Chapter 7
Killian
I keep staring at the chunky ring on my finger. I’m still shell-shocked about its price and the fact that I’ll be allowed to keep it. I’ve been snatched out of my old life as if I secretly have a pedigree when I’m really the runt of a stray’s litter.
The incredible piece of jewelry stands for a lie Damen intends to throw into his family’s face, but whenever I look at it and remember he was the one to put it there, I’m overcome by a sense of belonging that feels foreign yet is so very welcome.
He did spank me as if I were a misbehaving child earlier, but I can’t begrudge him or mind the bruises surely forming on my ass.
The men I’ve previously been with would get violent, dismissive, or hurtful whenever I broke unspoken rules they had for their partners, but Damen isn’t like that.
He remained calm throughout the punishment, and now that it’s over, he’s happy to offer me another chance at his side.
All is forgiven. Not only is he not holding a grudge, but he’s even showered me with expensive gifts.
This isn’t love-bombing. It’s a nuclear-level threat, and I’m powerless against it, so I might as well close my eyes and let it radiate through me.
I’ve never been in a helicopter, so it’s another exhilarating new thing Damen has introduced me to.
I don’t see much in the darkness below, but we must be reaching our destination as I spot a large building with lights glowing in many windows.
Just like Damen said, it’s the only one we’ve seen after flying over swaths of snow-covered forest.
It’s so hot that he’s the one flying us here too. My exes could claim being proficient at breaking into people’s homes, fighting, or finding drug dealers in any new area, and here Damen is, landing us on an illuminated helipad with the same ease most people park their cars.
I have upgraded.
“If you want, I can show you the area during the day. It’s really beautiful out here,” Damen tells me after the helicopter sets down.
I smile at him so widely I worry I might look like the Joker. “I want to see everything. Will I get to ski? I’ve never done that.”
I take off my headphones with his help, and he even tightens the scarf around my neck as if I could catch a chill on the way from the helicopter to the house big enough to be a hotel.
“Of course. I enjoy cross-country skiing a lot.”
He gets out first, then reaches his hand out for me, helping me step out of the helicopter as if I’m a princess needing assistance to leave a horse-drawn carriage.
I’m officially living a fairytale.
I’m about to kiss Damen when a tall figure appears out of the darkness.
“You’re late,” the man says in a curt voice, and when he steps into the glow of the lights mounted around the pad, I take in his handsome features.
There’s silver threaded through his tidy beard, but each step he takes is filled with youthful energy.
He’s wearing an elegant winter coat, similar to the ones I’ve seen in the luxury stores today.
Damen turns toward the stranger. “Titus. You’ve been waiting for me since Mom’s call?”
“Of course I’ve not been standing here for an hour. It’s snowing. But I came out to tell you in person how you won’t get away with bad behavior this year. Mom’s been— Who’s that?”
His dark gaze zeroes in on me as if I’m a roach he needs to step on. The massive house behind Titus somehow makes him look more imposing despite him being of average height.
Damen glances my way, then back at Titus, who I assume must be his brother, as if the question was unreasonable. “This is my husband, Killian.”
Titus cocks his head, staring at us as if his brain was going through a blue screen of death moment. He’s back with a twitch of his shoulders. “Very funny. I—”
“I’m not joking,” Damen says, and the weight of his arm on my shoulders feels like a woolen coat to keep me warm in all this snow.
“No. This is unacceptable. You’ve really reached the limit with this shit! Father will never allow it.” He steps closer as if to bar us from entry like a Christmas bouncer. “I know what this farce is about. You think this is your ticket to the hunt. That you’ll get more trophies than me.”
Damen laughs. “Obviously, I will. I’m a way better shot and tracker than you.
You’ll be lucky if you get in one kill this year.
” Titus chokes, expanding like a blowfish, but Damen doesn’t let him cut in and grabs my hand, showing him the huge ring I’m wearing, and the matching wedding band.
“And I’m dead serious. It’s the twenty-first century, and I’m done pretending I’m something I’m not just so you aren’t uncomfortable.
