Chapter Twenty-Three

Present

D amian drags me behind him as he navigates through the long hallway.

“Damian, wait!” I gasp, trying to keep up with his long strides. “At least let me fix my lipstick before we go out there!”

“That won’t be necessary. We’re going home.”

Of course, we are. He doesn’t want to give me a chance to change my mind. After all, I more or less agreed to give him what he wants. And Damian is not going to waste a second to claim what he wants. Selfish jerk!

Hal is trailing beside us, his eyes trained ahead. I feel my face warming.

With a determined yank, I halt his brisk pace. “Either you find another exit or let me use the bathroom. Because there’s no way I’m letting those people see me like—”

“Like you’ve just been thoroughly ravished by your husband?”

Despite blushing furiously, my chin shoots up, my pale green eyes challenging him. “What’s it going to be?”

A glint in his dark gaze hints at an appreciation for my defiance, yet his poker face reveals nothing more. Whatever it is, it gets on my nerves. “Will you—” He bends swiftly and smothers my words with his mouth. The kiss is short but hard, muffling my protests.

By the time he wrenches his mouth away, I’m breathless.

Damian straightens, glances at Hal, who immediately jumps into action and starts ushering me away, probably toward the restroom. I comply but not before glaring at him and uttering “Jerk,” making sure I’m audible.

Once inside, I move to the sink but halt mid-step when my gaze clashes with my reflection in the mirror. My fingers tighten into fists, nails digging into my palms as I assess my state.

Damian was going to make me walk through the sea of socialites and celebrities looking like that? The woman with glazed light green eyes staring back at me hardly looks like me .

My curls are a mess, strands of them clinging to my flushed cheeks. I study my mouth which was now wiped clear of lipstick, but still so red and soft and swollen from his kisses.

I trace my fingers over a mark on the porcelain skin of my neck. I close my eyes as memory of his teeth grazing there washes over me. Shivers wrack my body.

I open my eyes and stare at the woman in the mirror again, her pale greens now wantonly darkened, her flushed body begging for her husband.

Jesus. Was I always that transparent? No wonder Damian looked so smug when I kept on denying I want him.

Of course, I want him. After all, he turned me into a woman. The girl I used to be no longer exists. I willingly let her go by submitting to him and in return spent endless nights being worshipped like a goddess.

The pull I feel toward him is magnetic, a force I can’t escape. And neither can he. Now, all I have to do now is turn that against him.

Still, I remind myself: sex and emotions are separate. I shouldn’t mix them.

From the start, Damian was able to sleep with me without ever letting his emotions get involved. Maybe it’s time I do the same. I don’t know how long I’ll be trapped in this, but instead of wallowing in self-loathing and despair, I can start playing the game his way. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll learn to manipulate him like he manipulates me, using sex as my weapon.

Fixing my appearance the best I could, I exit the bathroom and find Hal and Damian conversing. Upon seeing me, they stop. I turn beet red under their scrutiny but then frown internally.

I have nothing to be ashamed of. I am not going to berate myself for wanting him anymore. Things were never normal between Damian and me and if he can be nonchalant about it, so can I. “Take me home.”

Damian’s eyes darken as he extends his hand and I take it without hesitation. He pulls me to his side and we go to say our goodbyes.

Each farewell to his business associates seems to morph into a new discussion, making him tenser by the minute. Damian is an oversexed man and months of abstinence is equivalent to a lifetime. No wonder he’s so stiff. His impatience is obvious, and I can feel the tension radiating off him. It’s clear—he wants me home, and he wants it fast.

I am still shocked that he’s been celibate all this time, never once straying. The thought alone fills me with a fierce, possessive satisfaction, knowing I’ve had his loyalty all along.

I perk up as the gala hostess, standing among the group surrounding us, begins discussing her volunteer work.

“I’d like to volunteer,” I say and feel Damian’s eyes drilling into me.

“Wonderful! We’ll get in touch with you,” Catherine with her silver hair and impeccable grace, says enthusiastically.

“That sounds perfect,” I say with a smile. “My husband’s always saying I don’t socialize enough. This would be good for me, wouldn’t it, darling?” I tilt my neck to smile at my husband whose face is conveniently blank but his bruising grip at my hip is betraying him.

