All Chapters of Damien's Willing Captive : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Damien’s POV I tossed my jacket on the marble counter and turned to her, my expression unreadable. “Come,” I said simply, motioning for her to follow me. She hesitated. “Dinner,” I added. “But first…” I didn’t wait for her answer. I turned and walked toward the room we now shared—My room. Her prison. She followed slowly, every step dragged by resistance. But she followed. Inside, the room was dimly lit, warm shadows dancing on the cream walls. I shrugged off my jacket, let it fall to the floor, then turned to her with a lazy kind of authority. “Help me change.” Her mouth fell open, eyes rounding. “Excuse me?” I didn’t blink. “Get me out of these wet clothes. I need something more comfortable.” She stifled a hiccup. A sound halfway between shock and disgust. “I’m not your maid, Mr Voss. I’m not your anything. Do I need to remind you that I was kidnapped?” That struck deeper than she probably realized. Not your anything. Not your fiancée. Not your woman. N

“Did you just call me Isabella?” Her voice cracked like the thunder behind the windows.Damien’s gaze didn’t waver. He stood motionless for a second, then offered a dark smile, as though caught in a private joke. “Isn’t that what you’ve been screaming since you got here? That your name is Isabella?”She took a step forward, her voice steel-sharp. “That’s not what I asked. If you’re so sure I’m Ariana, your enemy’s daughter, then why call me by another name at all?”For the first time in days, Damien looked… uncertain. Not rattled, but thoughtful. He let out a slow breath and reached for her hand. His touch was warm, coaxing, but she didn’t miss the way his fingers still felt like velvet-wrapped chains.“Come,” he said, guiding her toward the velvet lounge in the corner of the library. He didn’t wait for her permission before settling her down gently and lowering himself into the seat beside her.She tensed when he pulled a crisp folder from the drawer beside him and slid it into her l

Isabella's POVWhen Damien said he’d send someone with an outfit, I pictured something classy. Understated. A simple cute dress. But the garment I pulled from the box was anything but.The fabric was black like ink—luxurious and impossibly soft, yet structured to perfection. It clung to my curves like it had been sewn onto my skin, wrapping around my waist and hugging the swell of my hips. The neckline plunged dangerously low, a sharp V that barely kept my breasts in place. The slit up the thigh whispered scandal. Every step promised a glimpse of sin.I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize myself.Ellie had come to fix my hair and makeup. She swept my hair into soft waves that framed my face and painted my lips blood red. It was a look that screamed dangerous woman—and maybe I was one now.At 7:06, I descended the grand staircase.Damien was already waiting by the car, glancing at his wristwatch. But the second his eyes landed on me, time stopped.He looked at me like he was goin

Isabella’s POVMy head throbbed like someone had slammed it in a car door.The scent hit first—sterile, sharp, like a hospital hallway soaked in bleach... and something floral underneath. Roses? No. Rotten roses.I blinked. Pain flared behind my eyes. My body wouldn’t move. My wrists—strapped in place. Ankles too. Leather cuffs. Cold. Tight.Panic didn’t bloom—it exploded, sudden and animalistic. My chest rose fast. Too fast.“Damien?” I rasped. My throat was sandpaper. “Damien!”No answer.I was lying on my side. The floor beneath me was hard and unforgiving. Cement. And cold enough that it was seeping into my bones.My mouth moved before my brain could catch up.“Well,” I muttered, voice shaking despite myself, “this is definitely not the ladies’ room. Do I really have a sign on my forehead that says ‘kidnap me’?”A click echoed from above. A bulb flickered to life—weak and yellow, casting long shadows on walls lined with rust-stained metal.A figure stood across the room. Tall. Mas

The roar of jet engines whispered in the distance as the black SUV rolled toward the private hangar, headlights slicing through the early dusk. Damien sat in the backseat, eyes locked on the tarmac ahead, mind already halfway to Isabella. His pilot was prepping the Gulfstream. The crew was ready.Everything was running smoothly and they were almost there, until—Rrrrring. Rrrrring.His phone vibrates violently in his coat pocket. Damien glanced at the caller ID.Olivia.He picked it up with a tight breath. “Not now, Liv.”Her voice was sharper than usual. “Where are you?”“I said not now. I have a jet to catch. I literally don’t have time for your micromanaging bullshit.”“You don’t have time?” she cut in coldly. “You don’t have time for the disaster you just caused?”Damien’s brows pulled together in a tight knot. He signaled to the others to stop. “What the hell are you talking about?”“I’m talking about the fact that you owe me answers, Damien. And yes, as your assistant I believe