Chapter Fourteen

Damien steps out and I let out a sigh.

Jesus! That was intense. Working as his secretary might not be as easy as I thought.

I step out of the boardroom and head to his office.

“ You'll have the office opposite mine Ms Ashford,” he says, not sparing me a glance.

I turn around and head to the office. I take a seat and turn on the monitor. In about twenty minutes I already have all my information stored in the computer system. There's a pile of work in my email waiting to be done. But that would be later. Right now it's lunch with Nat.

She texted me five minutes ago asking me to meet her outside for lunch. I pick up my bag and head out.

“Sooo…”Natalie says, a wry smile on her face. “ How was your first day at work as your husband's secretary?”

We both take our seats t at the restaurant she had chosen for us and I pick up the menu not really hungry.” Honestly I don't think that was a good idea.”

“Did he fuck you?” She asked bluntly and I sigh. Natalie's never been one to hold back on her words.

“No, not yet. But if things go the way they are then it won't be long

She folds her arms and stares intently at me.” Now that you're back, what's your plan?”

“While I was in Mexico, I thought of something.” I hesitate whether to tell Natalie the whole truth. But she's always been there for me. It doesn't seem right to hide something like this from her. “Mother's cancer wasn't what killed her.”

Natalie's eyes widen. “Are you saying…”

“Yes,” I confirm her unspoken thoughts.

She laughs and shakes her head. “No no no. Who would kill your mother? I mean she was the only daughter of a really wealthy man. She started Ashford Holdings. Who would be so brave enough to kill her”

“I don't know, Nat. But I do know this, Damien's mother has been battling with blood cancer for the past two years. Mom wasn't sick for up to six months before she died.”

I don't know why, but there's this strong feeling that tells me my mother didn't just die, she was killed. I'll get to the bottom of this and make everyone involved pay.

“And your father? And Cara? What are you going to do about them?” She asks, fiddling with her spoon, her sharp eyes narrowing on me. “ What’s your first move? You can’t exactly march into Ashford Holdings demanding answers.”

A humorless smile curves my lips. “No. But fate’s been kind, Nat. Father is hosting Ashford’s annual charity gala next month. The one where every investor, shareholder, and vulture in the city will be circling.”

Her brows shoot up. “You’re going to walk in there? After everything they did to you on your wedding day? The press will be at the event like every year.”

I feel the anger coil in my chest, but I force my expression calm. “Exactly. They paraded me in front of the world that night, humiliated me like I was some pawn. I’m going to make them see I don't break that easily. And as for the press, I'll give them something to gossip about.”

Natalie whistles low, shaking her head. “You really don’t do small comebacks, do you?”

“Small comebacks don’t destroy empires,” I reply coolly. I swirl the wine in my glass, already picturing the shock on my father’s face. “They won’t see me coming. By the time they realize the game has changed, it’ll be too late.”

Natalie leans forward, voice dropping. “And Damien? Are you going to tell him you plan to crash the gala? Because he’s not the type to play second fiddle in anyone’s revenge scheme.”

“Of course I'll tell him. Apart from you he's the only other anchor I have.”

