Chapter 7

"Tell your wretched boss that he won't get what he wants." Cinthye shouted at the men in black, staring at her coldly.

"Here's your food, young signorina." An elderly woman in a maid outfit came to view. Her hair neatly combed, wrinkles visible on her face illustrating the years she served this household. She takes off the shackles on her hand, Cinthye sigh in relief but that doesn't mean she trust this woman already.

"I don't want to eat." She crossed her arms, secretly caressing her bruised skin. Wincing every now and then. "Where the heck is your boss? What is taking him so long? Is his balls too heavy today that he won't see me?" She demanded. She doesn't care if she sounds like that. Cinthye will act as a spoiled rich brat if she has to. She plans to put this act until he distance himself away from her.

I mean who wants to have a bratty wife? No one does. At least that's what she thinks, that's what she saw in her previous film projects. Men hates it when they come across gold diggers most likely spoiled brats. They hate it when their money is used in mindless shopping.

"You shouldn't be stubborn, young signorina. Damien will get upset and he will—"

Her brow raise challenging her.

"Punish me like a kid? Oh please he's too old for that thing. He's not my parent."

"Maybe not but you are my woman. You will do as I say." A familiar baritone voice muttered from the opened door. His tall build promising danger and something darker. His blond hair brushed up making him appear more terrifying. His white shirt biting his muscular chest and abs, tattoos peeking on his collar.

"Damien Voss." She muttered grudgingly. "What do you know? The man I had a one night stand with is the one who ordered to kidnapped me. Great! You're really a monster!"

He chuckled, taking a few strides to stand right in front of her trembling figure.

"My bride recognize me. Good." He nods to himself satisfied. "Your so called family is not worth your tears. Especially the person you considered as a mother."

Her eyes opened wide in rage and slapped Damien. He smiled like a dmn psychotic masochist.

"How dare you put that dirty bug on me! You have no right to invade my privacy, my life and my personal affairs."

"Oh, little actress. That's not the only thing I did."

Realization hits her.

"You took my mother!" Cinthye punched his chest, bursting into frustrated tears. "You're heartless! Where is she?! Why? Why did you take her?"

"Simple." He leaned into her ear. "To get you."

He backed away.

"If you think this is the end, Damian. You're absolutely wrong!"

He laughed. His long fingers playing a black remote. Long legs crossing each other while he sat on the couch right in front of her.

"You're defiance draws my attention."

Cinthye takes the vase near the bed and throws it on the floor. She grabs a shard, she doesn't care if it pierces her hand. Right now she will give this man a piece of her mind.

"If you don't let my mother go i will bury this shard at your throat!" She threatened him. The tip touching the skin on his neck. He's tall but that doesn't matter as long as she's mad.

"Is that so, little actress?" He taunts her. Staring dead in the eye.

"Yes." She declares, holding herself together. To avoid trembling. She had to be strong.

"You know you can't do that." He pulls her hand closer, piercing his neck. Drawing drops of blood. He didn't even flinched but she did. She instantly throw away the shard with shaking hands. Her hand grabbed on the couch to catch her weak legs. His arms found her body, not to assist her but to show herself that he's claiming what he wants.

"I hate you." She yelled at him and scratched his chest.

"Hate me all you want. I don't care as long as I have you in my arms. You're mine." A sly smirk touched his lips, the metallic scent of blood smeared both their clothes.

"One day you will regret underestimating me."

"One day you will regret challenging me. Keep your fire, little actress."

She grabbed his collar tightly and yanked it.

"I will burn you."

"Maybe...or maybe not."

"Give me my mother back already! She's frail! She's weak! Don't you dare include her in this mess!"

"Oh, everything connected to you has no excuse to escape me. You think that defiant statement of your is enough for me to keep my hands for myself?" His nose touching hers, she bites her lips in irritation.

"Then you'll just have to keep your hands on me. Only me. You hear me, Damien Voss!"

"I won't promise."

"Good. Because I hate promises."

He chuckles, something played from the side. The TV turned on. A familiar figure appeared on the screen.

"Mother!" She exclaimed and immediately ran to the screen. "You ruthless don! Where is—"

"She's in a medical facility. Don't worry, the surgery is done. She's recovering."

Finally that brought relief to her system. She quickly wiped away her tears and sniffled.

"What do you want?" She asked frankly. What's the use if she talks too much?

"You're sharp, little actress. I'll give you that." He sips the whiskey from the glass on his hand. Damien took something from the drawer, a paper. He handed it to her quietly. She knows his eyes remained on her.

She reluctantly took it from his hand. Her eyes squinting to read. "No this can't be!" She read it again. "How—"

"I have ways." He shrugged.

She stomped her feet.

"You! This is fake! You forged my signature!"

He laughs.

"Oh, please I'm not that pathetic. It's genuine. You signed it yourself. Too bad you didn't read it."

Realization hits her. The document that was handed to her in the hospital!

"You used me! You framed this all up!"

"I told you. I always get what I want, little actress. Now." He licks his lips. "I want you. And I'll have you by hook or by crook."