The rock on this one might even be bigger than Bree’s. What do you think?”
I stay silent, a kind little mouse who might have green fur, but will not fuck this up. I’m more than happy to see Damen tease his brother though. Based on what he’s told me about his family, they deserve it.
“I think you’re out of your mind. You think we didn’t know what you were sometimes up to? But it’s time to grow up and think about family, not bring home…” He points at me from head to toe. “This. For shock value.”
Okay, maybe I can’t stay silent after all. I scowl at Titus. “And fuck you too.”
Damen squeezes my shoulder, speaking in a clipped, spiky tone. “If you offend my husband again, I will hire someone to cut Bree’s hair. I swear to God, I will do it.”
Titus blinks, taken aback. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“You know I would.”
Titus kicks one of the lights mounted around the helipad with such ferocity it pops out of its mount and dies. “You’re a disgrace to this family!”
“You didn’t say that when I cleaned up the job you botched in the spring,” Damen says, putting himself between me and Titus as we pass the man who’s now so red-faced I expect the snow will soon start melting around him.
The only reason I’m not that worried is Damen’s presence, because otherwise, Titus is a grenade about to blow. Since I don’t know him, and I misjudged Damen when I first met him, I’d rather stay on the safe side. I’ve already said too much to him. Deescalating is one of the many things I’m shit at.
“Is that your dad?” I whisper with my heart in my throat when a man appears on the front steps of the mansion some distance away.
“Oh no, that’s Colin, our butler. He’ll take our luggage,” Damen says and leads me down a cleared path toward the massive… palace. Everything looks much smaller from up in the air, but now that we’re approaching his home on foot, I’m floored by the sight before me.
The building that could have played the role of Batman’s family estate has steeply pitched roofs, three towers, as well as smaller turrets (so many turrets), and fanciful ornamentation revealed by the light twinkling in tall windows and Christmas lights draped over a huge fir growing out of a patch of ground in the middle of the driveway at the front of the building.
I almost walk into my man when we pass a hedge shaped like a rearing stag. I don’t even hear Titus’s complaining, overwhelmed by the sheer size of the manor we’re headed for. It’s like being punched in the face by a Christmas card.
When Damen offered me a winter getaway, I expected we’d be staying in a large house, but this place is so much more than that. I feel like I’m trespassing in a giant snow globe, a single crow among the glittering snowflakes. What’s next? A choir of ghosts starts caroling at the front door?
And that entrance? It’s intricately carved and decorated with stained glass like the door of a cathedral, but a tire-sized garland woven with red velvet ribbons, pinecones, and golden bells adds a Christmassy flair.
Are those real candles in the windows?
I’ve seen pictures of places like this, sure. On screens. In magazines or movies I make fun of. But seeing it in person? It’s unreal. Massive and smug.
As my boots crunch in the snow, I feel more inadequate with each step.
I’m cocky and don’t give a shit. Or at least that’s what I’d like to think about myself, but intimidation sneaks its way to my heart.
How did I ever think I’d fit in here? My nail polish might be no longer chipped, my hair refreshed, the spiked boots I’m wearing cost more than six months of rent, but I’m still just Killian.
If I were a Christmas garland I’d be adorned with bad choices, cat hair, and broken dreams.
I realize I’ve stopped walking when Damen tugs on my hand. “Wait ‘till you see the tree,” he says, making it clear that there’s another one inside. Because of course there is.
Should a moth like me really fly toward the flickering lights inside this mansion, or am I about to get burned to death for even trying?
When someone opens the grand door, I realize there’s only one way to find out.
A woman in her early forties, with a tidy bun at the back of her head, dressed in a smart navy dress paired with the most pristine of aprons invites us inside and takes my jacket the moment we enter.
I am enveloped in warmth despite this entry hall’s tall ceiling. It must cost thousands to keep this house warm.
“Welcome home,” she tells Damen as she takes his outerwear as well.
