Two Lines

Chapter 11: Two Lines

My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

I stood in the luxurious marble bathroom of Damien’s penthouse, staring at the unopened pregnancy test box like it was a loaded gun. The ache between my thighs from last night was a constant, filthy reminder of everything we had done. Of how many times Damien had come inside me. Of how desperately I had begged him for it.

*Daddy, please…*

The memory made fresh heat bloom low in my belly even as terror gripped my chest.

I could hear him just outside the door — pacing slowly, his footsteps measured and calm like always. How could he be so composed? I was twenty-four years old, barely out of a toxic three-year relationship with his son, and now I might be carrying his baby.

“Isla.” His deep voice filtered through the door, gentle but commanding. “You don’t have to do this alone. Open the door if you need me.”

“I… I’m okay,” I lied, my voice cracking.

I wasn’t okay.

I tore open the box with trembling fingers and read the instructions twice, even though they were simple. Pee on the stick. Wait three minutes. Two lines meant pregnant. One line meant not.

Simple.

Except nothing about this was simple.

I sat on the toilet and did what I had to do, then placed the test on the counter and washed my hands. I couldn’t look at it. Not yet.

The seconds stretched into eternity.

I hugged my knees to my chest, still wearing nothing but Damien’s oversized black shirt. It smelled like him — dark spice, power, and safety. The same scent that had wrapped around me while he fucked me senseless last night.

A soft knock. “Little one.”

“Come in,” I whispered.

The door opened. Damien filled the doorway, shirtless, wearing only gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips. His eyes immediately found the test on the counter, then moved to me. Without a word, he crossed the space and pulled me into his arms, lifting me onto the counter so I was sitting facing him.

He stood between my legs, hands resting on my thighs, thumbs stroking soothing circles.

“Whatever it says,” he murmured, forehead resting against mine, “we face it together. You’re not alone anymore.”

Tears slipped down my cheeks. “What if it’s positive? What will people say? What will Alex—”

“Alex doesn’t matter.” His voice turned hard for a moment. “This is about you and me. And our baby, if there is one.”

Our baby.

The words sent a strange flutter through my stomach. Part terror, part something warm and dangerously hopeful.

The three-minute timer on my phone went off.

Neither of us moved at first.

Damien kissed my forehead, then reached for the test. He held it between us so we could see it together.

One line.

Negative.

The relief that crashed over me was immediate… followed by an unexpected wave of disappointment.

I let out a shaky breath and buried my face in his neck. “It’s negative.”

Damien’s arms tightened around me. He set the test down and lifted my chin so I had to meet his eyes.

“Are you relieved?” he asked quietly, studying my face.

“I… I think so,” I whispered. “It’s too soon. Everything is too messy. But part of me…” I swallowed hard. “Part of me almost wanted it to be positive.”

A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips. He cupped my face with both hands and kissed me deeply, possessively, like he was sealing something between us.

“I wouldn’t have minded,” he said against my lips. “I want you swollen with my child, Isla. I want everyone to know you’re mine in every possible way.”

The raw honesty in his voice made my core clench. Even after everything last night, I still wanted him.

He must have felt the shift in me because his hands slid under the shirt, gripping my bare ass and pulling me flush against his growing erection.

“You’re sore,” he noted, voice dropping into that velvet gravel tone. “But I can be gentle.”

I shook my head, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I don’t want gentle, Daddy.”

His control snapped.

He lifted me off the counter and carried me back to the bedroom, laying me down on the rumpled sheets. This time there was no teasing, no edging. He stripped off his sweatpants and climbed over me, spreading my legs wide.

He entered me in one smooth thrust.

I gasped at the stretch, still tender from last night, but the slight burn only made it feel better. Damien moved slowly at first, deep and deliberate, eyes locked on mine as he claimed me again.

“Mine,” he growled with every thrust. “Say it.”

“I’m yours, Daddy.”

He rewarded me by picking up the pace, one hand wrapping around my throat possessively while the other pinched my nipple. The mix of pleasure and the faintest edge of pain sent me spiraling fast.

I came hard around him, crying out his name — *Daddy* — as my body shook.

Damien followed soon after, burying himself deep and filling me again. He stayed inside me afterward, holding me close as our breathing slowed.

We stayed like that for a long time — tangled together, his hand stroking my hair, my head on his chest listening to his steady heartbeat.

For the first time since the pool party, I felt something close to peace.

Until his phone rang on the nightstand.

Damien glanced at the screen and his entire body tensed.

“Who is it?” I asked.

He answered without putting it on speaker, but I could still hear the woman’s sharp, elegant voice clearly.

“Damien,” she said coldly. “We need to talk. Now.”

His ex-wife. Elena Voss.

I froze in his arms.

Damien’s hand tightened on my hip, holding me in place. “I’m busy, Elena.”

“Busy with that little whore who used to fuck our son?” Her voice dripped with venom. “The whole city is talking about you two. Have you lost your mind?”

My stomach twisted. I tried to pull away, but Damien wouldn’t let me. He held me tighter against his chest.

“Careful,” he warned, voice ice cold. “You’re speaking about the mother of my future children.”

Elena laughed bitterly. “You’re pathetic. Does she know what kind of man you really are? Does she know what you did—”

Damien hung up on her mid-sentence.

He tossed the phone aside and looked down at me. His expression was calm on the surface, but I could see the storm raging underneath.

“She’s going to cause problems,” he said quietly. “Are you ready for that, little one?”

I swallowed hard, still naked and full of his cum, wrapped in his arms while his ex-wife’s hateful words echoed in my head.

Was I ready?

I thought about the pool. About Alex choosing Bianca. About how invisible I had felt for three years.

Then I thought about how Damien looked at me — like I was the only thing in his world that mattered.

I pressed my face into his neck and whispered, “I’m yours, Daddy. Whatever comes… I’m yours.”

Damien exhaled slowly, like my words gave him something he desperately needed. He rolled us so I was lying on top of him and kissed me slow and deep.

But in the back of my mind, Elena’s voice lingered like poison.

And I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of the war.