ログインA knock on the door interrupted the reply. Judite entered the room carrying a small tray with the painkiller capsules and a glass of water. She glanced briefly at my newly stitched shoulder but did not say a word. She placed the tray on the nightstand and retreated in silence, locking the magnetic latch behind her. I picked up the glass and the two black capsules. I approached Helen, slipped my right hand behind th
Damian’s POV"And what if I don't want to?" she challenged, her breath coming hot against my neck, her green eyes burning with defiance."I have told you more than once that you have no fucking choice in this house," I hissed, tightening my fingers against her skin. "Either you do exactly what I command, or you will be harshly punished when we return to the penthouse. Do you understand?""That is all you ever say! That I'm going to be punished, that I'm going to be disciplined..." She let out a strained laugh, trying to yank her arm back. "There is no way you can punish me if you aren't even home, Damian! You spend the entire day out!"I gripped her wrist with more force before she could break free. Before our argument could escalate, the sound of the office door handle moving made my body tense. I released Helen in that exact millisecond, stepping back.Helen's stepmother walked into the office, looking from me to her stepdaughter with a confused expression."Is everything alright in
(Damian’s POV)"It's not that. I want to go. It's a very important day, it's my sister's birthday," she replied, trying to steady her voice.I opened the car door and stepped out, pulling her with me into the gélid city air. My security detail positioned themselves across the front lawn. I grabbed a black leather bag, heavy and discreet, which Charles had handed me before we left the penthouse. I turned to Helen and extended the object toward her."Carry this bag inside for me," I ordered.Helen furrowed her brow, staring at the black leather. "Wow, why do I have to carry this? Wh
Damian’s POVThe last seven days were a blur of reports, sleepless nights at the Vance Global office, and silent meetings with Charles in the surveillance van. I needed to uncover the exact names involved in the Chicago shipping route. I needed to know if there were high-ranking politicians pocketing the bribes that covered up the disappearance of those girls at the port, or if the rot stopped at the police ranks. My mind worked without a break, but the flesh of my left arm—though healing well with the stitches firm after the surgeon repaired the damage—throbbed every single time I remembered the night by the pool.The truth was simple: I spent the last week pulling away from Helen on purpose. That eighteen-year-old girl was messing with my head too much, occupying far too much space in my thoughts. I spent the day out and only arrived
Damian’s POVA knock on the door interrupted the reply. Judite entered the room carrying a small tray with the painkiller capsules and a glass of water. She glanced briefly at my newly stitched shoulder but did not say a word. She placed the tray on the nightstand and retreated in silence, locking the magnetic latch behind her. I picked up the glass and the two black capsules. I approached Helen, slipped my right hand behind the nape of her neck, lifting her head firmly from the pillows, and pressed the medication against her lips."Take this. Now," I ordered.She swallowed the pills at once, drinking the water immediately after. The liquid cleared the taste of champagne from her mouth. I placed the empty glass back on the tray. I tried to make her eat some of the soup Judite had left warm in the kitchen, but Helen turned her face to the opposite side,
POV/ DAMIEM"You wouldn't dare," she challenged, stomping her right foot on the wet floor, the impact splattering water droplets across my suit trousers.I held her gaze in silence, feeling the heat emanating from her skin, feverish from the alcohol. Helen tried to maintain her confrontational stance for a few seconds, but her expression shifted drastically. She released the arm that was trying to shield her chest and used the back of her free hand to rub her eyes, focusing her attention on the left side of my body. Under the terrace lighting, the dark, damp bloodstain on my black shirt was expanding, tracing the outline of the wound beneath the cloth. The effort of holding her had made the flesh of my shoulder pull."What is that?" Her voice changed tone in that instant, losing all its alcoholic irony and becoming suddenly clean, frightened. "You
Damian’s POVI spent the last few hours at a private medical clinic near downtown Chicago, sitting on an iron gurney under the cold, white ceiling light. I watched the surgeon tie square knots with black nylon thread into the torn flesh of my left arm. I refused local anesthesia. The burn of the needle piercing my skin repeatedly and the tug of the nylon thread were a necessary physical reminder of the mistake I had made at the port. The supervisor of the Rossi operation had slipped away because of my slowness on the dock, and the pain in the muscle served to keep my focus locked. As soon as the gauze dressing was secured with medical tape, I pulled on a clean black dress shirt my men had brought from the van, adjusted the collar, and ordered the driver to head straight to the penthouse. I needed to clear my mind and recalculate the next steps of the investigation.
(Helen’s POV)The ride to my new prison was a desert of silence. Damian Vance didn't look at me a single time as the armored car cut through the dark, freezing streets of downtown Chicago. He remained in the backseat, typing on his phone, his expression as rigid as a tombstone. I curled up against
(Helen’s POV)The rest of that high-society wedding reception felt like a warped blur of flashing lights and fake voices. Damian Vance dragged me through the luxurious ballroom like a recent hunting trophy, parading me in front of investors and businessmen whose names I couldn't even begin to guess
(Helen’s POV)Every step down the red carpet of the Chicago Cathedral felt like it weighed a ton. The freezing church air sent chills down my arms and up the back of my neck, but the worst part was the burning in my stomach—my gut was completely tied in knots of pure terror. Beneath the thick lace
⚠️🔞 TRIGGER WARNINGS (DARK ROMANCE): ⚠️🔞This is a DARK ROMANCE book with heavy, raw, and non-traditional themes. It contains highly sensitive content that some readers may find uncomfortable, triggering, or disturbing. This includes, but is not limited to:Domestic abuse and physical violenceFo







