What have I ever done to you to make you hate me so much?”

He keeps holding me as I sob against him, my body shaking with every breath. His hands stroke my back, almost soothingly, as if trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling within me.

After a while, my cries quiet, and I pull away slightly. I stare at his chin rather than his eyes. “L-let me go,” I mumble weakly.

“Look at me,” he growls. When I don’t comply, he tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Stop crying.”

“Now I’m not even allowed to cry—”

He takes my mouth, forcing my head back in a kiss so brutal it takes me by surprise. Yet in spite of all the hurtful things he said, my body responds, shivering under his touch.

I whimper and he lifts his head. He stares at me for a second before kissing me again. His free hand tightens in my curls, making my lips part on a gasp. He spears his tongue between my lips and I moan, remembering his taste, consumed by the feel of his tongue as it rubs against mine. A low guttural groan emanates from deep within his core as he draws me even closer to him. I shiver when my achy breasts rub against his chest.

The surprising tug of desire distracts me and I break the kiss to stare up at him with tears still clinging my lashes. My chest rises and falls rapidly, my breath coming in short gasps as I ask, “W-what are you doing?”

He leans down and brushes his lips against mine. “What does it look like?”

“I don’t get you,” I whisper, my breath shaky. “One second you’re tearing me apart, and the next, you’re kissing me like you can’t get enough of me.”

“It’s true. I can’t get enough of you.”

I shake my head.

“I want you,” he says, his voice low. “It doesn’t matter if we’re fighting or arguing. I’ll always want you. I’ll always want my wife.”

Those words. They hit me right in the chest. “I may still love you, Damian but I won’t let myself be close to you like this again. Ever.”

“Is that what you truly want?” he murmurs, gliding his hand down my side until it grabs my hip. That one touch makes my whole body tremble and Damian catches it with a satisfaction gleam in his eyes.

“Yes,” I breathe as he begins to lower his mouth to mine. The slow and deliberate move makes me wetter, the fabric of my panties clinging to my drenched pussy.

“Yes?” He taunts. “Yes what?” His mouth lands on mine, not giving me a chance to answer. When he presses his erection against me, my body betrays me, melting into him despite myself.

My hand wraps around his neck, whimpering as our tongues tangle again.

Even through the blur of passion, a thought pesters me. How can I find solace in the arms of the man who caused me so much pain?

But no matter how twisted our circumstances may be, one thing is crystal clear. I am not the only one in this. This passion, this madness is mutual.

He walks me backward, and my back collides with the chair. He breaks the kiss for a moment, shoving the chair out of the way. The chair scrapes loudly across the floor, tipping over, and the sound startles me. I quickly glance around, exhaling in relief when I realize we’re completely alone in the dining room.

I jump at the loud crash of cutlery and watch with wide eyes as Damian’s hand sweeps out the remaining things on the table before lifting and setting me on it.

I grab his shoulders for balance, my thighs parting on their own for him to step between them. I fist my hands in his shirt, tugging him to me, tilting my head up more fully toward his in an open invitation. He doesn’t hesitate to take what I’m offering on a silver platter. He takes my mouth again.

With a helpless groan, I kiss him back passionately, my arms twines around his neck, clinging to him. When my legs wrap around his waist, pulling him tighter to me, a deep throated sound of triumph breaks from him and unfurls over my lips.

Shame hits me hard, remembering how he humiliated me. Desperate to hurt back, retaliate, I bite his lower lip. Hard. He jerks his head back, wrenching his mouth from mine.

My breath catches at the sight of his bloodied lower lip. He reaches up and wipes the blood from his thumb. He glances at his smeared thumb then slowly looks up.

Instead of anger, his lips curl like he enjoyed what I did to him.

“Damian—” his bloodied lips slam against mine. This time the kiss turns animalistic as if I’ve opened a gate to something darker, something twisted. He makes me drink his blood, the metallic taste exploding in my mouth.

Maybe he thinks forcing his blood on me is a punishment, but it only deepens my craving. I drink from him like I’m starved, desperate for every drop.

I hate myself for needing this, for craving him in ways that only make me weaker.

His free hand strokes down my side until he’s lifting one of my thighs higher and pushes his erection against my center. My eyes roll back in my head as he thrusts again and again. Groaning, I undulate my hips, meeting every thrust, the pressure so right, so delicious that it aches.

Damian’s hot mouth trails down my jaw to suck on my throbbing pulse.

“Oh god,” my head lolls back and he takes full advantage, covering my skin with his demanding mouth. I rub shamelessly against his bulge panting and mumbling his name.

He’s still kissing my neck when his hand slips between us and dives under my skirt. I am too far gone to stop this, stop him. And even he knows it. Right now, not even self-loathing could stop me from taking what Damian can give me. There’s no place for any grievances. Just white-hot passion running through my veins.

Our mouths fuses hungrily again as his fingers slide my panties to the side and find my clit. I jerk violently at the contact, causing the kiss to break. It has been months since we had sex. Months since he touched me so intimately. I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss it. Damian is a fantastic lover. A generous one too who always makes sure I am left satisfied. Not because he cares for me but because he draws pleasure in getting me off. It satisfies him a great deal to see me unravelling in his arms.

I bury my face in the crook of his neck as he begins to rub my clit in tight circles. “Please,” I let out a pained moan.

He kisses the shell of my ear. “Please what?”

I dig my nails in his biceps. “Don’t make me say it, Damian.”

“All right.” His easy compliance makes me lean back and peer at him.

“Don’t look so surprised, angel.” He kisses my tear-stained cheek as his fingers continue to pleasure me, making me tremble. “As promised, I will have you begging me to fuck you.” He increases the pace of his fingers, making me cling to his shoulders. I muffle my wordless gasps against his shirt as the pleasure starts building. He speaks again, “Be it my tongue, fingers or cock, you won’t have any of them inside you until you beg me.”

I come hard, moaning into his shirt, my body jerking with wave after wave of pure ecstasy. He really kept his word. Not once did his fingers enter me the entire time he was touching me. He won’t fuck me until I beg him. And I am not going to do that. And even he knows that. I was vulnerable today and he let me have this brief moment of reprieve. I shouldn’t feel grateful—he owed me this much. He’s the one who upset me to begin with.

When I come down, I try to push his hand away from my sensitive pussy but he doesn’t budge. I know what he’s doing. He wants to make me come again. And I am not ready. Still high from the pulsing aftershocks, I dig my nails in his skin.

“Damian, no,” I gasp when the familiar tension starts brewing again.

I know he won’t listen until I beg, but I refuse to give him that. I won’t beg, and he won’t make me.

Stuck in the loop, we both stubbornly cling to our egos until I’m coming two more times.

I was dimly aware of Damian watching me, his gaze drinking me in as I came again and again, his eyes darkening with every cry of his name. By the time my fifth orgasm hit, I was sprawled across the dining table as I stared at my husband defiantly, still not ready to let him win.

I don’t know what happened after that but my eyes drifted close as blackness took over and the last thing I heard was Damian cursing loudly before calling out my name.