Damian
The steam curled lazily from the mug in my hand as I stared at Molly. She was slumped against the chair in the dimly lit basement, her face swollen and mottled with purple bruises. The faint whimpering that escaped her throat barely registered to me; it was background noise.
She looked pathetic. And yet, this was restraint. If Ariana wasn't here, if I didn't have to maintain the illusion of humanity for her sake, Molly would already be rotting in a ditch.
I flexed my grip on the mug, letting the bitter coffee burn down my throat. "Holding up well, dear Molly?" My tone was flat, casual, as though we were talking about the weather.
She flinched, trembling so hard her chair scraped against the floor. "Ple… ple… please make it stop! Why are you doing this?" Her voice cracked around the sobs.
I tilted my head, my gaze steady and unyielding. "Heard about your little rant to my woman. The confidence you spat in her face. But…" I gestured vaguely at her trembling form. "I don't sense that confidence now."
"I—I'm sorry! I didn't mean it, I swear. I'll apologize to her right now, if you want. Just, just please let me go!" She choked on her tears, her voice a high, shrill wail.
I set the mug down carefully, the ceramic clinking against the table. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, eyes boring into hers. "You'll stay here until you learn to behave. When I decide you've remembered your place, maybe I'll let you crawl out of this room."
Her pleading grew louder, but I'd already turned away. My boots echoed against the concrete as I left her in the dark.
Back in my study, I collapsed into my chair, pressing two fingers against the bridge of my nose. I had been cleaning up Ariana's messes, or rather, cleaning up the messes others created because of her, for weeks now. She didn't know it, of course. She had no idea how many enemies I'd silenced, how many threats I'd neutralized, just to keep her untouched.
She hated me for Molly. She avoided me, locked herself away, her sharp words replaying in my head like poison.
You disgust me, Damian.
The memory stung, more than it should have.
I was Damian Carter. Mafia don. The man who made enemies disappear without a whisper. I shouldn't care about the tears of one woman. And yet, I did. And that weakness was dangerous.
A sharp buzz from my phone dragged me out of the storm in my head. An urgent message blinked across the screen. A meeting overseas. Japan.
Carlos.
Of course. That snake never stayed quiet for long. The board wanted answers after the restaurant fiasco. I didn't give a damn about their politics, but Ariana's name had already been dragged into it. That made it my problem.
I'd be gone for a week. And I wasn't leaving without seeing her.
The knock on Melinda's door was firm, deliberate. Twenty seconds later, the door swung open, and there she was, Ariana.
Her eyes widened slightly when she saw me. She crossed her arms, cocking a brow with more defiance than she probably felt. "Is there anything you need?"
I let my gaze sweep over her slowly, deliberately, from the arch of her brow down to the faint tremble in her hands. "Yeah."
She blinked. "Which is?"
"You."
Her lips parted, but no words came out. She shifted slightly, her weight moving to one side as if to hide her blush. That was all the invitation I needed. My hand closed around her arm, gentle but firm, pulling her out of the maid's wing and into the hall.
She didn't resist. Not really.
In our room, she sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, her eyes tracking every move I made. I crossed the distance between us in slow strides, tilting her chin up with two fingers. I pressed my lips against the curve of her neck, feeling the soft hitch of her breath. She didn't push me away, not at first.
I trailed kisses up her throat, sucking just enough to leave a mark. Her pulse raced under my mouth, betraying her even as her hands stayed frozen at her sides. I brushed my lips along her earlobe, the faintest graze of teeth, before moving to claim her mouth.
That's when she shoved me. Hard.
Caught off guard, I stumbled back a few steps. My eyes snapped up to hers, sharp with surprise. She stood there, frowning, arms crossed tightly over her chest.
"What do you think you're doing?" Her voice was steady, but the redness in her cheeks betrayed the storm inside her.
I smirked, though irritation prickled under my skin. "What do you think I'm doing?"
"Trying to kiss your way into forgiveness," she snapped. "It doesn't work like that, Damian. I already told you, I want to be left alone. If you need me to clean the mansion, I will. But don't play with my emotions."
Her words cut sharper than any blade. For a second, silence stretched between us. Then I let out a low laugh, cold and humorless.
"Molly and I," I began, watching her closely, "were involved once. A long time ago. I was drunk. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I mistook her for someone else. Since then, she's run her mouth, claiming me, flaunting lies like badges. But I didn't touch her intentionally. Not then. Not now."
Her eyes narrowed. "And how do I know you're telling the truth?"
I stepped closer, every inch of me radiating certainty. "Because I am Damian Carter. And I don't do lies."
For a moment, her mask faltered. Doubt wavered in her eyes, but something else flickered there too, something softer, more dangerous.
She swallowed hard. "Why did you bring me here, Damian?"
"I'm leaving for Japan," I said flatly. "A week. Business with Carlos."
Her eyes widened slightly. "Oh." She looked away, voice quieter. "It's fine."
I smiled faintly at her attempt at indifference. "Can I go back now? Melinda's probably wondering where I disappeared to."
"Nice try," I murmured, stepping in close again. My hand slid to her waist, pulling her against me. "But you're staying here. This is your room now. I won't tolerate you hiding in anyone else's bed. In case you're forgetting…" I dipped my head, my lips brushing her ear. "You are mine, baby."
She shivered, though she tried to mask it with a scowl. "Everyone's looking at me weirdly now. It makes me uncomfortable."
Her voice cracked just slightly. That was my cue. I wrapped both arms around her waist and pressed my face against her chest. The warmth of her body seeped into me, chasing away the shadows for the first time in days.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Her hand moved tentatively, fingers brushing through my hair, gentle and unthinking. That tiny act cracked the armor I wore daily.
I shifted, pulling her down onto the bed beside me. She didn't resist. She lay stiff at first, but slowly her body softened against mine. I let my eyes close, exhaustion pulling at me for the first time in weeks.
Sleep claimed me, briefly.
The sharp vibration of my phone on the nightstand shattered the fragile peace. It buzzed once, twice, then again, insistent. Whoever it was, they wouldn't stop.
My hand shot out, fingers wrapping around the device. I didn't answer. Not yet. I just stared at the screen, my jaw tightening.
Because the name flashing across the phone was one that promised blood.
Carlos.
*******
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