CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER  4

 

 

(DAMIAN POV)

 

 

I was standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror in my bedroom,

My hands absently buttoning my shirt while staring back at my dull reflection.

 

 

In the following second, my phone trembled on my hand, I stopped to glance at the screen.

 

 

 The name flashing on it, was Victor, my personal secretary.

 

I swiped to answer, lifting the phone to my ear.

 

 

“Victor,”

 

I called, my voice low but steady.

 

“Morning sir,” Victor greeted.

 

 

“I’ve just spoken with the legal team. The hostile takeover attempt by Ashcroft Holdings is more aggressive than we anticipated.

 They’ve managed to sway two of the board members Keller and Stokes.”

 

I stiffened, my hand pausing mid-button.

 

 “Keller and Stokes? I expected Keller to cave, but Stokes…”

My voice ttrailed off, my free hand running through my hair.

 

“So what’s their angle now?”

 

“Money, of course,”

 

Victor intoned bitterly.

 

“Ashcroft promised them lucrative buyouts. We’re trying to pull them back, but it’s going to cost us.”

 

I exhaled sharply, allowing my gaze fall on the ornate woodwork of the ceiling.

 

 

“And the rest of the board…what about them?”

 

“They’re holding firm, for now,”

 

 Victor replied.

 

 “But we can’t afford any more defections. If Ashcroft secures another key member, it could tip the scales entirely.”

 

“Then make sure it doesn’t happen,” I stressed firmly.

 

 

 “Double whatever Ashcroft is offering. Remind them what loyalty means at Blackwood Enterprises. And keep me updated on Keller and Stokes. I want to know every move they make.”

 

“Understood, sir. I’ll report back once I’ve spoken to them again.”

 

“Good. Don’t let me down, Victor.”

 

 I added before ending the call without waiting for a response, then I tossed the phone onto the bed with more force than necessary.

 

 

 

 

 

I turned back to the mirror, resuming the task of buttoning my shirt.

 

But my fingers started to slow as my mind wandered on its own back  to the events of the previous night.

 

 

 

The image of that girl’s face…. Remarkably attractive, innocent, and slightly blurred by the haze of alcohol.

 

 

I exhaled deeply,

 running a hand over my face, grinding my teeth as I returned my face to my  reflection.

 

What have you done, Damian?

 

The question echoed in my mind, a relentless, accusing whisper.

 

 

 I was now replaying the scenes bit by bit,

the way her lips had parted, the warmth of her body pressed against mine.

 

We were both drunk, that was quite clear.

 

But the blood-stained sheets had told a story I wasn’t prepared to face.

 

Had I taken her virginity? Worse still,  had I done it without her full consent? Could this be called rape?

 

I turned away from the mirror, moving weakly to the edge of the bed and sinking down onto it.

 

 

My elbows rested on my knees as I buried my face in my hands, trying to make sense of it all.

 

 

 

Shame coiled in my chest like a serpent, its grip on me tightening with each passing second.

 

 

 

I had left her there. I had not even looked at her face properly before sneaking out like a coward.

 

 

 I could still remember her sleeping form in my mind, her dark hair fanned out against the pillow.

her features peaceful not knowing what was laying in wait.

 

What if she woke up and called me a rapist? The thought brought instant discomfort to my stomach.

 

 

 The press would have a field day, and my enemies at Blackwood would seize the opportunity to destroy me completely.

 

 

But what if she didn’t see it that way? What if she just needed to know who I was, to understand what had happened?

 

I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face before letting it fall again.

 

 

My parents hadn’t raised me to be this man…

someone who took and ran, leaving chaos in his wake.

 

 I had to do something.

 

The bartender. He had her number.

 

 I remembered seeing it scribbled on the receipt with her drink orders. And her name…

 

“Alina,”

 

 I whispered, the word heavy on my tongue.

 

 

 

 

I sat up straight again, nodding to myself as a plan began to form.

 

 I would call her. I would gauge her reaction, figure out what she thought of me and the night we had  shared.

 

 If she hated me, I would then know how to quickly handle  the fallout.

 

 But if there was even a sliver of hope for redemption…then much better.

 

I rubbed my chin, the motion slow and deliberate, as I nodded again.

 

 Yes. This was the only way forward.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Later that morning I had moved over to my expansive sitting room, taking a sit on one of the armchairs, my fingers drumming lightly against the phone in my hand.

 

 

I was now wearing a  white button-up shirt with rolled sleeves and dark jeans, it was less formal, less casual.

 

 

 

 

The bartender….Joe, or something like that, had not disappointed, he had returned back to me with feedback after I called earlier.

 

 

Her number was there on the receipt from last night he forwarded, handwritten beneath the total in a neat, rounded script.

 

 

“ Alina’”

 

Even thinking about her name stirred this strange, unwelcome tightness in my chest.

 

I had spent the last half hour trying to compose myself, but my nerves were like taut wires threatening to snap and dissolve.

 

 

 “What could I even say to her? Sorry for taking something precious to you and sneaking out before you woke?”

 

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, letting the breath leave me in a measured exhale.

 

“ No more stalling”

 

I finally dialed the number.

 

Each consequent ring felt like a countdown,

Just as I was about to hang up, the line clicked, and her voice came through.

 

"Hello?"

 

Her tone was tentative, wary, and there was a slight crack in it that made my guilt return.

 

I closed my eyes again, steadying myself.

 

"Alina."

 

Silence stretched between us, tense and heavy, before she finally spoke again, her voice sharp with genuine confusion.

 

"Who is this?"

 

I hesitated, my hand holding the phone tighter.

 

 

"It's Damian," I said softly, leaning forward and adjusting on my seat.

 

 

"We… met last night."

 

Her sharp intake of breath came through the line, and I could almost picture her stiffening.

 

 

"What do you want?" Her voice was tight now, and I couldn’t tell if it was anger, fear, or both.

 

"Look…I wanted to apologize,"

 

 

I said carefully, choosing each word with care.

 

"For what happened last night. I know you must be feeling… unsettled, and I take full responsibility for that. If you’re willing, I’d like to meet and talk properly. Face-to-face."

 

There was silence again, but this time it felt different, less charged, more hesitant.

 

 

I could almost hear the gears turning in her mind. Five seconds passed, each one stretching longer than the last.

 

"I don’t know…" she finally responded, the uncertainty obvious in her voice.

 

"Please,"

 

I pressed further,my tone pleading.

 

 

 "I think it’s important that we talk”

 

Another pause ensued, and then, to my immense relief, she breathe out again before blurting out the word.

 

 "Fine,"

 

However, there was no warmth in her tone.

 

A small, satisfied smile touched my lips.

It was progress all the same.

 

 

"Thank you,"

 

 I said earnestly.

 

 "There’s a restaurant downtown"

 

I started to describe it, but midway through I stopped, realizing how cold and transactional it sounded.

 

I rubbed the back of my neck as i cut off the sentence.

 

"Actually… never mind. I should be the one making this easier for you. Give me your house address, and I’ll come to you."