“I hate to share you with others.”

“You’ll survive.” I kiss his jaw and take immense pleasure when the muscle jumps under my lips.

After that, Damian briskly cuts the conversation short and starts hauling me toward the exit.

“You’re going to pay for that.”

“Give me what I want and I’ll give you what you want. That’s our deal.” I tell him while my heart is beating out of my chest.

“And what is it you want?” he asks without stopping.

“Freedom.” That brings him to a halt. “Not from you. Because that’s impossible as you explained. I meant freedom from my cage. I want to start living again.”

He stares down at me like he is deciphering the unspoken words I didn’t voice. I’m done living like his prisoner. And he will have to yield because he knows I’m fragile after his revelation about our marriage and my dad.

He looms over me. “You want something, you come to me.” He grinds out. “Twist my arm in public again, and you’ll regret it.” The void in his dark gaze amplifies the menace in his words, turning his every utterance into a potent threat.

“Fine.” I stare back even when my legs shake. “Now take me home. I’m tired.”

Clutching my hand, he resumes walking.

We are near the exit when suddenly the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The feeling compels me to turn my head and I find myself staring at the man with blue eyes. The same man who’d spent the entirety of his speech staring at me earlier.

He is surrounded by three beautiful women, all showering him with admiring glances but his attention firmly remains on me. His eyes never stop tracking me until I’m out of view.

That was… odd , I think to myself as Damian helps me in the limo before climbing in himself.

◆◆◆

I run inside the mansion as soon as the limo comes to a stop. Damian doesn’t stop me. Doesn’t call out my name as I hear him climbing out of the car, my heart thudding when the car door is shut.

It’s hard not to notice that there’s no one in the mansion. I can’t help but wonder if this is Damian’s doing, clearing the mansion of all prying eyes and ears for us. My face heats up when I remember he used to do just that after returning from his work trips.

During those times, Damian didn’t want anyone around because he loved engaging in the bedroom activity with me in every corner of the mansion.

I start in the direction of the kitchen. My pulse quickens, echoing the erratic beat of my heart.

I’m going to sleep with my husband. The knowledge sends shivers down my spine.

I swing open the refrigerator door. My eyes scan the shelves until they land on a bottle of water. Grasping it, I twist the cap open, the sound breaking the silence of the kitchen.

The first sip is like a lifeline, the cool water soothing my parched throat. I relish the sensation, closing my eyes briefly.

As I lower the bottle and close the fridge door, I sense his presence.

Refusing to show him my nervousness, I turn defiantly, ready to show him a fake confident smile. But the smile dies instantly. Gone by the sight of his tall frame shadowing the kitchen doorway.

“Thirsty?” his silky-smooth voice mocks.

My breathing stutters in my lungs. I close my eyes, feeling the heat spread through me, then open them again, trying to calm my heart. But it’s useless—just the sight of him has me aching, my body already ready for what’s coming.

Damian stands there, leaning against the frame of the kitchen. One side of his jacket is pushed aside, his hand thrusted in his pocket, as he watches me lose control of my body with grim satisfaction.

I grip the counter as he pushes off the frame and strides purposefully toward me. The dark desire in his eyes sends my insides into a tight spiral spin.

God! Please help me. I want him to devour me but at the same time I want to run away.

The silence eats at me. So does the heightened tension when he stops in front of me. Why does he have to be so intimidatingly tall? And big? I chew on my lower lip as I stare at the hard angles of his face.

“Are you going to fuck me here?” I murmur, sucking in a breath.

“Do you want me to?”

I can’t help but remember the times when he did fuck me in here. My legs tremble as I stare at my gloriously magnificent but ruthless husband. He is playing with me. Purposefully teasing my senses before he can do anything to me. I lick my suddenly dry lips. “Don’t torture me.”

“But you deserve it, angel.” He pulls me into his arms. I gasp. He dips his head and catches my parted mouth with his. My eyes widen then slides shut, giving in. I sway closer to his heat, my hands clutching the lapels of his jacket.

He deepens the kiss and I let him. Because I am done fighting. I take what he gives me. Because I want it. I want it so much it aches. My entire body trembles with a mere kiss from him.

