Chapter 15
Shadow
She is here.
Green eyes lock with mine, and in them, my world comes to a standstill.
I forget everything as my anger diminishes for a second, giving me room to breathe.
She gives me space, and she doesn’t even know it.
I close the distance, pulling her close.
Her soft, pliable body against my firm one.
My head burrows into her neck, and her scent envelopes me.
Some vegan body wash that leaves the shower smelling like vanilla and pomegranate.
Transferred to her skin and mixed in with her unique scent, the combination fourth on my list of favorite things in the world.
Her small hand snakes up and captures the nape of my neck.
“The winner is…Damon Deangelo!” The crowd erupts with applause, reminding me where we are and that others can see us.
“Damon Deangelo,” she repeats my full name quietly, and fuck if it doesn’t fit like a glove when she says it.
Like the ring I had designed will fit her cute little finger.
She doesn’t know it, but soon she will be Sienna Deangelo.
I got it made days after I saw her in Club Nero’s.
My dark heart recognized its soulmate. I was waiting for hers to do the same.
“Damon.” Marcello’s voice pierces our moment, and I pull back from Sienna.
But I keep her close, my arm wrapping around her waist while tucking her against my side.
Marcello already knows what she is to me.
How important. With our many years together, I admit he is someone who knows me better than most.
“It was a good fight, no?” Marcello looks at Sienna, waiting for a response.
“I suppose…” Sienna mumbles, looking up at me in confusion.
Marcello laughs, clearly seeing how uncomfortable Sienna is. She has no idea what any of this is about or what I have been doing for the last couple of nights.
“Come, we will all have a drink.” Marcello raises his brow to one of his guys standing nearby, who brings me my clothes.
I release Sienna and step back, giving me room to pull on my shirt.
Her eyes burn a trail on my skin, flicking back up to meet mine when the hem of my shirt falls into place.
A beautiful blush sits on her cheeks, and she looks away.
This is the first time she has seen me with my shirt off.
Fuck. I don’t mind. If she enjoys it, I would gladly wear nothing. With her following suit.
Before I can pull her back against me, the shrill voice of Alessandro’s cousin makes Sienna jump.
The same woman from the first night I came here who looked at me with recognition, while I couldn’t remember her at all.
Alessandro told me yesterday about his cousin's interest in me, which I brushed off with the uninterest I felt.
“Damon! Here, have some water. You must be thirsty after that fight.” She smiles sweetly, holding a water bottle out to me.
When I don’t take it, she lowers her hand, not even bristling at the direct rejection but instead redirecting her attention to Sienna.
She flicks her hair over her shoulder and looks my rainbow up and down, tilting her head as she frowns in disapproval, telling me she may be next on the list of people I murder.
She doesn’t even realize how fucking pale and utterly unimportant she is in comparison to my light. I can see. Every man within eyes can, many of them averting their gaze as soon as I notice. Even Alessandro is looking at Sienna with a look I know. He wants her. They all do. But she is mine.
They wouldn’t dare fuck with what is mine, and yet this bitch, so small, so utterly minuscule in looks, personality, sheer existence, thinks she can? She must have a death wish or be completely fucking unaware of how precarious her situation is right now. How close to becoming unalived she is.
“Hi. I am Damon’s friend and Alessandro’s cousin, Georgia.
And you are?” Friend. Since when. I haven’t said one word to her, and yet night after night, she has tried to get my attention, her efforts only resulting in making her more repulsive to me and more desperate.
My lack of attention seems to equate to a friendship.
She is more fucking delusional than even I am.
This also might be her mistake. This made-up friendship left her under the impression that my blade wouldn't find its way in between the two implants mercilessly squeezed up in a bra two sizes too small.
“Sienna,” my girl replies, but how she says it tells me she is unhappy with this bitch’s presence. It isn’t jealousy. She is agitated. The odds are stacked against the woman whose name I haven’t bothered remembering. Tortured Tits it is.
“Nice to meet you. I haven’t seen you around these last couple of days. I suppose this kind of sport can be disturbing for some women. Not me. I have been here for all of Damon’s fights.”
