Elena
If Damien thought I was going to crawl into his bed and play the role of doting wife, he was being stupid and delusional.
By the time I got back from work his company now, apparenty. I was ready to slam the door in his freaking face. But this wasn't my apartment anymore. This was his fortress. His kingdom.
And I was the prisoner who'd walked in willingly.
The mansion was quiet when I stepped inside. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. My heels clicked against the marble floor as I made my way toward the stairs, determined to avoid him.
Halfway up, his voice floated from the shadows. "You're late."
I froze. He stepped out of the dimly lit hallway, suit jacket gone, white shirt sleeves rolled up. He looked like sin personified loose tie, the top button undone, that dark gaze fixed on me like I was his prey.
"I wasn't aware I now had a curfew," I said coolly.
"You do now."
I rolled my eyes and kept walking. But his footsteps followed, slow and deliberate. By the time I reached my bedroom door, he was right behind me.
"You didn't answer your phone," he said.
"I was working," I replied, yanking the door open.
"My company, my rules," he countered.
I whirled on him. "You don't and can't own me, Damien."
His lips curved into that dangerous smile. "Sweetheart, I bought the company you work for in less than an hour. Owning you isn't a question of if. It's a question of when."
My pulse skipped, and not just from anger. God help me, a part of me responded to that ruthless certainty. And gods I hated it.
"Get out of my room," I snapped.
"This isn't your room," he corrected softly. "It's ours."
I laughed in disbelief. "No that's not happening."
He stepped inside anyway, closing the door behind him. The click of the lock sent a shiver down my spine.
"I told you from the start," he murmured, moving closer. "This marriage won't be in name only."
My heart hammered. "You can't force me."
He stopped inches from me, his scent, clean, expensive and intoxicating flooding my senses. "I don't have to. You'll come to me on your own."
I swallowed hard, refusing to let him see the effect he had on me. "In fucking your dreams Damien "
"Every night," he said with a smirk, before stepping back.
The tension snapped like a rubber band, but it left my skin tingling, my breath shallow. He turned to leave, pausing at the door.
"Be downstairs in fifteen. Dinner."
"I'm not hungry," I muttered.
His gaze slid over me, slow and deliberate. "Eat, Elena. You'll need your strength."
The door shut behind him, leaving me with a racing heart and a thousand unspoken words.
Dinner was a silent war.
He sat at the head of the table, I sat halfway down. Every time I tried to ignore him, I caught him watching me, that unreadable expression on his face.
Halfway through, he set his fork down. "Tomorrow, you'll move into my wing of the house."
I choked on my wine. "Your wing?"
He leaned back, utterly calm. "Two bedrooms down from mine. It's....Closer."
"No," I said instantly.
"Yes."
We stared each other down like it was a game of chicken. He didn't blink.
I slammed my napkin on the table. "You're insufferable."
"And you're stubborn," he replied. "We'll see who breaks first."
"Definitely not me," I shot back.
His smirk was pure challenge. "We'll see."
I barely made it to my room before my phone buzzed with a text from my best friend.
Sophia: Girl. Your husband is insane. He just bought ad space on every billboard downtown. With YOUR face on it.
I froze. My fingers flew over the screen.
Me: What the hell are you talking about?
Sophia: It's a wedding announcement. You and him. Full-color. The man's unhinged.
My stomach dropped. This wasn't just a marriage to him it was a full-scale takeover of my life.
I paced the length of the room, fury boiling under my skin. This wasn't about revenge anymore. This was about control.
And I wasn't going down without a fight.
I didn't see him again until later that night. I was curled up in bed, trying to read, when the door opened without warning.
Damien walked in, no knock, no hesitation, holding two glasses of whiskey.
"You can't just barge into this room unannounced." I said tightly.
He set one glass on my nightstand. "And I told you this was our room."
I glared. "What do you want, Damien?"
"To make something clear," he said, his voice low and even. "You think you can outlast me. You can't. You think you can push me away. You won't. This marriage—our marriage—isn't going anywhere. And the sooner you accept that, the easier it'll be for both of us."
I sat up, fire in my chest. "And you think you can control me. You can't. You think you can break me. You won't. And the sooner you accept that, the easier it'll be for both of us."
His jaw tightened, but there was a glint in his eyes. Like he liked the fight I was putting on.
He stepped closer, leaned down so his mouth was at my ear. "We'll see, sweetheart. We'll see."
Then he left, the door clicking shut behind him.
I lay back against the pillows, my heart pounding. This was war, and I would be damned if I went down without a fight.
And neither of us was going to surrender.