Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
“Thank you for the flower, Damien,” I smile, taking a small sniff of the rose, then handing it to Grace. The three girls don’t seem shocked at all, though they turn their backs to us, sipping on the drinks, and trying to act as though they’re not trying to listen in.
“You’re welcome,” he takes my hand in his, pressing a soft kiss to the back of my palm. “Would you like to dance with me?”
“Sure.”
He holds my hand tightly, leading me through the crowded venue, until we reach the dance floor.
The band’s playing a soft song, perfect for a slow dance.
His left hand reaches behind, splaying on the small of my back, and pulling me closer to him, the other holding my hand, interlocking our fingers together.
My hand is on his shoulder, and although the proximity isn’t making me uncomfortable, it’s odd. The girls have successfully whispered in my ear, and now I’m second-guessing everything in regards to Damien and his feelings for me.
“You look beautiful, Soph,” he offers a smile. “You’re the most beautiful woman here tonight.”
“Ah, flattery?” I laugh as he spins us around. “Can’t say that I mind. Do inflate my ego more, please.”
He deadpans. “I don’t think that’s possible. Your ego’s the size of the academy.”
“Why, thank you.”
Damien chuckles. “How’s the break been treating you?”
“Well, I haven’t gotten any time to rest just yet. But I’ll take the days between Christmas and New Year's to sleep and rest plenty, before going back to the academy for the exams.”
“Mine start on the sixth, which gives you five days to tutor me.”
I wince. “I’m not sure that’s entirely possible, but I promise I’ll do my best.”
“And I promise, I’ll give you a thank-you gift.”
“The bag?”
He lifts a brow. “That bag is very hard to find.”
“Mind you, you offered it. You claimed you could find it.”
Damien pulls back a little, sheepish. “I said I’d do my best to find it.”
“And how’s the search going?”
He sighs, exasperated. There’s amusement written all over his expression, and he’s struggling to suppress a smile. “You won’t let go of this, will you?”
“Absolutely not,” I grin. “Not until the bag is in my possession, at least.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll do my best.”
“You better.”
Damien pulls me back to him again, his lips brushing against my ear. Shivers run down my spine when his hot breath tickles my sensitive skin. He’s silent for a moment, then he pulls me even closer to him.
“You truly do look beautiful, Soph.” His voice is a low murmur, and I close my eyes for a moment. He’s so close to me, and he smells beautifully. Yet, it’s not what I want. It’s not what I need, or what I’m yearning for.
“Thank you,” I mutter.
And when I open my eyes, I peek over his shoulder.
All air leaves my body, and it’s as though my lungs collapse. My throat goes dry, and the moment Soren and I make eye contact, tingling sensations spread all through my body.
He’s wearing a tailored suit, and even over the blazer I can see the outline of his toned, muscled arms. His shirt hugs his body perfectly, and the way his hair’s styled just makes the man a hundred times more attractive.
And he’s staring right at me.
His eyes tell me everything I need to know — he is very, very angry.
His jaw is clenched, a storm brewing behind the calm exterior he tries to portray.
But it’s failing, because I can see right through the facade he’s used to putting on.
The mask has started to crack, and I’m terrified of what it means.
Because a month ago, I never would’ve noticed such a thing.
Soren grabs a glass of whiskey from a waiter who’s passing by with a tray, his eyes never leaving mine. With his free hand, he’s holding Nina’s smaller one. She’s as bubbly and as chatty as ever, and somehow, she resembles him more than she resembles their parents.
I’m snapped out of my thoughts when Damien pulls back, releasing the hold on my back and hand. There’s worry in his eyes as he takes a good look at me.
“Is everything okay, Soph? Do you need a break?”
I throw a smile on my face, then peek back over his shoulder, only to see that Nina’s being taken by one of the babysitters of the evening, and Soren’s nowhere in sight. It sends a wave of anxiety down my back, but I force myself to look back at Damien.
“Just a little. I’ll go to the restroom quickly. You should go and take a seat; the dinner will be served shortly.”
Damien nods, albeit reluctantly. He takes another step away from me, then walks off toward the spot where his family is. Immediately, I walk back to the bar, downing my martini in one, harsh go.
“Whoa, slow down,” Grace frowns. “Is everything okay?”
“No,” I mumble, then order another glass. “Micro’s here.”
“We knew he’d come,” Avalon chimes in. “Why’s that got you so… rattled and unsettled?”
“I’m unsettled because he’s angry.”
Lila scoffs, sipping on her cocktail. “When is he not angry?”
“That’s beside the point,” I groan. “He seems too angry tonight.”
“Then just don’t poke the bear,” Grace suggests. “Steer clear of him, and for the love of God, do not, under any circumstances, try to argue with him tonight. I’ve spotted reporters.”
Immediately, I tense up. “Reporters? There shouldn’t be any.”
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” Grace sighs. “They snuck in somehow. Be on your best behavior.”
“Fine, fine,” I nod. “I’ll go to the restroom quickly.”
“If you need a moment alone, I’d suggest taking the elevator and going to the one on the third floor. Fewer people.”
“Good point, thanks.”
With a sigh, I turn on my heel and walk toward the elevator, pressing the button. I tap my foot against the floor impatiently, checking my phone for time every so often. As soon as the elevator arrives, I step inside, pressing the button for the third floor.
