Damian Romeo Age Novels & Stories

"Evening, as some of you know and some of you don't, my name is Damien. I'm twenty-seven years old and I am the owner of this place." Raven's mouth dropped, what? How was he so successful at such a young age. Raven lightly poked the girl next to her so that she could get her attention. "What does he do for a living?" she whispered. "He is the CEO of Luxshmier. Don't you know them? They are very popular and that's where he gets his wealth from." "Did he star......." Before Raven could finish her sentence, she was cut off: "Can you speak when it's your turn to make an introduction." said Damien.

I asked Nikolas. "I was on an Assignment" He smiled, showing off his dimples. "How old are you?" I asked. "Why the questions?". "I have to know the guy that's dating my sister" I shrugged. "We aren't dating" Cara and Niklaus said at once. "Yet" Damon coughed. "So?" I said. "I'm twenty two." He smiled, and I nod, Cara is nineteen, but everything I've heard, she is so much older. "We are made of Steel, Barbie" Damian said as he saw the worried look on my face.

"You like Juliette, right?" He was on the point of dropping the glass of juice he had in his hand. "Mom! She's my best friend!" She started laughing. "Come on, Damian! Let's be honest. She’s pretty, so I can understand." Damian widened his eyes. He couldn't believe what his mom was telling him right now. "Mom, I swear she's just a friend. I never felt anything for her." His mom pretended to believe him. "I have to go! See you later!" He closed the door after him and spotted someone waiting for him with a large smile on his motorbike. His jaw was about to drop when he recognized him. "Peter?" His crush waved at him and patted the seat behind him.

A usual, I can’t feel any pain no matter what they do but I do gain bruises, wounds and scratches. “I want to ask something,” I bravely approached them while they are on the couch. My stepmom doing her nails and dad smoking. “What nonsense is it?” dad asked. “Who is Angelo?” My question made my dad cough looking unprepared of it. My stepmom stopped what she’s doing too with widened eyebrows. I heard silent curses too from both of them checking up if I’m serious about my question. “No. We don’t know him.” I can see he is lying.

CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE: HIS ASSISTANT The new assistant…Damian…walked in, clutching a tablet to his chest like a shield. He was young, maybe early thirties, with wire-rimmed glasses and a nervous smile that flickered on and off like a faulty light bulb. "Signor Volterra," he said, his voice slightly too high. "I have your shooting schedule for today. There is also a new drama script reading at…" Louis smiled kindly. "Happy to see you today, Damian. Just Louis is fine."

He could see the flush on my cheeks. He could see the way my chest was heaving. He knew exactly what his father was doing to me under the table, and the sheer, helpless jealousy radiating off him was almost enough to make me dizzy. "It seems we’re missing one tonight," Arthur said casually, cutting into his meat. He didn't even glance at Leo. "My eldest son, Damian, decided to skip dinner. He’s handling some... delicate security matters downtown." My heart literally skipped a beat. *Damian.*

The ray of sunlight shone on his face, and he squeezed his face, before opening his eyes, then he rolled himself on the bed, before getting up. He was just waking up from sleep, but it didn’t look like he just woke up, because his handsomeness was something anyone will write home about. His name is Damian Walter, he is just twenty-six years old and yet he was already a billionaire of his own. He has a sugar company and it’s growing abundantly.

Really gorgeous— if you looked beyond her expressionless face and cold disposition. Camille noticed the tiny drops of water he'd missed clinging to his creamy hard torso, but she focused on his eyes. "To me. . . you are." "How so?" "You're 24, Damien. I'm 33. Do the math." "I'll be 25 in a couple months. Besides, haven't you heard that age is just a number?"

The office felt charged, the scent of sex thick, her submission to these older men, especially Damian, fueling the forbidden heat. Damian stood, his broad shoulders casting a shadow over her petite frame. He grabbed her wrist, yanking her up roughly. 'Not done yet, red. Time to really show you off.' His voice was gravelly, commanding, the age gap between them—his forty-seven years to her twenty-five—making her feel small, owned. She stumbled to her feet, legs wobbly, cum trickling down her thighs.

The Wrong that felt Right. Damian's POV My name is Damian Vale. I'm twenty-five years old and the only son of industrialist Maxwell Vale. I'm the heir to a huge fortune that can buy politicians and banks. When people hear my name, they think of power, beauty, and honor. But they failed to see the cage.