Chapter 3

Damien

Power changes people. Sometimes it hardens you slowly until you stop recognizing yourself. Other times, it turns you into exactly what the world feared you would become in the first place.

Two months.

That was how long I had been out of the country handling shipments, negotiations, and problems that couldn't be solved over phone calls. Men feared distance in this business. They thought leaving your territory for too long gave enemies confidence.

They were right. Which was exactly why I came back personally.

Not because of the wedding preparations my mother wouldn't stop talking about. Definitely not because of Vanessa constantly sending venue pictures.

I only came back because there was a deal I needed to finalize myself. A shipment moving through the docks by the end of the week and too much money involved to trust anyone else with it.

The plan after was to check on the operation of my club. Velvet Noir. As the manager has been an asshole with low sales for three consecutive months. What I didn't expect was to see her.

At first, I thought my hallucinations were catching up with me once again. Because there was no way Ariana would be standing in front of me. No way she was alive.

I remembered the fire. The funeral. The empty coffin they buried because there was barely anything left to identify. I remembered standing there feeling nothing and everything at the same time.

Seeing how the drunk asshole was trying to harrass her, it ignited a rage out of me.One second, I was watching. The next, my fist was already connecting with the asshole's face. All I could see was him touching her. His filthy hands on her waist.

And suddenly all the anger I buried six years ago came rushing back violently enough to burn through my chest.

Not because she disappeared. But because she left me with nothing. No explanation. No goodbye. And somehow...Seeing her alive only made me angrier.

I poured myself another drink. The burn of whiskey slid down my throat, but it did nothing to quiet the storm inside my head.

I leaned back against my chair, glass hanging loosely between my fingers as her face replayed in my mind over and over again.

The anger in her eyes. The hatred. The way she looked at me like I was the worst thing that had ever happened to her. She had changed. 

A bitter scoff left me. Funny. How she used to look at me like I hung the stars in the sky. Like I could do no wrong.

And maybe I did ruin that. Maybe I became the monster she saw standing in front of her tonight. But I had my reasons.

And Ariana paid for it. Because every time I looked at her after that, all I could see was him.

But she had no right to stand there tonight looking at me like I was the only villain in our story.

My jaw tightened as another memory surfaced.

I still didn't know why the hell I asked her to be my mistress. Maybe because some twisted part of me still craved her.

The grip around my glass tightened.

She had moved on. Built a life somewhere while I stood at graves mourning someone who wasn't even dead. Because why the hell did she not deny when I asked whether she had a daughter?

A sharp knock suddenly sounded against the office door snapping me out of my trance. 

"Come in."

The door opened immediately and one of my men stepped inside.

"Sir."

He walked forward and placed a black file in front of me.

"The information you requested."

I picked it up and opened it.

Ariana Parker.

My eyes scanned through the pages until they stopped on one particular line.

Child: Lily Parker. Female. Five years old.

Something strange settled in my chest. I shut the file and tossed it back on the desk. 

Publishing house during the day. Nightclub at night.

Even after six years she is still struggling.  Even going as much as serving drunk bastards for tips.

"Sir?" Dan called.

My expression hardened.

"The manager," I said coldly. "Take him out."

His posture stiffened immediately. "Tonight?"

"Yes. Poor business management. Missing money. Carelessness." I finished my drink before setting the glass down heavily. "I don't tolerate incompetence."

"Yes, sir."

I leaned back. "And assign someone smarter to run the club before the end of tomorrow."

"Understood."

My eyes drifted back to the file resting on the desk.

Ariana's picture stared back at me. Alive. Breathing. Existing after six years.

The anger inside me burned all over again.

"As for the waitress..."  He straightened waiting for order. 

"Fire her."

**

The ride home was quiet. The kind of silence that didn't calm anything down it only gave space for thoughts you were trying to avoid.

Ariana's face kept slipping into my mind no matter how many times I pushed it away. By the time I got home, my mood had only worsened.

I loosened my tie as I walked past the hall, shrugging off the jacket and tossing it somewhere I didn't care to remember. I sank into the couch and leaned my head back, staring at the ceiling. 

My phone rang getting my attention. I peeped at it seeing my fiancée's name. I didn't answer.

As soon as it ended another came in. Again.

Persistent. Clingy. Predictable.  I headed upstairs.

Later, I came downstairs after a shower, steam still clinging to my skin, a towel hanging loosely around my waist. 

Barefooted, I walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, grabbing water. My phone began vibrating from the counter where I tossed it.

Oh well...since Vanessa couldn't get my attention,  she resorted to my mother. 

I exhaled sharply before answering.

"Damien," her voice came already annoyed. "Why didn't you answer Vanessa's calls? She's been trying to reach you all evening."

"She says you missed the fitting again. Do you think this wedding plans itself? Two months, Damien. Two months."

"I was busy."

"With what exactly?" she pressed. "Your wedding is not optional. Vanessa is —"

"I said I'll handle it." I said through gritted teeth. I hate it when she tries to control my decisions. 

"You always say that," she shot back. "But you don't show up. You don't answer calls. You don't—"

"I run an empire," I cut in coldly. "Not a wedding rehearsal."

Silence.

I could almost hear her tightening her grip on the phone on the other end.

"That empire exists because of this family's alliances. And Vanessa's family is not something you can disrespect like this."

Disrespect.

Funny word. My jaw tightened before I spoke again.

"I'll attend what I need to attend," I said. "That's all."

"That's not enough. Vanessa deserves—"

"Vanessa is fine," I interrupted.

And I meant it in the coldest way possible.

Because Vanessa wasn't my problem. I cared about the fact that Ariana was alive.

And breathing in the same city. After six years of being buried in my head.

"I'm done with this conversation," I said finally.

"Damien—"

I hanged up. A message popped up immediately.  

"Job's done, Sir,"

A slow, dangerous satisfaction curled at the edge of my mouth. If Ariana thought disappearing once was enough to escape me....she was wrong. Because this time around, I am going to make sure she feels every bit of it.