Chapter Seven

Present

I bite my lip, fighting tears, as the pain I’d tried to escape comes flooding back. Memories of our past haunt me, and I realize that chasing Damian had been a painful mistake from the start.

The day I ran after him, I unwittingly sealed my fate. I was blindly pursuing a dream, never realizing it would become my worst nightmare. I once thanked the universe for giving me a happy ending, but now I'm left shattered, wondering how something that felt so right could be the beginning of such unbearable pain.

The massive sleek black gates of the mansion slowly slide open and the driver navigates forward in the driveway. My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach as the palm trees lining the driveway comes to view.

I dare not glance to my right, toward Damian. Since he forcibly ushered me into his car, he’s been giving me the cold shoulder.

In the dimly lit back seat, the glow of his phone screen casts a light on his face as he types away, ignoring me. I’d tried to speak to him, to ask the questions swirling in my mind, but he’d remained silent, treating me like a ghost. Defeated, I’d turned my attention to the window, watching the city blur by.

Now, as the car comes to a stop, my stomach twists into knots. The marble walkway leading to the front door is eerily familiar. Memories of me pacing this very path, eagerly awaiting Damian’s return from his work trips, come flooding back. The nostalgia is suffocating and painful.

Memories of my twenty-one-year-old self, dolled up for my husband, now bring only pain. I recall the anguish of waiting for his return, unaware that it would become my life: endless waiting, endless agony.

“Mrs. Montgomery.”

I startle and look up to find Hal peering at me expectantly while holding my door open. His tanned face appears pinched slightly. Even he is pissed at me for running from his ruthless boss.

As Damian’s right-hand man, Hal takes everything personally, and my escape from his team here and in Paris is clearly a betrayal. He’s the one who stalked me through the city’s winding streets, scaring me. Now, his expression makes it clear that he’s angry, not just with me, but with himself for letting me slip through his fingers.

Without taking his offered hand, I climb out. Damian rounds the car and snatches my hand in his. It’s just as well he is dragging me inside because I don’t think I possess the strength to walk back into hell myself.

With each step forward, my stomach contracts painfully. I don’t want to go in there. Being here is inflicting more damage to my soul.

My marriage gave me wealth and luxury, but it took away the one thing I truly wanted: love. The fancy clothes, jewels, and mansion only made me feel emptier. I was surrounded by beauty, but my heart was breaking.

Hal swings open the front door, standing aside as Damian pulls me into the grand foyer. He stops at the center, near the enormous swan centerpiece made of white marble. The chandelier’s light falls over us as we stand facing each other.

“Go to bed, there’s something at work that needs my attention.”

“It’s four in the morning.” The words are out before I can think.

He cocks his eyebrow as he takes a step closer. He cups my cheek tenderly. “You want me to come to bed right now?”

My jaw drops at his clear hint. Before I could set him straight, he continues, “I fired all the staff.” At my stunned silence, he says, “Now I have guards stationed outside as well as inside the property.”

“To babysit me?” We both know I don’t wish to stay here. Just standing here feels like someone has twisted the knife that has been lodged in my chest ever since I ran.

“Something like that. You’re free to do as you please within the house; they won’t interfere.”

“I can leave the house?” I ask sardonically.

When he gives me a warning look, I shake my head and push his hand away. “Thought so. But just for your information, you can’t keep me locked up in here forever.”

“I’m not.”

“But you implied I can’t leave the house.”

He cocks a shoulder, riling me up.

I rub my temples. “I’m not interested in your mind games. What the hell do you mean?”

“You heard me. I told you that they won’t interfere. They won’t stop you from running.” He leisurely unbuttons his suit jacket before taking it off and handing it to Hal. Then continues, “but if you do leave me again, I’ll punish them.”

My eyes go wide. “What?”

He slides his hands in his pockets. “If you ran, they will pay the price.”

I inhale sharply. “Why?”

