Chapter Fifteen
Amelia
I think I’m in love with a hitman.
Is he still a hitman? I don’t know. But that doesn’t change the fact that he was, at some point. Not by his own free will, but still. What is my life turning into?
It was simpler in my small village, where even if there was a villain, everyone knew to stay away. The villain was dangerous. Unlovable.
Here?
I’m falling in love with the villain. A man with blood on his hands. A man who stalks me, suffocates me, worships me. The same man who handed me his credit card with a smirk and said, Shop until you drop, little flower. And if you do, I’ll carry you home.
The worst part? I can’t resist anymore.
Damien is withering away every sense of reason telling me this is wrong. That I’ll end up hurt. That I should run while I still can. Instead, I’m standing in the middle of a boutique where a single dress costs more than my paycheck. I’m trying on luxury, slipping into indulgence, sinking into a world I don’t belong to; but one Damien is dragging me into, whether I like it or not.
“Oh.”
The sound is thick with condescension, and it comes from the same woman I met that day at the restaurant. She was bad then, she’s worse now.
She looks so perfect it makes me want to throw something at her. But she’s sneering at me like she’s waiting for me to explain myself, as if I need permission to be here.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she mutters.
I give her the same once-over. “Neither did I.”
She smiles, the kind of smile people sharpen their knives behind. “Shopping here? You must’ve taken a wrong turn. Or are you just… browsing?”
“Why? You work here?”
Putting people down isn’t my thing, and I thought it would never be my thing. Yet here I am, matching her energy.
Her lips press together like she didn’t expect I’d fire back at her.
“I’m Linda,” she hisses, like giving me her name is a privilege I should bask in.
“Amelia,” I whisper. Damn me, I really struggle with assertiveness. “Nice to meet you, Linda.”
“So, Amelia,” she purrs, eyeing the dresses in my hand, “who’s paying for all this?”
Everything clicks. No woman is this cruel to another unless it’s about a man. My hunch? This girl has her eyes set on Damien. Nothing else would make sense. I was polite to her that day at the restaurant, sweet, even. This hatred, this viciousness, it has to be because she thinks I’m trampling over something that belongs to her.
I keep my face impassive. “Who do you think?”
“Sweetheart, I think we both know exactly what he’s doing.”
Fire licks at my veins. “Do we?”
“Damien,” she says, testing my reaction. “He gets bored easily, you know. Boys will be boys. He’s playing with you now, but eventually, he’ll come back to where he belongs.”
Inside, something tightens. It tightens and tightens and tightens until I feel like I need to gasp for air. I hate that for a split second, doubt curls in my stomach. But I don’t let it show.
“If that’s true, why are you here, Linda?”
She gapes at me.
“If Damien always comes back to you, why are you chasing me down?” I let out a laugh, though this crap isn’t comical at all.
“You sure seem awfully worried about me.”
“Maybe,” I continue, “it’s because while you’re here trying to get under my skin, Damien has been busy—taking me to dinner, buying me gifts, wrapping his hands around me—” I stop myself with a small, amused hum, like I’ve just remembered where we are. “Oops. Never mind.”
I’ve never been—dare I say—a bitch. Yet here I am...
Her jaw clenches. Her face and ears turn red, and she looks like she wants to lunge at me.
“You think you’re special?” She leans in so close I can smell her expensive perfume. “Do you know that man killed for me?”
What?
My monster killed for her ?
“Damien brought me the head of the man who hurt me,” she breathes, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “He’s the kind of man who will do anything for the woman he loves. And I am that woman, no matter how much he strays.”
I feel the blow land somewhere deep in my ribs. I want to be the only one who makes Damien that crazy. The only one who twists him up until he’s on his knees for me. The only one he would kill for. I don’t want this to be true. I don’t want to believe she meant something to him. That she was once the woman who made him unravel. That the side of him I thought was only mine had belonged to someone else first.
“And yet, here you are. Fighting for scraps.”
Linda goes rigid.
I turn to the cashier, who is actively pretending she hasn’t been eavesdropping on our altercation.
“I’ll take all of these.”
The card Damien gave me slides through the machine without hesitation. Linda’s eyes burn into the side of my face, but I don’t acknowledge her.
