Chapter 17 Daisy
Isank onto one of the elegant sofas, trying to collect my thoughts, when Thomas Mason strode toward me. His smile was smug, his charm painted on.
“Good evening, Miss Elfhorn,” he purred—too close, too dry. “Beautiful,” he said, sliding into the seat beside me. Before I could react, he caught my hand and pressed his lips to it. The gesture made bile rise in my throat. “Utterly enchanting.”
“Good evening, Mr. Mason,” I murmured, forcing composure. My smile felt like a spasm as I yanked my hand back. My gaze darted around the foyer, searching for Damian, for Marlon. No one. Just him and me.
Mason leaned back, studying me with predatory sharpness. “Have you thought about my offer in Rome?”
“I don’t know which offer you mean.”
He glanced around, then leaned closer. “I want you to work for me.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s out of the question. You could offer me the world—I’d still refuse. I love my work with Mr. Miller, and I will never leave him.”
His smile thinned. “Or is it that you love the way he fucks you?”
Shock jolted me. I tried to rise, but his hand clamped down on my arm, iron, punishing.
“That’s none of your—”
“If that’s the case,” he cut in smoothly, his tone turning razor-sharp, “then I have another offer. One you can’t refuse.”
Cold dread sluiced through me. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you in that restaurant.
And if you don’t do exactly as I say, I’ll destroy Damian Miller.
One phone call, and tonight his little antique shop goes up in flames.
Everything he’s built, gone. And that’s only the beginning.
I’ll dismantle his company piece by piece until there’s nothing left. Until he’s nothing.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” I whispered, my voice shaking.
He leaned in, his eyes glittering with menace. “Ten minutes. Room 126. If you speak his name or mine, I light the match. And you’ll get to watch me ruin him.”
I stood, and this time he let me. “You’re bluffing.”
“Do you want to find out?” His smile was thin, cruel. “Damian Miller wouldn’t be the first I’ve destroyed. And I don’t like him. That makes this easier.”
Tears burned my eyes. I knew he meant it. I had no choice.
“All right,” I whispered, barely audible. “I’ll do what you want.”
Mason’s expression softened into a look of satisfaction. “That’s better. I knew you were a clever woman.” He rose smoothly, and then he was gone, leaving me trembling in his wake.
My hand moved before my mind did. One breath, and my phone was already in my palm, the screen glowing, my father’s name filling it.
My thumb hovered over the call button — one tap, and he would come.
One. Just one.For a heartbeat, I almost pressed it.
I felt my breath stutter, shallow, broken.
God, I wanted to. To let him end this. To let him burn Mason out of existence.But then the truth crashed into me, sharp enough to tear the air from my lungs.
If my father knew a man had threatened me, he wouldn’t stop at Mason.
He’d come with every guard he had, drag me out of this hotel, force me back to Rome, end my job, my life — every inch of freedom I’d fought for.My thumb trembled so hard I couldn’t make it touch the screen.
I froze — then slowly lowered the phone, but didn’t let it go.
I couldn’t.A shaky exhale slipped out as my fingers curled tighter around it.I couldn’t call him.
Not like this. Not ever.My thoughts raced.
I had no choice. To protect Damian, I had to give in.
But the thought of what it would cost me — what it would cost us — clenched around my throat.My hand was still shaking as I walked toward the elevators, gripping the phone like a lifeline.
I forced my thumb to move, forced the screen to unlock — forced myself to lie.
19:25 Daisy: I’m running late.
The foyer swelled with arrivals—laughter, conversation, the rustle of expensive fabrics. Through the shifting crowd, I saw Marlon enter. His gaze swept the room, searching. Searching for me. My heart jolted, hope surging. I wanted to wave, to call out—
The elevator closed on the world—and on any version of me that could still say no.
Shaky-legged, I walked down the corridor until I stood before room 126. As threatened, Mason came toward me, looked both ways down the hallway, then swiped his card through the slot. He shoved me inside with a push and locked the door behind him.
“I’m glad you’ve decided to make this deal, Miss Elfhorn. You’re sparing your friend a lot of suffering,” he said, taking off his shoes and his vest. “On the couch,” he ordered. Then he tugged at his tie, his tongue wetting his lips.
“Why are you doing this? You’re rich. You could have any woman.”
“You don’t understand.” His grin widened, wolfish. “It’s personal. I want the one Damian fucks.”
“Pull up your dress. I want to see something.”
An inner battle raged inside me. Was this really the right choice? Could I make this sacrifice for Damian?
“Don’t act like that. You can leave if you want, but I told you what will happen to your lover,” he threatened, pulling a condom from his pocket. Then he stripped off his pants, exposed himself, and began stroking his cock with a greedy stare. Nausea rose in me.
“Take off your panties. I want to see your cunt.”
I did what he demanded, my body moving while my mind recoiled. Mason let out a dark moan.
“Oh, I could come all over that pretty face. But no—I want my cock inside you.”
He stepped closer, lifted his foot, and shoved my knees apart.
“Open up,” he snapped. “That’s it.”
He rolled on the condom, pushed me back on the couch, and threw his heavy body on top of me with a guttural groan.
I froze. What followed I could only grasp in fragments. I couldn’t move. Didn’t even want to fight. I only wanted it to end. I had come to him of my own will—and now I had to bear the cost.
His weight crushed me. His thrusts came again and again, grunts tearing from his throat.
I lay still, staring into nothing. His palm pressed against my face, shoving hard while he moaned louder, finishing inside me.
Then he yanked out and grabbed my hair, jerking my head back with cruel force. A wicked smile curved his lips.
“Maybe I’ll come back to you. I like little sluts like you.”
Rage broke through my numbness. My hand shook as I slapped him.
