Chapter 19 Daisy #2
He flipped through the yellowed pages. “This really is an incredible find. The story itself is a milestone in literature.” He looked at me, his gaze soft, full of admiration. “You truly have a rare gift for finding things. It’s as if they were waiting for you to take them.”
I smiled. “So that means you’re happy to have me as your employee?”
“Happy? Is that a joke?” He closed the book carefully and set it on the table. “Having you as my employee is like winning the lottery. I also wanted to tell you what happened at the gala. I waited because—”
I nodded. I understood why he had waited to talk about that day.
“First, I had to apologize to people for you not being there. I told them you were sick,” he explained, his voice gentle. “But I plan to host another event in your name, because you were the one who discovered the origin of the Phoenix pendant.”
“And did the gala change anything for you?”
“The discovery of the pendant changed everything,” Damian said. “I’m flooded with offers from very high-ranking people in the industry. Suddenly they all want to work with me. The papers reported on it, and my value has doubled.”
I smiled. Pride burned in my chest. “You deserve this.”
He took my hand and pressed it gently. “That’s not true. I owe it to you. Without your sharpness, none of this would have been possible. You have a gift, Daisy, and I’m glad we can use it together.”
“It means a lot to me that you say that, but won’t what you did with Mason ruin all of it?”
“I know Mason is going to retaliate. Either against me or against you. I have to stay one step ahead of him. But I’m not worried about the fight.
If he goes public and says I’m the one who beat him, people will start asking why.
Mason has a wife. Kids. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep this quiet. ”
I nodded. “He already has. I read an article online. He claimed he was mugged.”
“I saw it.” His gaze sharpened. “ Did you tell Jenn about Mason?”
“No. If I had, she would’ve been on the first train here. I’ll tell her next time we see each other.”
For a moment, Damian seemed lost in thought. Then he reached into his pocket.
“I got something for you.”
He opened a small velvet pouch.
“What is it?” I asked, curiosity flickering through me.
“I had it made. For you.” He pulled out a delicate chain with a pendant attached.
I took it from him and stared at the miniature phoenix in my palm. It was an exact replica of the original.
“Damian… I don’t even know what to say. Thank you.”
“I want you to always remember how valuable you are.” His fingers brushed slowly down my arm before he wrapped me gently in his arms. He took the necklace from my hand, fastened it around my neck, then lifted me onto his lap, holding me tightly as he buried his face in my hair.
“Is there anything—anything at all—I can do for you?”
“It’s enough that you’re here.”
“Do you want to talk about it? About Mason? About that night? I need to know how you’re feeling. What you’re carrying.”
I gathered my thoughts, brushing invisible lint from my dress.
“When Mason threatened to destroy your life. Your company. Burn down the store if I didn’t come to his room… I panicked. I couldn’t let him do that to you.” My gaze dropped. “It was impulsive. He cornered me with his words, pushed me so far that giving in felt like the only way out.”
“What exactly did he do?” Damian asked quietly. There was a tremor in his voice—barely there, but I heard it.
I closed my eyes for a second.
“It was fast. I don’t think it even lasted a minute. I was on the couch. He got on top of me and… he was already done.”
Damian’s eyes darkened, fury tightening his features.
“Did he use protection?”
“Yes.” My voice was hollow. “I was frozen. I could barely move. The whole time I kept telling myself I was doing this for you. And afterward… I was terrified you wouldn’t be able to look at me the same way if you ever found out.”
Damian inhaled slowly before he spoke again.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
“He controlled me like a puppet.” My voice trembled. “Afterward he called me a whore. I slapped him. Then he hit me.”
Damian’s hands curled into fists. A storm gathered in his eyes.
“You’re so strong, Daisy. I wish I could’ve stopped it.”
He pulled me tighter against him. I leaned into his warmth, the solid safety of his body around mine.
“You’re not leaving my side without a bodyguard. Not until I handle this.”
I turned to face him fully. “Handle it how? What are you planning?”
“You think I’m just going to let him walk away from this?”
“Mason is powerful. And dangerous.”
“So am I.”
“I don’t want you ending up in prison.”
He shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time. And don’t worry about it.”
Wouldn’t be the first time. What did that mean? Had he been in prison before? But not for murder… or he wouldn’t be out now. Even in this fragile, honest moment between us, I didn’t dare ask.
“I do worry,” I whispered.
“I have to work at the club this weekend,” he said, changing the subject. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone. And I don’t want you staying here by yourself. I want you with me.”
“At NYX?”
“Yes.”
“I’d like that.”
“I actually had something special planned for us tonight. But if you’re not up for it, we can reschedule.”
“What?” I asked immediately.
“Have you ever had a private museum tour at night?”
“No.”
“Then tonight’s your chance. I rented the Metropolitan Museum of Art for us.”
I stared at him. “You what?”
“I know the director.”
“You rented an entire museum?” My voice broke into a breathless laugh. “Damian, that’s insane.”
Overwhelmed, I threw my arms around his neck. I felt him stiffen under the sudden embrace—but in that moment, I didn’t care.
The museum’s vast halls stretched around us, cloaked in a reverent stillness. Soft light gave statues and paintings a borrowed life, as if history breathed through them.
“The whole museum just for us. This is a special moment for me,” I whispered.
We moved from gallery to gallery, Damian leading with a casual certainty, as if the place belonged to him.
The museum felt like a collision of past and present, and in that collision, he grew more magnetic.
I watched him—how he moved, fluid and precise, each step deliberate, each gesture measured.
His presence filled the room; he knew it.
Damian didn’t merely speak to women; he ensnared them with dangerous grace.
He built walls of desire and control, brick by brick, until escape felt impossible.
Every smile carried a double-edged promise, every glance a veiled command.
He knew exactly what they longed to hear—what they wanted before they even knew it themselves. That knowledge frightened me.
“Do you see this statue?” Damian asked, stopping before a Greek sculpture. “It’s a copy of Phidias’ work, one of the greatest sculptors of ancient Greece. He breathed life into stone.”
“It’s breathtaking. And I’m amazed at how much you know.”
“My passion for history and art never fades. I have the privilege of working with some of the best experts alive. But enough about me—what’s your favorite piece in this room?”
I scanned the space and pointed to a painting. “That one. The colors, the technique—everything about it fascinates me. The way the hues blur into each other feels alive. It’s raw emotion on canvas.”
Damian studied me, as if committing every word to memory. “You see art in a way very few do, and that’s why you captivate me completely.”
His voice was sweet poison, pulling me deeper into his orbit.
I never knew whether he would be the charming seducer or the cold manipulator; that uncertainty kept me taut.
And yet I couldn’t break free. I was trapped in his undertow, desire and dread braided so tightly I could no longer tell which pulled harder.
He didn’t just curate artifacts. He curated people.
And I was already on a plinth.