I meet her gaze one last time. “Enjoy your memories, Linda. It seems like that’s all you have left.”
I walk out, my heart pounding, fingers tight around the bags. Because no matter what I said, or how confident I tried to appear, I still felt like crying.
My heels slam against the pavement. I’m fueled by pure rage. I don’t think I’ve ever been this angry. Ever. Linda’s words replay in my head like a broken record.
He killed for me.
Damien brought me the head of the man who hurt me.
Of course he did. Of course Damien was once unhinged like that for someone else too. I hate how it burns.
The soft purr of an engine glides beside me. A sleek black Porsche keeps pace with me like it has all the time in the world. Like I don’t exist outside of it. I already know who it is without even having to look.
The window rolls down. “Get in.”
His voice. Deep. Velvety. It still pulls me in, despite how badly I want to kill him right now.
I keep walking. “No.”
Damien takes off his sunglasses, revealing the piercing blue eyes I refuse to meet.
“I see my little flower wants to be disobedient.”
He parks.
Oh, hell no.
I start running, but the bastard is faster. One second I’m storming away, and the next, I’m airborne.
“Damien!” I shriek as he throws me over his shoulder.
“Mm.” His grip tightens around my thighs as he strides back to the car. “That little attitude of yours is fucking adorable.”
He tosses the bags into the backseat before shoving me inside.
“You can’t manhandle me.”
“Watch me.”
He’s so annoying.
“Now, tell me what’s wrong with you,” he grunts.
I fold my arms across my chest. “You’re a liar.”
“I’ve never lied to you. And I never will.” His voice is softer now, but there’s steel underneath it. “Tell me what’s got you so angry. Let me prove to you that your man will never displease you.”
I suck in a breath, my resolve teetering. But the jealousy surges again.
“You told me I was the only woman you ever chased. The only one you were obsessed with.”
“You are.”
“Well, that’s interesting, because I just had a very enlightening conversation with a woman who thinks otherwise.”
“Who?” That singular word comes out of his mouth like a death sentence.
“Linda.” I nearly spit her name. “She told me you killed for her.”
A muscle in his jaw ticks. “That bitch.”
“Seriously?”
“Don’t believe a word she said.”
I shake my head. “Did. You. Kill. For. Her?”
“I did.”
I reach for the door handle, but Damien is faster. He grabs my wrist and yanks me over until I’m straddling his thighs, his arms locking me in place. His scent invades my senses, cologne, leather, and something purely him.
“It was a job. A hit her father paid me for,” he growls. “She was nothing. It meant nothing.”
Maybe I should’ve realized, the moment I felt relief over the fact that he killed because it was business, not love, that it was the moment I lost my mind.
At that instant, I didn’t care that Damien kills people for money. All I cared about was that he didn’t kill because he loved Linda .
My nails dig into his shoulders, frustration boiling over.
“But me? You obsess over me?”
His grip tightens, his fingers bruising against my waist.
“I’d kill someone for just looking at you wrong.”
His voice drops lower, rough with something almost feral.
“And if that bitch wasn’t a woman, she wouldn’t be breathing right now.”
His words settle into my bones. Violent. Possessive. Unshaken. I believe him. But it doesn’t erase the jealousy clawing through my veins.
I glower at him. Mine. Mine. Mine.
“Still angry, little flower?”
I don’t answer.
“Mark me. Claim me. Make sure everyone I interact with knows I belong to you.”
The challenge is too tempting. Before I can think, I grab his hair and pull his head back. I sink my teeth into his neck. Hard. Again. Harder. My lips trace fire down his throat, my teeth leaving bruises in their wake. A bite. A kiss. Another mark. And another. Until his neck is littered with evidence of me.
His hands fist in my dress, his breathing ragged. “Fuck.”
I pull back, my lips tingling. Damien’s pupils are blown wide, his expression wrecked.
“Mine,” I whisper.
“Say it again.”
I graze my teeth over his jaw. “Mine.”
Damien grabs my hand and places it over his heart.
“No one makes me feel like this but you.” His lips ghost over my ear. “And no one ever will.”