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Nothing But an Outsider
Last Updated:
2025-10-29 18:28:39
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Damien's Willing Captive A Toast to Family Drama
Damien's POV The scream split the room like a thrown glass. Mrs. Osmond came crashing through the double doors in a storm of satin and screeching pearls, hair wild, mascara streaked into war paint. Her voice tore across the chandeliers: “Carlos! You scum! How dare you…on our daughter’s birthday? On our bed?!” She stamped like a woman carving a new history with every step. The room convulsed. Conversations hiccupped into silence, then rose into a howl. Forks clattered. Someone knocked over a flute; it shattered into high, accusing notes. People clustered like frightened birds, necks craning for the show. Carlos stood like a man half-dressed for confession: his belt still undone, his shirt rumpled, tie loosened as if someone had tried to drag gravity back into him and failed. He looked small in the open light, staggering as if each breath cost more than the last. There was a slow, ridiculous slant to his stance…the way an old horse rocks when it’s had too much work and not
Damien's Willing Captive Think You Can Play The Player?
Damien's POV I moved down the length of the hall until the noise blurred into wallpaper…faces, laughter, clinking glass…until I found the shadowed end and folded myself into it. One shoulder pressed to marble, wrist angled so I could check the watch every three seconds without looking like I was trying too hard. Jaxon was late. Not supposed to be. What is keeping him? My eyes caught on one of the corporate big shots across the room. He lifted his hand in a friendly little wave, like we were old pals. I answered with a lazy two-finger salute and a smile so fake it should’ve come gift-wrapped, then turned my back on him without a second thought. For the love of God, what part of "not interested" can't people read? I hadn't even finished the thought before she materialised…too bright, too polished, a perfume train that could choke a saint. Her satin dress clung like a rumor. Heels that announced her like a marching brand. She smiled like she owed the world money and was pa
Damien's Willing Captive For Old Times
Damien’s POV Just as I was jubilating inside my head, already picturing the expression on Isabella’s face when she saw those photos of Ariana and Jace Salvador holding hands, the bastard leaned sideways and whispered something into Osmond’s ear. It was like watching a storm ripple across a man’s face. Osmond’s grin froze, his jaw ticked, and then his eyes darted from his daughter to Jace with a flicker of pure irritation. The room held its breath as everyone watched. He cleared his throat, smoothed his lapel, and puffed his chest like a goddamn rooster before taking the mic again. “Ladies and gentlemen…” Osmond’s voice boomed, that politician’s charm coating every syllable. “Seems there’s been…ah…a little mix-up.” The crowd shifted, curious murmurs rising like smoke. “This handsome young man here has clarified that they are not officially”....he lifted his fingers, making exaggerated air quotes…“engaged. No, no, no. They are just… working things out.” Gasps, chuckles
Damien's Willing Captive The Unexpected Player
Damien's POV The car hummed through the streets, and Jaxon finally broke the silence. “Boss… what’s going on in that head of yours? Seriously. You’ve been muttering to yourself ever since we left the monastery. What's the plan?” “The plan…” My voice faded, my mind snagging on the endless web of possibilities that refused to fall neatly into place. Jaxon let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Olivia… I was thinking… What if she’s a spy herself? What if she's been playing us all along? What if she's the enemy?” I raised an eyebrow, chuckling softly. “You really think that?” “I mean… What else could it be? After everything we’ve uncovered, it’s the only theory that fits,” he muttered, knuckles whitening as his grip tightened on the wheel. I chuckled again, louder this time, the sound sharp with disbelief. “No, Jaxon. No. That’s impossible. Olivia… She saved my life. Literally. Do you remember the casino clash or have you forgotten so soon? That day I thought
Damien's Willing Captive In Plain Sight
Damien's POV Before long, we rolled into Churchill Street. It wasn’t like the estates near my penthouse…the kind of streets where the trees were groomed, the lampposts ornate, and the air smelled faintly of privilege. No. Churchill Street was ordinary. The kind of street where life moved at its own pace, the kind where neighbors waved to each other, where kids on bikes squealed past parked cars, and the occasional dog barked at anything that moved. Apartment blocks rose modestly on either side, their paint peeling in places, balconies crowded with potted plants or laundry flapping in the breeze. It was…real. Harshly real compared to my polished world. Jaxon slowed in front of a narrow, beige apartment building. I didn’t wait for him to climb down before I did. “Drag her out here,” I said sharply, leaning against the car, letting the street absorb my presence. My phone buzzed in my hand, but I ignored it, scrolling through business news with a practiced disinterest unti
Damien's Willing Captive In Search of The Truth
Damien’s POV The water ran hot and hard, steady against my shoulders like a hand that would shake me awake. Steam wrapped the bathroom in a soft haze, but it couldn't fog what was already prying at the edges of my mind. I let the spray hit my back and tried to think of nothing…of the party I had to attend, of the Osmonds’ wine list, of the polite smiles I’d wear like armor. But thoughts have a way of finding the soft spot. Isabella. Cleo said it bluntly…Isabella leaked the file. The maid swore she saw her. Even Olivia, of all people, suddenly swore she’s sure Isabella did it. It fits on paper: testimony, a name, motive. But the paper didn't account for the rhythms beneath the facts…timing, tone, the spin of desperation that makes people point fingers to hide their own. What do I actually know about all this? I closed my eyes and let the water map the lines of my face. Before now Olivia had been convinced it was Cleo…too obvious, too clean. Cleo had reasons, resentment
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