How dare you accused me of being a pervert ?

Damian’s POV

They’ve called me many things, the vultures who circled my father’s empire even before his breath hitched its last. Cold. Calculating. A predator draped in Savile Row. They weren’t wrong. Emotions were a weakness, a liability in the brutal game of acquisitions and power I played. People were pawns, easily moved, readily sacrificed. And women? Exquisite diversions, fleeting pleasures that held my attention for as long as their novelty lasted – which was rarely long.

Then she walked into my carefully orchestrated world, a storm in a deceptively fragile teacup.

Ava Sinclair.

Just the sound of her name now sent a tremor of something dark and volatile through me. My fists were clenched so tightly that the sharp edges of my manicured nails dug crescents into my palms, a thin line of crimson welling beneath the skin. My jaw throbbed, a constant reminder of the primal fury that simmered just beneath the surface. Her voice, that defiant, accusing melody, echoed in the hollow chambers of my skull, a siren’s call leading me not to salvation, but to the jagged rocks of my own inner turmoil.

"You want me to sleep with you, don’t you? That’s the only reason you called me that night. You’re a pervert, Mr. Blackwood!"

The memory of her accusation, hurled with such righteous indignation, ignited a growl deep within my chest, a sound that resonated with the ancient power of my other half. My wolf, usually a silent observer, was now a restless beast pacing the confines of my soul.

"She insulted us," he snarled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through my bones. "She questioned our dominance. Our right."

The rage, a familiar companion, burned hotter, fueled by this unexpected defiance.

"She called us weak."

A red haze threatened to engulf my vision. Weak? Me? Damian Blackwood? I who commanded fortunes with a whispered word, who brought titans of industry to their knees with a strategic glance? I who had clawed my way to the apex of this concrete jungle, leaving a trail of shattered ambitions in my wake?

"She needs to be taught a lesson," my wolf hissed, his teeth bared in a phantom snarl. "She needs to understand the price of such insolence. She needs to bleed for this."

---

Next morning, I spun on my heel, my movements sharp and predatory. My gaze fell upon the crystal tumbler on my mahogany desk, the amber liquid within swirling like liquid gold. In a swift, violent motion, I snatched it and hurled it against the stark white wall. The shattering crash, the splintering of glass, was momentarily satisfying, a small release of the pressure building within. But it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

I stalked the length of my expansive office, the plush Persian rug doing little to muffle the heavy thud of my steps. Each stride was weighted with a barely suppressed violence. My eyes, narrowed and dark, finally settled on the sleek, black intercom system on my desk. My finger jabbed down on the button with brutal force.

"Ava. My office. Now." The command was clipped, devoid of any inflection that might betray the storm raging within me.

The minutes that followed stretched into an eternity, each tick of the antique clock on the mantelpiece amplifying my simmering fury. When the polished oak door finally creaked open, she stood there, framed in the doorway like a defiant silhouette against the muted light of the hallway. Her posture was hesitant, a flicker of apprehension in her wide, expressive eyes. But beneath that tremor of uncertainty, her chin was lifted, that infuriating spark of defiance still burning bright. She thought she was brave. Foolish, naive little Omega. She had no comprehension of the maelstrom she had just unleashed.

Before she could utter a single word, I moved. The distance between us, several feet of polished marble, vanished in two swift, predatory strides. I slammed her back against the cool, unforgiving surface of the wall, the impact stealing the air from her lungs. My hands shot out, seizing both her wrists, pinning them ruthlessly above her head. My body followed, pressing hers firmly against the wall, trapping her.

A sharp gasp escaped her lips, her eyes widening in a mixture of shock and dawning fear.

Good. Let her taste a sliver of the terror she had so carelessly ignited.

"How. Dare. You," I growled, each word a low, lethal threat that vibrated in the confined space between us. My breath ghosted over her face, carrying the scent of my rising anger.

Her breath hitched in her throat, a small, trapped sound. But despite the fear that flickered in her eyes, she didn’t look away. That stubborn spark still refused to be extinguished.

"You accused me of being a pervert? Me?" I leaned in closer, my lips brushing against the delicate curve of her ear, my voice a silken whisper laced with menace. "I could have any woman I wanted, Ava. They line up at my door, eager for a mere glance. Women throw themselves at my feet, begging for my time, my attention, my name."

I pulled back just enough to see her face twist in a flicker of disgust, a reaction that, inexplicably, only served to fuel the dark satisfaction coiling within me.

"And yet you," I spat the word like a venomous curse, "a desperate little Omega drowning in debt, clinging to the tattered remnants of your brother’s recklessness, dare to think I would need to force anything from you?"

A harsh, humorless laugh ripped from my throat, a dark, vicious sound that echoed off the high ceilings, mocking her audacity.

"You insult me," I whispered, letting my breath dance across the sensitive skin of her neck. "You insult my blood. My name. Everything I have built."

A visible shiver ran through her, but still, she held my gaze, that infuriating resilience shining through the fear. Brave little fool. Or perhaps just utterly reckless.

My wolf snarled again, a raw, guttural sound that resonated deep within me. "Break her pride. Shatter that defiance. Show her what it means to defy us."

"Let me make something very clear," I said, my voice dropping to a cold, dangerous monotone. "I don’t want you. I don’t even like you. You are an… inconvenience. But you belong to me now. Do you understand me?"

She tried to shake her head, a small, frantic movement against the wall. Her lips trembled, but no sound escaped. A flicker of understanding, of dawning horror, began to dawn in her eyes. I smirked, a cruel, predatory curve of my lips.

"Your loans. The mountain of debt that threatens to swallow your family whole. Your brother’s gambling habit, the vultures circling his hospital bills. Do you think I didn’t know?"

She froze, her body going rigid against the wall. The last vestiges of color drained from her face, leaving her skin ashen. Beautiful in her terror.

"How do you…?" The question was barely a whisper, choked with disbelief.

"I know everything, Ava. Because I made it my business to know. Every pathetic detail of your insignificant little life."

I leaned in until our faces were mere inches apart, my gaze locking onto hers, unwavering and intense.

"Marry me, Ava. In exchange, I’ll make all your problems disappear. One signature on a piece of paper, and your debts vanish. Your brother gets the best care money can buy. Your precarious little world will be safe."

Her breath caught in her throat. Her lips parted slightly, a silent gasp escaping. Shock, raw and unadulterated, etched every line of her face.

"No way," she breathed, the words barely audible.

I gave her a slow, cruel smirk, the kind that promised pain and retribution. "You don’t have a choice, little wolf. Not anymore."

Her spine stiffened, a fragile attempt at defiance. She knew I was right. I could see the stark realization dawning in her eyes, the understanding that she was trapped.

Finally, the fight seemed to drain out of her. Her shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly. "Fine," she whispered, the word heavy with defeat. "I accept."

A surge of dark triumph hummed in my blood. Victory. Sweet, bitter victory.

"But," she added sharply, her voice suddenly regaining a sliver of its earlier edge, a spark of that infuriating resilience flickering back to life, "I have my own conditions."

I arched a brow, genuinely intrigued by her audacity. "Do enlighten me."