Alessandro nudges Georgia, clearly understanding that this situation will not end well for her if she carries on with this innuendo of familiarity.
If she continues trying to allude to something more than the nothingness that existed between us, there would be fucking trouble.
Which would not be good as she was part of Marcello’s family.
“Ah, well, so have half the women here, I suppose,” Sienna sweetly responds, her hand sweeping the crowd around us.
“Fangirls of sorts. That’s cute. I might not have been here the last few nights, but I am there when he gets home.
In bed. Waiting. Isn’t that right, Daddy Damon?
” Sienna drags the last words out and then flutters her lashes as she looks up at me, clearly enjoying riling up Tortured Tits as much as I am watching it happen.
Daddy Damon. She knows what that does to me, and I don’t bother hiding the erection as it stiffens between us. Everyone, including this pale-in-comparison spoiled bitch, should see who my cock’s owner is.
“That’s right,” I grind out, wrapping my arm around Sienna and turning her back towards the bitch while I cup and squeeze her right ass cheek, staring straight at her. “There is nothing better than coming home to my woman.”
Tortured Tit's sister, who has been standing silently next to her but clearly enjoying this little interaction, now full-on snorts and then howls out in laughter as the bitch huffs and then stomps off.
“Leave her. She must learn she cannot have everything she wants,” Marcello says dismissively before leading us out of the crowd.
“We will meet you there. I need to shower and change.” Marcello nods in agreement. Then he, followed by Lucy and Alessandro, makes his way up some stairs to a quieter VIP section on the top floor overlooking the warehouse .
But not before he shouts, “Perhaps a cold one would be best!”
I let go of Sienna's waist and grab her hand before approaching a small door near the bar area.
“Jimmy,” I greet the barman as he buzzes me in through the door.
Sienna is quiet, but I can tell questions are simmering.
“You are not angry I am here?” Eventually, she breaks our silence.
“I knew you were coming. Bob let me know when you left the building. I also saw the missed call from Jordan.”
“That doesn’t exactly answer my question, Damon.
Why didn’t you tell me tonight was the party Marcello invited us both to?
And what are you even doing here? Fighting.
Hurting yourself. What happens if one of those guys does serious damage to you?
I’m no expert, but it doesn’t look like the type of fighting with rules.
What if—” Sienna’s voice breaks, and she looks away just as we enter the changing room used by some of Alessandro’s fighters.
Empty for now. After the second day, he gave me a locker so that I could hang a spare change of clothes.
I gently grip Sienna’s chin, forcing her to look at me.
“I’m not angry you are here, but I want you to be safe when you go out. I didn’t tell you about the party because I didn’t think you would come. I didn’t want to put you in a situation so soon when you might not be ready.” Sienna’s chin trembles, and then a sob escapes her.
“Why are you fighting?”
That question was the most difficult to answer.
How did I tell Sienna all the things that had been unsaid so far?
I stalked you before I officially met you.
Your rapist is a pawn in a twisted game being played for revenge against me.
Your ordeal was recorded and posted on a website, where 1,322 people watched it before Jordan could take it down. Based on what my team could dig up, all of them are now suffering financial loss or criminal charges. Some local ones were already fodder for the rats in the warehouse.
How did I tell her that seeing that video and what she went through tore through my soul, and when I tried to put it back together, all that was left was anger and vengeance—more darkness than ever before?
How did I tell her that I did indeed blame myself for all of this but couldn’t extricate myself from her life because I was selfish and wanted her?
Had to have her.
Was I just like her stalker? The question ate away at me, and the only way I could rid myself of it for a couple of moments was out there. Fighting physical demons instead of the ones I couldn’t see.
“You won’t talk to me. I don’t know what's going on inside of you. It’s not fair because I feel like you know me too well. Even better than I know myself. That sounds cliché, but it’s true, Damon.” She looks away, battling with something.
“Maybe even better than James did,” she finally says, so quietly that I wonder if I have heard her right.
When she looks up, the guilt on her face tells me I have.