My arms snake up and locks around his neck as his tongue slides along mine with shameless passion. He kisses me until we are both breathing heavily. Then he groans before breaking the kiss. “Now you taste like mine.”

Yeah. Because I gave in. “Well, sex was always spectacular between us.” I remind him and myself that this is nothing but sex. We will have sex. We won’t be making love like I used to think in the past. Because I know I’m married to a man who can never love me.

He bends and scoops me up into his arms. I cry out, clutching at his neck.

He carries me to our bedroom.

Gently laying me down in the center of our bed, he stands towering over me. “You are mine.”

I say nothing.

“Every fiber of your being will scream ‘I’m yours’ by the time I’m through with you, angel.”

“You sure about that?” I ask but cry out in surprise when he grips my legs and yanks me forward until I’m flat on my back. And before I know it, my wrists are held above my head in a steel like hold as he looms over me.

The look in his eyes makes me wetter than I was. And I have been wet since he chased me at the gala and kissed me stupid.

“I’m not scared of you, Damian,” I breathe. Stop torturing me and kiss me already! I tell him with my eyes.

As if he can read my thought, he arches his brows. Is he going to make me confess it out loud? My heart begins thumping. Well, he and his hot body can get lost. I want him. Too much. Probably more than air. But I am not going to let him walk all over me again.

“Let me g—” He sweeps down and cut the words off with another one of his demanding kisses. I moan in relief against his lips, my body spreading, melting under him.

Still pinning me to the mattress with one hand securing my wrists, he uses the other to lift my gown.

I wiggle my hands until he loosens his grip. I use that opportunity to tug them completely free and shove them under his jacket and push it off his broad shoulders. I throw the expensive jacket carelessly away without breaking the kiss.

Then I tear at his bow tie, halting briefly when he yanks me up in a sitting position. The sharp sound of the zipper pierces the air a second before his calloused hand touches my naked back. I shiver and gasp, breaking the kiss. He nips at my jaw then moves toward my neck.

My eyes roll back in my head as his rough kisses travel around my throat and collarbone. Throwing the bow tie, I tilt my head back, giving him access. Moaning and whimpering, I let him devour my neck. Then become hungry for my own share so I lean back to kiss his jaw. Once, then twice. Before I can kiss him for the third time, I find myself on my back on the mattress and being kissed within an inch of my life. He pushes my legs apart, bunching the gown to my waist as he moves between them.

He grinds his hardness against me and we both groan. “It’s been too fucking long,” he tips his head up as he grinds against my soaked panties again.

I reach up and touch his face. My heart beats harder when he turns his face and kisses my palm. I stare at him, my breathing shallow. He looks down, his eyes appear more darker as his gaze moves over me like a hot caress. “You’re fucking beautiful.”

Something moves in my chest. I grab his hair and pull his face down. I kiss him earnestly. With an enthusiasm of a starving woman. Framing his face with my small hands, I feel so feminine, so tiny beneath this powerful man.

I’ve just locked my legs around his hips when suddenly there’s a knock at our bedroom door.

“Sir?” The muffled voice is of Hal.

Damian lifts his head and we both stare at each other. “Guess Hal is never off duty,” I mumble, unable to hide my disappointment.

“He won’t disturb unless it’s absolutely necessary.” He kisses my forehead before pushing himself off me but then stops.

When he keeps staring down at me, I frown. “What?”

He doesn’t say anything, simply runs his fingers over my naked thighs and down my legs that are still wrapped around him. “Oh.” I quickly release him and right my gown. I move to sit when he shoves me back. “Stay there. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Then he’s gone. Before he can shut the door behind him, I hear his hard voice snapping, “This better be fucking important.”

I lie there like an obedient little wife for a good ten seconds before jerking up in a sitting position. Hugging the dress to my chest, I frown. He can’t order me around.

I get up on wobbly legs and head to the bathroom. The days of me waiting for him are long gone. Now, we are going to switch roles. Now, he’ll wait for me if he wants me.

◆◆◆

I don’t remember falling asleep but Damian wasn’t in bed when I woke up the next morning. Which wasn’t uncommon.

But when I pressed my palm against his side of the bed, the cool and unwrinkled sheets told me he never came back to bed last night.

The anger rose at the thought of him working all night in his home office. I was frustrated. Damian had me all hot and bothered and just left. For a second, I contemplated touching myself to relieve some tension but quickly changed my mind.

