All Chapters of BOUND BY DECEIT : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

"Damian I'll get car sick in the passenger seat" Nancy whined " Are you gonna sit or do you want a separate uber" Damian said " I'll sit" Nancy said defeatedly Nancy hated Amaya more as every second passed by, Damian seemed to care for here and it was too early for that. Amaya seemed to be oblivious to everything going on, her head started aching again, she had forgotten to take drugs in the morning before leaving the house, she could feel the weird taste in her mouth again. Damian noticed something off about her but then again, she never really spoke to him and he hated her anyways or so he thought. DAMIAN Her eyes began to look tired again, just like yesterday, was she okay, why do I even care? if there's one thing I want it's to see her in pain. she closed her eyes and let her head rest on the chair "please go slowly" she said to the driver, eyes still closed "go faster" I said without hesitation instead of answering she winced in pain and turned her he

Amaya wakes up, head aching but somehow she felt significantly better than before until she noticed she was laying in a strange bed and a strange man was sleeping next to her, it was a big bed with dark grey sheets, it was soft and comfortable, the room was dimly lit, the headboard was jet black and come to think of it almost everything was like that, the room had a faint scent of Mahogany and a rich lingering scent of cologne. Glancing around a big bookshelf caught her eyes, he had so many books, did he read a lot, it contained mostly voluminous books, looking further a glass study table which beamed under the soft light caught her attention, it was filled with documents and folder and binds and more documents and one framed photograph of what seemed to be a family picture. The walls had rich abstract paintings, paintings which you could tell would cost a fortune from the quality alone.The room made her feel small, Damian moved in bed, this action did not only break her train of tho

Finally, she retreated to her new room, closing the door behind her with a sharp click. Damian followed, unannounced but not unwelcome. He leaned against the doorframe, watching her as she paced, trying to release the tension coiled tight in her muscles.“You’re resilient,” he said finally. “I’ll give you that. Most would have crumbled long ago.”“I’m not doing this for you,” she shot back.“Of course not,” he replied, voice low, almost amused. “You’re doing it for yourself. And that… I respect.”For the first time all day, she allowed herself a small breath. Despite everything, despite the anger and humiliation and the strange, confusing pull he seemed to have over her, she felt a tiny spark of clarity. She was no longer afraid—not really.This day had been exhausting, filled with sharp words and sharper glances, but when she finally lay down that night, she understood something critical: she would not be broken. Not by him, not by his rules, not by the vast, suffocating mansion, nor

Her stomach twisted. “Respect doesn’t erase arrogance,” she shot back, taking a cautious step toward the door. “And it doesn’t excuse the way you try to dominate everything, everyone… including me.”He moved with the precision of a predator, positioning himself so that the only path out required brushing past him. “Dominate?” he asked, tilting his head. “Is that what you call it when I ensure your safety? When I make sure you don’t wander into trouble? You’ve seen glimpses of the world I inhabit, Amaya. Danger is everywhere, and in this house… it is even closer. You are… fascinating to watch because you refuse to recognize it.”Amaya’s breath hitched, a mixture of anger and frustration simmering through her chest. “I don’t need your protection,” she said, voice rising despite herself. “And I don’t need your approval.”He stepped closer still, his presence almost suffocating, yet there was an undeniable magnetism in the way he moved. “Approval,” he echoed, a faint smirk brushing his li

The mansion stretched around her, vast, silent, and impossibly luxurious, yet cold. Every corridor, every room, every shadow seemed to pulse with the awareness of him. She had tried to eat in peace, to maintain her composure, to assert some semblance of independence—but it was impossible. Not while he existed in every corner, in every glance, in every heartbeat that raced when she thought of him. By the time she reached her room, the sunlight had shifted, casting long shadows across the dark grey sheets she had come to reluctantly accept as her own. She sank into the chair at her desk, trying to focus on papers, on plans, on anything that could distract her from the persistent weight of Damian’s presence in her life. And as she worked, she knew one undeniable truth: the silent meals were far from over. Each day, each interaction, would be a careful dance of observation, challenge, and defiance. And she would endure. She would resist. She would survive. Because that, she realized wi