“You dare hit me?” He punched me straight in the face, his fist landing hard against my cheek. Pain exploded. My head snapped to the side.
“Get off me, you filthy pig!” I spat.
He stood, looking down on me. “It was nice doing business with you. Maybe I’ll drop by your shop.
I know where to find you now. Maybe I’ll even tell my son about you—he’d know what to do with you as well.
And if you dare to talk to anyone about this, then your Damian is a dead man.
You’ll find your own way out,” he said, and disappeared into the bathroom without another word.
Tears burned. And then—nothing. Just emptiness.
Fear tightened around my throat. I felt naked and stripped bare before myself.
I wanted to scream. To smash something. Instead, I yanked my dress down over my shaking body and stumbled to my feet.
I left a shape of myself on that couch; the rest walked out on shaking legs. I fled the room in tears.
Out of the hotel.
Into a taxi.
Back home.
My phone buzzed over and over in my hand. Messages from Damian flashed across the screen.
20:10 – Damian: Daisy, where are you?
20:12 – Damian: Is everything okay?
20:15 – Damian: We’re waiting for you.
20:18 – Damian: Why did you go home again?
I froze. My pulse spiked. How did he know? Was someone watching me?
20:20 – Damian: Daisy, why the hell aren’t you answering?
20:21 – Daisy: I don’t feel well. Went home. Talk tomorrow.
20:23 – Damian: Daisy, you’re the guest of honor. You have to come!
20:25 – Damian: Daisy!
20:27 – Damian: I damn well can’t leave here!
The phone lit up with his name. I declined the call and shoved it deep into my bag.
20:29 – Damian: Pick up!
He called four more times.
20:41 – Damian: I would have needed you here.
The next morning, I emailed in sick and spent the following days locked inside my apartment. Guilt ate at me, tangled with doubt over whether I’d done the right thing. I still couldn’t process what had happened.
Ference knocked each day, his tone calm, professional. “Miss Daisy, I’m here to make sure you’re all right.”
“I’m sick, Ference. It’s contagious. Please go,” I whispered through the door, brittle and small.
I couldn’t let anyone see the bruise on my face—the mark Mason had left behind. Damian never came himself. He was probably angry I’d stood him up. Or maybe I simply didn’t matter.
Online, I found photos of the gala. Damian stood beside Silvia, smiling—composed, perfect. The way he looked at her, his hand at her back, carved something sharp into me.
Tears blurred my vision. I reached for a tranquilizer, swallowed it with water, and stared at the ceiling. I couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t move.
A hollow opened inside me.
And all I needed was Damian. I turned the phone face down. The night didn’t blink.
After a week, I forced myself back to work. If I stayed at home any longer, I would lose my mind. Work might distract me.
But my stomach clenched the moment I stepped into the shop.
I felt weak and wrung out, as if the past days had drained every ounce of energy from me.
My thoughts kept circling Damian, circling that night with Mason.
The pictures of him with Silvia ate at me until the pain in my chest became unbearable.
Ference had asked several times if I was all right.
I sat at my desk, trying to bury myself in routine, but my thoughts kept breaking free.
Finally, I grabbed my bag and went into the kitchen.
When had I last eaten? I couldn’t remember.
I reached for a pack of headache pills and a tranquilizer, swallowing both.
“Miss Daisy. Who hurt you?” Ference’s voice cut through the silence.
I turned away. “It’s nothing.”
He came closer, tilted my chin up, and turned my face left and right. “Who did this to you? Who hit you?”
“It’s nothing. I walked into a shelf.”
“Daisy, I’m not leaving until you tell me what happened—and where the hell I was when I should’ve been protecting you. Who did this?”
I shook my head. “Nobody. I really walked into a shelf. I have a client coming soon, I need to prepare.” I pushed past him. Ference hesitated, then left.
After the customer, I took a safety knife and opened the delivery that had arrived earlier. Carefully, I unwrapped the three artifacts.
The door slammed open. Damian stormed in.
“Will you tell me what’s going on here?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was sick.”
“Daisy, what happened?”
“Nothing. And if something did, I’m sure you don’t care.”
“Of course I care.”
“Then why didn’t you write to me? Why didn’t you come see me?”
“At first I was angry. I had to explain why the guest of honor—the one responsible for the discovery—wasn’t there. Then I thought you were upset because of Silvia, so I gave you space.”
“Nonsense. I just don’t mean enough to you.”
He caught my chin and lifted it. “You’re terribly pale. When was the last time you ate?” His eyes narrowed; his face went hard as stone. “Where did you get that mark?”
“Are we really making drama over a bruise? I ran into a damn shelf. Satisfied? Did Ference call you?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“I bet he did. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”
“Daisy, tell me right now what happened,” he growled. “Why did you leave the gala and lock yourself away for a week?”
I stepped back, fighting tears. “Please, Damian, just go. Let me work in peace.”
“I can’t.”
“You must. Otherwise I’ll leave.”
“You have someone else, don’t you? That’s why you won’t look me in the eye?”
My head snapped up. I glared so hard he stepped back. “Get out.”
“Not until you tell me the truth.”
“You want the truth? Fine. I fucked someone hard, and he hit me during it. Happy now?”
Rage and disbelief flashed across Damian’s face. He clenched his fist and slammed it into the wall, so close I flinched. The bang reverberated through my bones.
Without another word, he turned and strode for the door.
A violent tremor shot through me. The room tilted. Darkness crept at the edges of my vision. I reached for the wall, but my knees failed. Cold tile bit through my shirt as I slid to the floor. My breath came shallow and fast. A low hum pulsed in my ears.
Ference appeared in the doorway. Our eyes met for a second—then everything went black.