“Because someone has to bear the consequences.”

I shake my head in part confusion and part fear. “But why would you punish innocent people for my actions? That’s so messed up.”

“So don’t run. Don’t give me a reason to make them and their families suffer.”

His words shock me to the core. I take a step back, gaping. I knew he is a ruthless man. He ruins people who crosses him. But that was in business. He likes to strip people from their power and money and status who cheats him. Sure. He wades into gray territory. Might have crossed legal boundaries in some cases but he wouldn’t harm people. Would he?

“What’s wrong with you?”

He eats up the space between us and cradles my chin in his hand. “You. You’re what’s wrong with me.”

I push him and take a hasty step back. “Don’t you dare put this on me.”

He sighs and glances at his watch.

“You can just leave if you’re getting bored.” It was meant to be a jab but the words come out sounding melancholic.

In the beginning, Damian’s words were sparse but sweet, just enough to satiate my love-starved heart. He’d whisper phrases like “you’re beautiful” or “you drive me crazy” in my ear, and I’d melt into his touch. But after we got married, those tender words disappeared and I was left with a husband who spoke to me in a detached, calculating tone.

Watching him like this, so uninterested, so openly indifferent, hurts. He doesn’t respond. But once again, he invades my personal space and brushes my curls back. He kisses the top of my head and walks away, Hal following.

I stare at his back, pursing my trembling lips. For the first time, I assessed him accurately. He was indeed getting bored. I quietly swipe at the lone tear that slips down my cheek. Why am I being emotional? He is openly treating me as the unwanted wife now. This shouldn’t come as a surprise. But… I shake my head. I won’t dwell on it anymore. Getting out of this situation without harming anyone in the process as he not so subtly threatened is my main motto. It is trickier than I thought but I have to find a way to get out of his hold again.

Sniffling, I start toward the master bedroom but instead of entering I move past it and walk toward the end of the hallway and step into the guest bedroom.

This property has twenty-one bedrooms including the master. If I have to live here, I would prefer to have as much distance as possible between Damian and me.

After a quick shower, I shrug on the fluffy gray bathrobe and fall on the bed. I make a mental note of moving my clothes from the master to this room tomorrow.

Fatigue from the flight then dancing all night with Summer and topping it all with the drama that unfolded at the end wore me out so much that I go to sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

◆◆◆

I was floating. Feeling lighter than water as if earth has tilted on its axis. I grunt in my sleep and move my head, frowning when my cheek presses against something solid instead of the pillow’s softness. “Mm.” I shift slightly, wondering what the warm hard thing against my face is. I nuzzle it and the familiar faint scent pulls me in.

The sound of door opening and then closing fall on my ears. My brain slowly begins working and I blink my eyes open. Damian stares down at me as he carries me further inside what I now see is the master bedroom.

I try to pull back but his arms tighten around me. When he reaches the king-sized bed, he lowers me on it. I immediately scoot back and rub the sleep from my eyes. “What the hell?”

He is not in the black suit anymore. He also got rid of the beard he was sporting, his face now clean shaven. His jet-black hair is wet and hangs over his forehead making him appear younger than his thirty-two years. He is only wearing pajama pants which is riding low on his hips. He is ripped. Damian always had a Greek god body. And he worked out every day to maintain it. I swallow hard as my gaze runs over his defined abs. He is huge. Broad and muscled.

I follow his veiny arm as he reaches up to push his inky strands back. When my eyes meet his, he quirks a brow, making me flush. My face feels hot and I flush some more knowing that Damian can easily see my red face even in the muted lights of the bedroom.

Too embarrassed to speak, I scramble off the bed and start toward the door. His arm wraps around my stomach, stopping me. “Where do you think you are going?”

“The guestroom.”

He effortlessly turns me to face him. Gripping my chin gently, he leans his head down. “Why?”

“I told you I wanted a divorce.”

His eyes darken but other than that his face remains impassive. “And?”