If he can survive without having me then so can I.

After a quick shower, I got dressed in a cozy gray cashmere turtleneck sweater, paired with dark tailored trousers and went looking for him.

The moment I got out of the bedroom, I unexpectedly found a tall, formidable woman standing there dressed in a tailored black suit. A commanding figure, towering at an impressive 5’10”. Her hazel eyes met mine, sharp and observant. Her short, jet-black hair framed a face marked with a few subtle scars and her sun-kissed complexion only added to the raw beauty of her features.

“Mrs. Montgomery, I’m Vicky Paulsen, your new personal bodyguard,” she introduced herself, her voice calm and collected.

“Oh, okay. Well, Damian didn’t tell me about this.”

“Mr. Montgomery is currently on a business trip, and I’m here to provide dedicated security in his absence. If there’s anything specific you’d like to know or discuss, feel free to ask. Your safety is my top priority.”

All I managed to grasp from her words was that Damian was gone. “I’m sorry, business trip?”

She nodded. “He had to go away for an urgent business trip last night. He didn’t want to wake you up, that’s why he went unannounced,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Chief accompanied him.”

“Chief?”

“Hal,” she explained. “He is the chief of security.”

My brows raised, I never heard anyone addressing him as chief before.

“Where?”

“Dubai, I believe,” She informed. I processed the information.

“A business trip to Dubai? I wasn’t aware,” I admitted. I was never his first priority, My mind echoed with the bitter recognition that, once again, I found myself taking second place to his work.

It wasn’t the first time, but his sudden departure to Dubai, unannounced, struck a chord of resentment within me. It just proved that my place in his life was often an afterthought, something that held no importance, something he could manage according to his busy schedule.

I didn’t let the gloomy thought distract me. This was good. His absence gave me opportunities to plan my escape. “Will you be leaving once Damian returns?” I asked casually.

“No, Mrs. Montgomery. I’ll be here for as long as needed. Mr. Montgomery regards your safety with the utmost priority. Even when he returns, I’ll continue to ensure your security. If there are any adjustments or specific preferences you have regarding my presence, please let me know. Your comfort and safety are of the highest importance.”

“Okay. Thank you and please call me River.”

“I can’t,” She gave me a small smile to soften the blow then followed me down and kept guard while I had my breakfast.

I figured I might as well make good use of my time without Damian, so I got in touch with Catherine, the hostess from last night’s fundraiser, and a couple of her friends to invite them for lunch. This was the perfect opportunity to discuss volunteer work.

It was also the very first time I invited someone over. This was uncommon as my marriage was pretty much a prison sentence with no contact with the outside world. And to think, Damian did it in a way, distanced me from everyone so subtly that I didn’t even blame him for my anti-social life. And while I always preferred solitude all my life, I couldn’t help but crave human connection.

I was pleasantly surprised when they expressed the desire to meet today and subtly hinted at exploring the highly guarded lair of Damian Montgomery—an exceedingly private and immensely successful multi-billionaire, whose elusive nature has added to the mystique surrounding him. Their words.

I understood their fascination with Damian and his secretive life. After all, we hadn’t opted for the traditional route when it came to tying the knot. Instead of a grand ceremony, we got married in a registrar’s office.

I wasn’t in the state of celebrating because of what happened with dad. And given Damian’s busy schedule, we never found the time for a lavish celebration.

Hence, nobody really got to meet his new bride. It was for the best. The secrecy was needed to shield our private lives from all the unwanted attention. But it all imploded when the paparazzi caught the wind of it.

Nothing stopped the tabloids from seizing the opportunity to speculate and create narratives. They used the fact that I had married at the age of twenty-one, with Damian being ten years my senior, as fodder for sensational stories. The headlines about our relationship were downright filthy, demeaning it as some kind of scandalous affair.

For months, the Gibson vs. Montgomery saga dominated news channels, transforming our private decisions into a public spectacle.

It was a nightmare. The media circus not only scrutinized my choices but also pitied my dad and didn’t hesitate to question my upbringing. It was so horrible. I was so ashamed. I had ruined the reputation he had built over the decades in just a matter of seconds.