I lean against the wall of the elevator, my arms crossed in front of me. The elevator stops on the second floor, and I roll my eyes at the thought of not having a single moment of peace tonight.
But then the door opens and reveals Soren.
He steps inside immediately, turning his back to me, and pressing the button to close the door. Then, as soon as we start moving up, he presses the pause button, and we’re caught mid-floor. My eyes widen, and I push myself off the wall.
“What are you doing?”
He finally turns to face me, rage flooding his features. His jaw is clenched tightly, and the glare filled with pure rage makes me falter in my steps. Soren takes two menacing steps toward me, his towering body forcing me to look up.
“Did you have fun, Sloane?”
I narrow my eyes. “Did I have fun doing what?”
I’m unsure why, but that alone makes him snap. In an instant, his hand is wrapped around my throat, and he’s slamming me against the wall behind me. I gasp for air, and Soren leans in, his face an inch away from mine.
“You know, Princess,” he speaks in a lower tone, the mocking tune behind the nickname sending a wave of irritation down my body. “You really know how to push my buttons, don’t you?”
“I didn’t do anything?”
Soren chuckles, his pupils dilating. Breath hitches in my throat, and he squeezes my neck a little firmer. He’s looking right into my eyes, and he’s barely blinking. This scene is too bizarre for me to comprehend.
“Of course,” he mutters. “Miss Perfect never does anything, does she?”
“Are you going to tell me what this is all about, or are you going to be vague and waste my time all evening?”
“He had his hands all over you, Sloane.”
I blink, taken aback. Then something warm spreads through my chest, and I feel the butterflies that slowly start dancing. My brows narrow, and I try my best to stop the trembling of my body.
“Are you jealous, Soren?”
“Jealous? No,” he chuckles, then leans in further.
His head dips to my exposed shoulder, the very same spot I spent two hours trying to cover up the remaining marks the bastard left on me during our time at the camp.
He presses soft kisses all along the line of my throat, then goes down, nibbling on my collarbone. “I’m very territorial, Princess.”
“There’s nothing to be territorial about, Soren,” I grit out. “I’m not yours to be so possessive of.”
“Oh, but you are,” he mutters, then pulls back to look at me directly. “The moment you allowed me to fuck you, you became mine. Now, whether you accept it or not is a ‘you’ problem, really.”
“Soren…” I warn, though my voice comes out as a desperate, soft plea.
His hand moves from my throat, gently tracing the outline of my collarbone. The other one slowly travels down to my mid-thigh, and he scrunches the fabric of my dress in his hand, then starts pulling it up, until he can touch my bare inner thigh.
“Yes, Princess?” He mutters, his eyes transfixed on the way his thumb is rubbing the inside of my thigh.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, trying to keep my voice calm and steady. I fail miserably, and Soren’s eyes flick up to meet mine, a wicked gleam hidden behind his hazel eyes.
“I’m just reminding you of who you belong to, Princess. Because it seems like you’ve forgotten.”
“You’re absolutely insane,” I breathe out.
“Perhaps,” he chuckles. “But it’s all your fault. This isn’t a new thing, Sloane. All these years, all of this back and forth, do you honestly believe any of that was an accident?”
“What?”
He hums. “I’ve planned everything. From our first meeting as children, to this right now.”
“You couldn’t have possibly planned me leaking your sex tape and tattooing you.”
“No, of course not. Neither did I predict you’d smash my knee, but God, I love when you’re unpredictable. Just like you didn’t predict I’d fuck you while a snake was all over you, huh?”
“Soren…”
“Shut up, Sloane,” he hisses, his hand traveling up my leg, reaching the hem of my underwear. He traces his finger over the lace gently, a low groan slipping past his lips. “God, lingerie? Sometimes, it’s like you’re begging to be fucked.”
“Look, Soren,” I swallow thickly, trying to squeeze my legs shut together, but his hand is right there, preventing it from happening. “What happened at the camp was a one-time thing, and in my dorm. Which, by the way, I should bash your skull in for.”
“Then why are you soaked for me, Princess?” He murmurs, rubbing my clit over the underwear. And the bastard is right — I’m soaked. “Or are you drenched for Damien, hmm?”
“What? No! I don’t see him that way.”
“Good,” he says. “Because that’s the only reason the bastard’s still breathing.”
I don’t get the chance to question him, because his lips fall on mine. Instantly, it’s a war of a kiss. A battle of possession, deeply rooted obsession, and the fluttering in my chest intensifies when he grabs the back of my neck, pulling me closer.
His tongue slides into my mouth, and my heart almost leaps straight out of my chest. He continues to rub me over the thin underwear that’s beyond salvaging, my moans filling the elevator.
“Soren,” I gasp into the kiss. “We shouldn’t.”
“We really shouldn’t,” he confirms. “But fuck doesn’t it feel good?”
He doesn’t stop kissing me. In fact, it’s like he’s entirely devouring me. My hands move to his hair on their own accord, threading through the thick, dark locks and pulling him even closer. The bastard dares to smirk into the kiss, then pulls back a little, pressing his forehead against mine.
“Someone will come looking for us.”
“Then, I’d better make it quick, huh?”