DAMIEN’S POV - The Next Evening, 6:30 PM
Damien stood at his study window, watching the circular driveway with an intensity that would have been pathetic if anyone else could see it.
He’d spent the entire day in a state of controlled fury. Snapping at staff. Unable to focus on work. Checking the security caras obsessively to see what Sarah was doing.
She’d spent most of the day in the art studio, painting. From the glimpses he’d caught on the monitors, she seed to be working on sothing new...sothing that involved a lot of dark blues and grays, heavy brushstrokes that spoke of turmoil.
Good. She should be turmoil. She should be as conflicted about this dinner as he was about allowing it.
At 6:25, he watched her erge from the staff entrance. She was wearing the erald dress...the one he’d bought her for their gallery date. His dress. On a date with another man.
The possessive rage that flooded through him was primal, barely controlled.
Julian’s Tesla pulled up at exactly 6:30. Punctual bastard.
Damien watched Julian get out, open the passenger door for her with that easy charm, watched her smile....a genuine, relaxed smile he realized with sick jealousy that he rarely saw directed at himself.
Because with him, she was always tense. Always guarded. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop.
While with Julian, she could just....breathe.
He watched the car pull away, his hands clenched into fists, every instinct screaming at him to chase them down, to drag her out of that car and back where she belonged.
With . She belongs with .
He forced himself to turn away from the window. Forced himself to return to his desk. Tried to focus on contracts that suddenly seed aningless.
An hour passed. Then two.
He checked his phone obsessively. No ssages from her. No updates.
He pulled up the tracking app he’d installed on her work phone...technically a violation of privacy, but he’d long since stopped caring about technicalities where Sarah was concerned.
They were at Marcello’s, just as she’d suggested. Still there. Having dinner. Talking. Laughing, probably.
The jealousy was corrosive, eating away at his control.
At 8:30 PM, his phone buzzed. A text from Julian.
Relax. We’re just talking. She’s ntioned you approximately fifteen tis in two hours. I think you’re safe.
Damien didn’t respond. Didn’t trust himself to respond without revealing exactly how not-relaxed he was.
At 8:45, another text from Julian:
Bringing her back now. And Damien? She’s special. Don’t fuck this up.
ARIA’S POV
The dinner had been lovely. Julian was charming, funny, easy to talk to. He’d asked about her life, her interests, her dreams....genuine questions with genuine interest.
And she’d found herself talking about Damien. Over and over. Unable to help herself.
"You really love him," Julian said at one point, his expression a mix of amusent and sympathy. "It’s written all over your face every ti you say his na."
"Is it that obvious?"
"Incredibly. Which is why I need to tell you sothing." Julian set down his wine glass, his expression turning serious. "I didn’t actually ask you to dinner because I wanted a restaurant recomndation."
Her stomach dropped. "What?"
"I asked because I wanted to see how Damien would react. Wanted to see if he’d finally fight for sothing he wants instead of just controlling it." Julian smiled slightly. "And also because I wanted to et the woman who’s managed to break through his walls. Who’s made him feel sothing beyond possession and control."
"You were testing him?"
"And you. And I have my answer." Julian reached across the table and squeezed her hand briefly....friendly, not romantic. "You’re good for him, Sarah. You make him more human. More vulnerable. More real. Don’t let whatever complications exist between you destroy that."
"The complications are...." She paused. "They’re significant."
"Most worthwhile things are complicated. The question is whether they’re worth fighting for." His eyes were kind. "Is he worth it? Is what you have with him worth whatever price you’re afraid you’ll have to pay?"
The question hit too close to ho. Because that was exactly her dilemma....was loving Damien worth betraying him? Worth stealing from him? Worth destroying the trust he was begging her to give him?
"I don’t know," she whispered.
"Then you need to figure it out. Before soone gets hurt in ways that can’t be fixed."
The drive back to the estate was quiet. Julian made light conversation, but didn’t push. When they pulled up to the main entrance, he turned to her with a gentle smile.
"Thank you for a lovely evening. And Sarah? Whatever you decide.....I hope it makes you happy. You deserve to be happy."
"Thank you, Julian. For everything."
She got out of the car and watched him drive away, then turned toward the mansion.
And froze.
Damien stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the light from inside. Even from this distance, she could feel the intensity radiating from him. The barely controlled fury. The possessive need.
He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just watched her with eyes that burned.
Her heart hamred as she walked toward him on shaking legs.
When she reached the door, he stepped aside to let her pass, then closed it behind her with a decisive click.
"My study," he said, his voice rough. "Now."
*********
DAMIEN’S POV
Damien followed Sarah through the mansion, every muscle tense with barely controlled need. He’d watched the car pull up. Watched Julian open her door. Watched them say goodbye with smiles and friendly warmth.
And she’d co back. Had gotten out of Julian’s car and walked toward Damien’s door. Had chosen him.
But that didn’t ease the primitive fury coursing through his veins. Didn’t calm the need to claim her, mark her, make absolutely certain she understood who she belonged to.
They reached his study and he locked the door behind them, then turned to face her.
She stood in the middle of the room in his dress, looking beautiful and nervous and so thoroughly his that it made his chest ache.
"Did you have a nice dinner?" His voice was deceptively calm.
"Yes. Julian was very kind."
"Kind." He moved toward her slowly, predatory. "Did he touch you?"
"What? No! It was completely...."
"Did he make you laugh? Make you smile? Make you feel normal and safe and uncomplicated?"
"Damien...."
"Answer the question."
"Yes," she admitted. "He did. He made feel...." She paused. "Like a regular person. Like soone who could have a normal life."
"And is that what you want? A normal life?" He stopped inches from her, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. "Because I can’t give you that, Sarah. I’m not normal. What I feel for you isn’t normal. What I want to do to you...." His hand slid into her hair, gripping firmly. "....is nowhere close to normal."
"I don’t want normal," she whispered. "I want you."
"Prove it." He pulled her close, his other hand going to her throat.....not squeezing, just holding. "Let mark you. Let claim you so thoroughly that there’s no question in anyone’s mind who you belong to."
"Yes." Her voice was barely audible. "Yes, please."
He crushed his mouth to hers in a kiss that was more possession than affection....brutal, demanding, claiming. She kissed him back with equal desperation, her hands fisting in his shirt.
"Off," he growled against her lips, tugging at the erald dress. "Get this off. Now."
She reached for the zipper but her hands were shaking too badly. He spun her around and yanked the zipper down himself, then pulled the dress off her shoulders and let it pool at her feet.
She stood there in just her lingerie.....delicate black lace that he recognized as sothing he’d bought her.....and he felt the possessive satisfaction surge through him.
His. She was wearing his gifts. Had worn them on a date with another man and then co back to him.
"Everything off," he commanded. "I want you naked."
She obeyed quickly, and he took a mont to just look at her.....flushed, breathing hard, already aroused. Beautiful. Perfect. His.
"On your knees."
She dropped imdiately, and the submission in the gesture made his cock throb painfully.
"I’m going to claim your mouth tonight," he said, working his belt buckle. "Going to fuck your throat until tears stream down your face. Until you can’t speak. Until everyone who looks at you tomorrow knows you’ve been thoroughly used."
Her eyes widened but she didn’t protest. Just waited, mouth slightly open, ready for him.
He freed his cock and positioned himself at her lips. "Open wider. And keep your hands behind your back."
She obeyed, and he pushed inside without ceremony. Deep. Deeper than he’d gone before. Until she gagged slightly and tears sprang to her eyes.
"That’s it," he groaned. "Take it. All of it. Show you’re mine."
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