So… these ladies weren’t jumping at the opportunity to meet me and discuss volunteering like they were last night. They just wanted a closeup view at my scandalous life. But so what? I was going to benefit from them as well. They can have their tour of my gilded cage and I can have what I want.

I changed into an ivory long sleeve tweed mini dress paired with sleek designer heels. A delicate gold chain adorned my neck, with a small pendant. On my wrist, a slender bracelet and a classic watch added a subtle glimmer. And the pair of diamond stud earrings completed my look.

Throughout the time I was getting ready, Vicky stayed with me. I told her about my guests coming over for lunch and she simply nodded. I wonder if she reported it to Damian. Even if she did, I am not scared of him anymore.

“They are here, ma’am.” One of the guards inform us. Taking a deep breath, I give myself one last look in the mirror before venturing out of the bedroom with Vicky following right behind. Time to shelve my introverted nature and embrace the role of the perfect hostess.

As I step into the sitting area, a smile graces my lips, concealing the nervousness within. “Thank you all for coming.”

Time flies as we begin with the extensive tour of the property. They soak it all up, asking questions about the paintings and antiques they come across. Vicky keeps a safe distance while following me around.

When it’s time for lunch, I ask Vicky to join us but she politely declines. After the satisfying lunch, we adjourn to a more intimate and secluded part of the mansion to delve into the discussion about charity work.

“River, darling, we were truly impressed by your husband’s generosity at the fundraiser. But then it’s not the first time Damian has made such substantial donations. I’m genuinely curious to know what inspired your shift toward philanthropy.”

They’re insinuating that I’m just jumping on the bandwagon. I wish they knew how much I’ve yearned to make a difference, to have a say. It’s not that I didn’t care; I just didn’t have the means.

They have no idea how powerless I’ve felt throughout my marriage. It’s not like I had control over our financial decisions. Damian held all the cards.

I meet their gazes with a small smile. “I want to make a meaningful impact, without my resources. As you mentioned, Damian already has that area covered. I want to volunteer. I’ve been considering various causes, but I value your insights.”

Donna with dark hair, suggests, “How about supporting local animal shelters or wildlife conservation efforts? It’s a cause close to my heart, and there’s always a need for volunteers.”

A genuine smile lifts the corner of my lips. It reminds me of the day when Summer found Goldie abandoned near her apartment building. She had considered dropping him off at the local shelter but ended up adopting him.

I feel twinge in my heart when I think of them. I miss them so much. I don’t know when I’ll get to see them again.

Sharon, the middle-aged businesswoman and one of Catherine’s best friends, proposes, “Environmental conservation is a pressing issue. I am a partner with organizations dedicated to sustainability and eco-friendly initiatives. I can talk to them for you.”

Then Andrea interrupts by debating about education sector. I ponder their suggestions. “I love all these ideas. Perhaps I can focus on a rotating schedule, supporting different causes throughout the year.”

The ladies continue their lively discussion, now weaving mental health into it. I sit straighter. “What about programs that support mental health? It’s an area often overlooked, and I believe it’s crucial.”

Catherine nods. “There are many campaigns promoting mental health awareness.”

Andrea pulls out her phone. “Even online. I’ll show you.”

After a few minutes of her showing us the pages on social medias, I say, “Yeah, but I want to get out of the house. I want to actively contribute to the cause.”

Donna adds, “Perhaps we can organize workshops or events that focus on stress management and mental wellness and therapy. We can invest the funds and you can help planning it maybe.”

Before I could answer to her superb idea, Catherine interrupts, “Speaking of therapy. There’s a community center that offers art therapy sessions for mental health. You could lend your support and help it grow.”

I’m intrigued. “Art therapy? That sounds wonderful. How can I get involved?”

“The organizer visited me yesterday. She’s been struggling to secure funding for additional art supplies and professional therapists. I agreed to help her, of course. But she needs more volunteers.”

“River, my dear, why don’t you visit the community center first and assess the situation? As this is fairly new and operates on a small scale it wouldn’t be that intimidating. They can handle the initial logistics, and once you’re more familiar with the project, they can coordinate your efforts more efficiently.”

I nod in agreement and feeling excited about this new chapter of my life. “That sounds like a good plan. I’ll visit the center and see how I can best support them.”