Damien POV:
I went to Xavier's company to discuss something important with him.
When I arrived, he was still in a board meeting, so I let myself into his office and sat on the edge of his desk.
Honestly, the man was juggling two identities—CEO by day, mafia king by night.
But he had no choice.
He made a vow, one that could never be broken… at least, not easily.
The door pushed open, and Xavier walked in, dressed elegantly in a fitted black suit.
"What's up?" he asked casually as he entered.
"I have something I want to discuss with you," I said.
He didn't respond. Instead, he reached for a pack of cigarettes, lit one, and walked to the couch near the window.
Crossing his legs, he took a slow drag.
"I'm listening," he said, smoke curling from his lips.
"You might not like what I'm about to say," I warned.
"Then don't say it," he replied, sounding utterly uninterested.
I ignored him.
"It's about your pink-headed pony."
He remained silent for a moment.
"I hope it's not what I'm thinking."
"Oh no, it's not," I lied, trying to provoke him a little.
His next response made me want to throw my shoe at him.
"Just keep it to yourself. I'm not interested."
"Gosh, man—you are damn frustrating," I snapped, but he didn't even blink.
"She really needs your help," I added.
He finally looked at me.
"And I already told her I won't."
He stood up and started toward the door.
"If you don't help her, your secret identity will be exposed sooner or later," I said, casually examining my nails.
He stopped, turning his head slightly.
"Is that a threat?" he asked, eyes locked on me with that intense stare of his.
I continued picking my nails, ignoring the murderous glare.
God, we'd been friends since childhood, and I still wasn't used to those eyes.
If he ever starred in a horror movie, he wouldn't need special effects—he naturally had all the nightmare fuel required.
He walked back toward me.
"Are you going to talk or not?" he asked, now standing right in front of me.
I looked up into his eyes.
"I thought you said you weren't interested."
His jaw tightened.
His expression darkened, annoyance flashing across his face. He sighed, exasperated.
"Fine. I'm listening, Damien."
"Now you're talking." I patted his arm. "What do you think about Scarlett's father's death?"
"It's obvious she was framed."
"And why do you think someone would want to frame her?"
"Because she's weak and gullible," he replied, voice cold as ice.
"Really, Xavier? Seriously?" I muttered.
What an asshole.
"Just get straight to the damn point," he snapped.
I stared at him for a moment before delivering the real reason I came.
"If you accept helping her, you'll remove two problems off your plate."
"And those are?"
"One—whoever sent you that email is obviously the killer. That person knows your true identity. If they can't pin the blame on her anymore, they'll come after you next."
My words didn't seem to affect him at all.
Typical.
"Just help her catch the damn killer and protect yourself from being exposed."
He didn't respond immediately, just stood there, processing.
"Tell me the second one," he said. "Maybe then I'll consider it."
First, tell me what you think about what I just said."
He smirked.
"Which do you think is faster—news of my identity leaking, or me retracting it?"
I sighed in frustration. Xavier had a way of twisting everything into a game.
If it wasn't his icy demeanor, it was the way he played with words.
"Secondly," I continued, "your grandma's been on your case about getting married…"
At that, his eyes widened.
"Are you crazy?" he cut in, his tone sharp.
"Let me finish before you call me crazy." I held up a hand. "The marriage doesn't have to be real. It'll be a fake cult wedding."
Xavier's grandmother was the only family he had left. His parents' tragic deaths were a wound he never spoke of.
He loved her more than anything.
"It's a win-win for you. Stay with her for three months, help her out, and that's it."
He didn't say anything for a long while.
He snuffed out his cigarette, placing it in the ashtray with the same cold precision he did everything else, then walked out without another word.
I smiled to myself.
I wouldn't have to chase after him. My words had done the job.
Xavier's POV:
I drove through the chaotic streets of New York, heading toward my secret mansion. The roads eventually cleared as I turned onto an empty, deserted stretch.
Giving my EarPod a light tap, I spoke.
"Is it clear?"
"Yes, sir," my bodyguard's voice crackled through.
With that, I sped off.
When I reached home, all I wanted was a hot shower, my pills, then some rest. I was exhausted, mentally and physically.
But when I walked into my bedroom, I saw her—my little pony—sitting on the floor, leaning against my door.
What the hell is she doing here?
This girl was a pain in the ass. I had no idea what to do with her anymore.
I nudged her with my foot, and her eyes shot open, wide and startled, like she had just seen a ghost.
"What are you doing here?" She asked, baffled.
She looked up at me, then quickly scanned the room.
"I should be asking you that, not the other way around," I said, irritation creeping into my voice.
She stood up quickly, an awkward smile curling on her lips.
"I'm so sorry, sir. I didn't want to upset you by going into your room without permission, so I decided to wait here."
"Hmm. Wait, instead of sleeping?" I muttered, stepping around her and into the room.
Taking a deep breath I said "If you're coming in, then come in. If not, get out of the way."
In the next second, she was already standing beside me.
This girl was going to be the death of me.
"What do you want from me?" I asked, my voice colder than I intended.
A bright smile formed on her lips, and her amber eyes lit up.
Then, she started talking—about her ex, her best friend, her father's murder, and everything in between. She spilled it all like a flood.
"So, you want revenge," I said, summarizing her entire monologue.
"Yes, sir… so, are you willing to help me?" she asked, hopeful.
I leaned back in my chair, studying her for a long moment.
"Maybe… but I don't think so."
Her face fell.
"Sir, please. I'll do anything."
I leaned forward, my smirk returning.
"Anything?"
"Yes, sir."
"Hm. Behave for now, and I'll consider it."
The brightest smile I'd ever seen spread across her face. She practically skipped toward the door, then paused before leaving.
"But sir, you haven't told me what you want in return."
I looked at her, my expression unreadable.
"You'll find out soon."