Chapter 15 - Vanessa's Victory

Vanessa's POV

Vanessa had never liked waiting. Waiting meant giving another person the advantage, and she'd spent her whole life taking advantages before anyone else could. In her world, hesitation was weakness, and weakness gets you buried.

And lately, Damian had been ignoring her, making her wait.

At first, she had brushed it off. He was busy, he always was. Running the Blackwood Enterprises, fighting his father's decisions, catching flights round the world to sign billion-dollar deals. But Vanessa knew Damian better than he had ever imagined she did. His attitude had changed, his silence had changed, his touches, once possessive and addictive had turned cold and uninterested.

Vanessa could feel it, she could taste it. The distance. The indifference. The possibility that he was already slipping out of her grip.

She wasn't about to let that happen.

Not to her. Not after everything she had done to get this high.

Tonight would be different. Tonight, she was going to remind Damian why he had never been able to dismiss her.

The penthouse gates opened with a click as the guard stepped aside, eyeing her but saying nothing. Damian had not invited her, he rarely ever did. But he never sends her out, he never denied her, either.

She walked in like she owned the place, going straight to the building and heading to the elevator. She was dressed in a silk black dress, clinging to every curve, her heels clinking sharply against polished marble. Her hair fell in soft, calculated waves around her shoulders, her lips painted in a shade of red that always left marks on Damian's memory.

The elevator clicked open, and there he was.

Damian stood by the window, overlooking the busy roads of the city. His broad back to her, hands in his pockets.

“You're late”, he said, his voice cold.

A small, satisfied smile tugged at Vanessa's lips. He expected me.

“I didn't know I was invited”, she purred, settling her clutch on the table as she walked towards him with deliberate grace.

“You weren't.”

Finally, he turned.

Gray eyes like ice. A face carved like marble. He was hot, annoyingly hot,but harder than anyone she had ever known. And harder till now, because he was moving away.

Vanessa let her smile widen. “Then this is a surprise. Aren't you happy to see me?”

“I don't like surprises”, he said simply.

You don't like loosing control, she thought, moving closer.

“You've been avoiding me”.

“I've been busy”.

“With what? Contracts? Board meetings? Or maybe…” she tilted her head, letting the thought dangle. “... something your father's cooked up?”

His jaw clenched, his gaze hardened, a dangerous flicker flashing through the coldness.

“Careful, Vanessa”.

The warning only excited herore. He still reacted to her. He still saw her as danger, as something he needs to guard against. That meant one thing, she still had power.

She stopped in front of him, letting the warmth of her body press against his cold one. “Damian,” she whispered, softly, “you’re sound so tight you're about to break. I can help with that. I've always been the one to help you”.

His eyes stared into hers for a long moment, then looked away, back to the window. He didn't push her away, but he didn't pull her closer either.

So she took what she wanted.

Her hands slid I his chest, feeling the tension vibrating beneath his muscles. She leaned into him, her lips brushing across his jaw, down to the corner of his mouth.

“You don't have to think”, she mumbled. "Not about heirs. Not about your father. Just…feel”.

Something in him shifted. His hands, rough and sudden, grabbed her waist, dragging her to him. His lips crashed onto hers with force — not tender, not loving, but hungry.

Vanessa moaned into his mouth, happy. This was the Damian she knew. The one who burned behind that icy looks. The one who needed her.

“Yes", she breathed between the kisses, tangling her fingers in his hair. “That's it, don't hold back".

His grip tightened, he kissed her harder, almost violently, as if punishing himself for giving in, as if punishing her for making him lose control. Vanessa loved every second of it. This wasn't romance. This was raw, desperate, addictive. This was proof that he couldn't walk away from her.

Damian lifted her into his arms suddenly, carrying her across the penthouse without breaking the kiss. The door to his bedroom slammed open under the weight of his shoulder, and then she was on the bed, her body sinking into the sheets worth more than her childhood home.

Clothes became an obstacle. His shirt buttons flew open, her dress straps slid from her shoulders. His body pressed on hers, heavy and consuming.

Every touch was hard. Every kiss was ruthless. It wasn't affection, it was released.

And Vanessa marvelled in it.

She arched her back, giving herself fully, her lips parting with soft, deliberate sounds that fed his need. “That's it, Damian", she whispered against his skin. “Use me. Forget everything else. I'm the only thing that makes sense".

His answer was wordless, his mouth against her throat, his hands everywhere, urgent and rough. He didn't love her, Vanessa knew that. But tonight, he needed her, he was hers tonight. And that was enough.

Because needing her meant she still had control.

Hours burned into heat and sweat. Damian thrusted into her again, and again, relentless, as if punishing the world through her body. And Vanessa matched his energy, clawing his back, crying his name, binding himto her with every stroke, every movement.

When it was over, she lay tangled in the sheets, her chest rising and falling, her hair damp and wild. Damian had already pulled away, sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to her. His shoulders were broad, tense, the muscles cut with shadows under the city’s glow.

He said nothing.

Vanessa smiled lazily, stretching out like a satisfied cat. She trailed a finger across the sheet where his hand had been, savoring the heat still left behind.

“Well,” she said softly, almost smug, “I think we both needed that.”

Damian didn’t answer. He stood, reaching for the shirt he’d discarded, pulling it over his shoulders with sharp, precise movements.

Vanessa propped herself up on one elbow, watching him dress with a mixture of irritation and amusement. “You’re not even going to lie down? Stay a little longer?”

His eyes flicked toward her, colder than ever. “Don’t push it.”

Her smile faltered for half a heartbeat, but she recovered quickly, leaning back into the pillows. “You can play the ice king all you want, Damian. But you always come back to me. Always.”

Damian buttoned his cuffs, silent. He walked to the window again, staring out at the glittering city below. His reflection in the glass looked like a man carved in steel. Unmoving. Untouchable.

Vanessa, still naked in his bed, let her smirk grow. He hadn’t sent her away. He hadn’t denied her body. That was victory enough.

But she didn’t see what he held in his hand.

Damian’s fingers slipped into his pocket, brushing against the folded file photo he hadn’t been able to throw away. Evelyn Carter’s quiet smile looked back at him from the paper. Innocent. Uncomplicated. The opposite of Vanessa’s carefully painted world.

His chest tightened with something he refused to name.

Behind him, Vanessa shifted in the sheets, humming with smug satisfaction. She thought she’d won.

But Damian’s eyes stayed fixed on Evelyn’s photograph, burning a hole into his palm as he whispered under his breath — too low for Vanessa to hear —

“This changes nothing.”