“Ooohhh. Isn't that sweet?” She teases and I role my eyes.

~~~

By the time I get home, exhaustion weighs on me like lead, but adrenaline still runs sharp through my veins. Natalie’s words keep echoing in my head, her warnings, her doubts. But no, I can’t waver now.

I push open the bedroom door and freeze. Damien is propped against the headboard, laptop balanced on his thighs, glasses perched on his nose. He doesn’t even glance up when I step inside.

He hardly ever works in the bedroom, especially not this late. I didn't see him leave the office earlier. I got back from lunch and was told he left for a business meeting.

“Working late?” I ask, slipping off my heels.

“Always.” His tone is distracted, his eyes still fixed on the screen. Then, as though the thought just occurs to him, he says, “I received an invitation today. Ashford Holdings’ annual charity ball. Big event. The kind your father thrives on.”

My heart stutters at the name, but I mask it quickly. “And you’re going?”

“Of course.” He closes the laptop, finally giving me his full attention. “I’ll need to make an appearance. But since my wife has no interest in playing the role she signed up for, I’ll take someone else.”

The words sting sharper than they should. My chest tightens, jealousy twisting through me. “Someone else?”

His mouth curves into the faintest smirk. “Yes. A date. It won’t be difficult. Women line up for the chance to be seen with me. I'm supposed to make an appearance with a date. ”

“Oh,” I say calmly even though my insides are twisting with jealousy.

That cold, arrogant tone of his, God, it makes me want to claw at him. My fists clench, nails digging into my palms. “Is that supposed to make me jealous?”

He tilts his head, studying me like I’m one of his puzzles. “Are you jealous?”

“No.” I lift my chin, feigning indifference even though every word he’s spoken has burned me raw. “Guess I’ll just have to find someone else to go with,” I say coolly. “Someone who will keep me company, someone who’ll…”

I don’t get to finish.

Damien moves like a storm breaking loose, his laptop shoved aside, his hand seizing my wrist and yanking me against the bed. The next thing I know his mouth is on mine, hard, demanding, claiming. The kiss is fire and fury, silencing my words and burning away every ounce of composure I tried to hold.

My breath hitches against him, and the jealousy I thought I was hiding spills over into a raw, desperate kiss. He tastes of power, of restraint stretched to the breaking point.

When he finally tears his mouth away, his breath is hot against my lips. His eyes, dark, smoldering, dangerous, pin me in place. “Don’t,” he growls, voice low and lethal. “Don’t ever think about going to another man. You belong to me. Every jealous thought in that beautiful head of yours proves it.”

My pulse thunders. My lips are swollen from his kiss, my body trembling from the force of it. And still, I can’t stop myself from whispering back, “I'm not jealous.”

His answering smirk is wicked, predatory. “Sure about that Mrs Moretti?” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along my mouth before claiming it again with another bruising kiss. “I can tell you are.”

I push back. “I'm not. If you can find a date then I can do the same.”

His jaw tightens. I don’t miss the flicker of heat in his eyes, the dangerous edge that sharpens when I say those words. If Damien is fire, I’ve just poured gasoline over him.

His hand snakes around my throat, not choking, just holding, a possessive grip that makes my breath catch. He leans in close, his lips brushing my ear. “Say it again,” he growls, the low rasp of his voice vibrating down my spine. “Say you’ll find another man.”

I shiver but hold his gaze, refusing to give him the satisfaction of backing down. “Maybe I will.”

The change in him is instant. His control shatters. He flips me onto the bed in one fluid motion, caging me beneath him. His body presses down, hot and unyielding, his weight a reminder of exactly who owns me.

“You think I’ll let you parade yourself around for someone else? Let another man look at what’s mine?” His hand drags up my thigh, his fingers rough, teasing the hem of my dress until it rides dangerously high. “No, Leina. You don’t get to provoke me and walk away unscathed.”

My pulse hammers as his fingers skim higher, so close it makes my body ache. I gasp, my back arching, but he pulls away at the last second, leaving me throbbing with need.

“Damien…” The whisper escapes before I can stop it.

He smirks darkly, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. “That’s better. Begging suits you more than defiance.” His hand returns, teasing the edge of my lace panties, pressing just enough to make me squirm. But still, he doesn’t give me what I want.

I clutch at his shoulders, frustration mounting. “Please.”

“Please what, Mrs. Moretti?” His voice is silk over steel, his thumb circling torturously slow. “Tell me exactly what you want. No games.”

Heat floods my face, my pride warring with desperate need. My body trembles, betraying me, every nerve screaming for release. “I want you,” I whisper, but he only arches a brow, feigning patience.

“Not good enough.” He pushes harder, but not where I crave it most. My moan tears out helpless, shame and pleasure tangled together. “Beg for me, Leina. Beg like you mean it. Show me how jealous you really are.”

I bite my lip, my chest heaving, torn between pride and desire. But when he pulls back again, denying me, my resolve shatters. “Damien, please, please touch me. I can’t take it.”

That wicked smile returns. “There’s my good girl.” His mouth crashes down on mine, fierce and consuming, while his hand finally slips beneath the lace and claims me with ruthless precision.

The room fills with ragged breaths, broken pleas, the sound of sheets twisting in my fists. He works me until I’m trembling apart beneath him, a mess of jealousy, surrender, and desperate love, all while his growled words sear into me like a brand.

“Mine. Only mine. And don’t you ever forget it.”

His weight pins me to the bed as his hands roam over me, skilled, deliberate, teasing every nerve until my skin feels like it’s on fire.

In seconds our clothes are gone, and we are completely skin to skin. I’m trembling, my breath ragged, but he doesn’t slow, not until he sees me gasping, begging under his gaze.

“You feel that?” he murmurs against my neck, his lips brushing along the sensitive curve. “Every little shiver, every moan… it’s mine. You can’t hide it from me.”

I arch into him, desperate, the jealousy and need coiling tight in my stomach. “Damien… please… I can’t… I need you…”

He chuckles darkly, low and dangerous, his hands pressing harder, teasing, torturing. “You need me?” His thumb drags over the slick, teasing just enough to make my body shiver violently, but he doesn’t give the full release I crave. “Beg for me properly, Leina. Tell me you’ll take me like the jealous, greedy little wife I know you are.”

Heat burns my cheeks, humiliation and desire blending into a raw ache that claws through me. “I… I’ll take you, Damien… please… I’m yours… I need you inside me…”

His grin widens, wicked and possessive. “Good girl.” His mouth claims mine again, bruising, demanding, as his fingers slide fully inside me. I scream into the kiss, lost in the fire, my body writhing beneath him.

He slows just enough to let me hover on the edge, teasing, pulling back, making me beg again. “Don’t even think you’re done,” he growls. “You’ll ask for it, earn it.”

“Please… I need you now… Damien… don’t stop… please!” I’m shaking, desperate, my nails digging into his shoulders as he watches, eyes dark and hungry, controlling me completely.

Finally, with a growl, he moves with precision, relentlessly, and I come apart beneath him, voice breaking, begging, the world narrowing down to him and me. He holds me through the tremors, lips pressing to mine, murmuring my name, claiming every sound, every shiver.

When I finally collapse, gasping and trembling, he stays close, his body hot and heavy against mine, a dark satisfaction in his gaze. “Mine,” he whispers, voice low and dangerous, “every jealous, greedy, needy inch of you… mine.”