I stare at him, dumbfounded. “And?”

He tucks my unruly hair. “What about it?”

Is he serious? “I don’t wish to share your bed anymore.”

“Is that right?” He buries his nose in my hair and for a moment, for one weak moment I forget everything. My eyes drift close as I nuzzle the base of his throat with my face, my nails digging at his sides. His expensive aftershave makes me dizzy with desire. This feels amazing. Natural. My body recognizes his. It’s demanding what only Damian can give. Carnal pleasure.

I push out a long breath when his arms draw me tighter against him. Familiar tension begins to bloom inside me. The moment Damian’s lips meet the crook of my neck, everything inside me tightens. My thoughts are muddled. I can’t think because every fiber of my being is screaming in need.

I begin to pant and angle my head when he buries his face in my sensitive nook, kissing and nibbling on my neck. Sinking my fingers in his hair, I fist it as he drags his mouth along my throat. His mouth is surprisingly ravenous. Something feels different. Like never before. There’s a new kind of hunger. The kind that has a dangerous, possessive edge to it. In the past, he always appeared to be in control. When it came to sex, Damian never hesitated to take what he wanted. I can’t put my finger on it but something about tonight feels like he is barely hanging on the last threads of his control.

I stifle a moan when his warm breath grazes the shell of my ear. “If I told you to lie on our bed and spread your legs for me, would you do it, angel?”

Before I could utter my consent, I’m lifted off the floor. I squeal and wrap them around his waist. And a second later, we stumble on the bed with me still wrapped around him.

He pulls back and stares at me, searching my face. A strange kind of satisfaction glints in his eyes as he watches me breathless underneath him. “Can’t resist me, can you?”

I tense. I am doing exactly what I swore I wouldn’t. His head begins to descend, clearly to kiss me but I turn my head before his lips could touch mine. “Don’t.”

He stops and props himself on his forearms. I can feel the weight of his gaze on my cheek as he studies me. “What do you mean don’t?”

“I don’t want to sleep with you, Damian.” I finally look at him.

“Well, that’s good because sleep is the last thing on my mind right now.” He goes for my lips again and I put my hand over his mouth.

“I’m not having sex with you.”

“Why not? You clearly want me.” His eyes flicker down and I follow and gasp when I find my robe gaping open, revealing my hard nipples. I pull them shut.

“You’re keeping me against my will. I agreed to it only because we have things to talk about. Me coming back with you doesn’t mean anything . We are still very much over. I still want a divorce.”

His jaw ticks as he rolls over and drops next to me. I gape at him. He listened to me? Just like that? Anyway, I don’t waste time pondering on that and make a move to get up only to be dumped back down by his arm over my chest.

I glare at him.

“My wife’s place is right here. Next to me.”

“But—”

“Don’t be difficult, River.”

I clench my teeth. “This is ridiculous. Why do I have to sleep with you?”

“You heard me.” He throws an arm over his eyes, dismissing me.

“I’m not your wif—” Words get stuck in my throat when he removes his arm to glare at me.

“Go to sleep.”

“You can’t force me.”

“I can and I am.” He goes back to covering his eyes with his arm.

“Domineering jerk,” I mutter under my breath.

“That’s not polite,” he murmurs and adjusts his pants. Naturally, my eyes track his movement. He is hard. Painfully hard.

“I’m not going to have sex with you.” I blurt out.

He sighs. “Relax. I’m not going to fuck you.”

For some reason, I believe him. Just when I’m about to turn on my side, he speaks again. “Not unless you beg me to.”

I turn on a gasp. “I’m never going to beg you to fuck me!”

He turns toward me and props himself on his elbow. “Not only will you beg me to fuck your brains out, but you’ll also beg me to stop.”

My mouth falls open. He reaches over and drops a kiss on my parted lips. “Goodnight, angel,” he says against my mouth before rolling to his side, leaving me flustered.