I’m faced with a grand staircase adorned with garlands and holly. A pair of reindeer sculptures stands on either side of the door between the twin flights of stairs, and to my right, on a wall covered with dark wallpaper is a family portrait at least as tall as me.
In the picture, a young girl with sharp eyes sits in the middle of a plush green sofa, with two boys standing on either side of her.
Behind them, with lots of empty space between them, stands a couple who must be the children’s parents.
And while such images usually feature identical pajamas or ugly Christmas sweaters, the Van der Horn family’s Christmas card from years ago is dressed in finery worthy of a ball at Buckingham Palace.
I smile and point out the dark-haired boy holding a book. The flurry of small beauty spots on his face and neck is a dead giveaway. That and the fact Titus is more of a dark blond. “Is that you? Little Damen?”
My man laughs, purposefully ignoring his brother’s constant yapping. “Was I already handsome?”
“In an I’d-put-you-on-a-postcard-to-my-grandma way.”
Damen shrugs. “Just wait for what my sister has to say about that when she arrives tomorrow,” he says, pointing out the girl in the picture.
“We don’t have all night!” Titus spreads his arms more aggressively than is reasonable. “Should I remind you’re already late?”
“Don’t be so dramatic. It’s called making an entrance,” Damen tells him and puts on a pair of slippers prepared for him. He then reaches into a cabinet made of real wood and pulls out another pair. “Size 8, right?” he asks.
“You remembered.” I nod with a flush from the change in temperature. Or I’m just this flustered in the new setting I don’t belong in. The whole house smells like orange, cloves, and generational wealth.
Titus walks off as if he can’t bear to look at us being all lovey-dovey. Good. It means the fake husband act is working. Or is this real? I don’t even know anymore, because we’re alone, yet Damen kneels at my feet and replaces my boots with the slippers, all smiles whenever he looks up.
Is this what being in love should really feel like? Will he kiss me under the mistletoe next?
Everything feels so grand when he offers me his arm and leads me down a corridor full of yet more portraits.
Those ancestors must be turning in their graves at the sight of me.
We then go through a room larger than many houses I’ve been to.
Flames are buzzing in the fireplace, despite there being no one to admire them, but the empty couches, chairs, and the little seat in front of a grand piano promise an incredible evening by the fire.
I’ve never been anywhere this opulent, and the thought that all this belongs to a single family when I’m living in an apartment not much bigger than the average van, builds a strange sensation deep inside.
A part of me hates that being born into this kind of privilege must set a person up for life, while everyone else struggles, but I can’t give in to that feeling because this is Damen’s world, and he has been nothing but generous.
How could I fault him for enjoying the wealth available to him?
So maybe it is too much. So maybe the world is cruel and unfair.
Fuck knows, I’ve had my share of pain. But if he wants me here, and holds my hand as he leads me into the dining room where his family awaits, then maybe I deserve some happiness for once.
Can I not have my Cinderella moment in my new outfit and on the arm of a man fit to be a prince? Do I really have to be Carrie instead?
“You okay?” Damen asks. “Remember you’re perfect the way you are. That’s how I want you. Don’t diminish yourself for them.”
I nod and take a deep breath of polished wood.
I settle into excitement and awe as we then walk along a corridor with marble on the floor, but then a set of doors is opened by a man in a uniform, and I’m facing a dining room with a table that could comfortably accommodate twenty people.
Only ten faces turn our way, yet I’m ready to throw up from the stress of it all. I need a drink.
Titus, who’s leaning toward the arrangement of holly running through the middle of the table, straightens his back and gestures toward me. “See for yourself!”
My head feels like a balloon, but Damen is there to hold me up. “Oh, so you’ve spoiled my surprise? How typical of you.”
I wish there was music playing to fill the silence, but I don’t get that mercy and hear the creak of the chair when the father from the portrait at the entrance rises to his feet.
He’s substantially older than in the picture.
Dark hair turned steel gray, and there’s now more wrinkles on his face, but it’s the same man. My Damen’s father.
“Are you mocking us?” he roars, his voice echoing off the marble walls.