CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DAMIEN
Three Years Ago
I thought I was done with it. A year ago I signed a deal with Gabriel Solis. A mutually beneficial deal. I helped him in saving his company. And he gave his daughter to my family. She’s younger so I figured she’d make a wife for Dante. Fuck knows he needs one.
My father always said Dante was ice and I was fire. I burn everything in my path. Dante, though? He freezes it. Slows it down. Numbs it.
Ice doesn’t cause immediate destruction like fire, but it lingers. It creeps in, quiet and deadly, until you're paralyzed before you even realize you’re dying.
Dante’s cunning and sometimes unpredictable? I’m the wildfire they can’t contain.
Which is why I sent him away. Because I trust him more than anyone else alive and I knew he had what it took to take care of business for me in Chicago.
I needed eyes and ears there. Someone to control that branch of the Cosa Nostra.
Dante went when I asked. But he wasn’t too happy about leaving home.
So giving him a wife was a way to pacify him.
Which brings me to my next point. I thought I was done with it all. I have an agreement with Gabriel Solis that his daughter will be made aware of the situation and brought into the family once she’s 23. That’s in a year. A year until she becomes my brother’s wife and she has no idea.
I’m not saying I feel bad for her. I’m just wondering how a girl like that lives. No idea how much her life is about to change. Which is why I’m here. Out of mere curiosity.
I’m regretting that right now though. The party I’m currently at is loud and garish. The music is calling for an impending headache. I move through the crowd unnoticed, my eyes peeled as I try to find the woman my brother is meant to marry.
I eventually spot her weaving through the throng of guests, her laughter a little too lose, her steps a little too light.
She doesn’t seem drunk, but she’s definitely not completely in charge of her faculties.
I watch as she speaks to several people, her eyes wide and bright, her movements seamless.
She’s thriving, in her element. The way I must seem when I cut someone to pieces.
And then she starts walking towards the door, pushing it open and disappearing into the cool night. I didn’t plan on speaking to her. Or letting her see me at all. But something pushes me outside, towards her. I follow her, curious.
She stands alone outside, barefoot on the stone patio, heels dangling from one hand, head tilted back to the stare at the stars.
And she’s smiling. She smiles like the weight of the world can’t touch her. Like she’s invincible. It’s the kind of smile that brings men to their knees. Innocent, dangerous. I feel a sudden urge to capture her smile. Keep it forever.
“Why are you staring at me like a creep?”
I startle slightly, surprised she heard me walking up.
She’s still staring up at the stars, and acting all too calm for a woman in a secluded environment alone and vulnerable.
I don’t move, I don’t say a word until she eventually turns around to face me.
Wide hazel eye, a flush on her cheeks from the alcohol I’m guessing.
She stares at me for a beat, her gaze perusing and all too probing.
“Who are you? You don’t seem like one of Leo’s friends,” she questions.
“Leo?” I drawl, stepping forward a little.
“The guy who threw this party? It’s his birthday.”
“I see. So he’s responsible for this,” I pause, looking for an appropriate word, “Circus.”
She snorts, “It’s a party. You sound like an old man.”
“I’m not old, bella .”
Her brows furrow, “My name’s Cassandra not Bella.”
“It’s Italian, sweetheart. It means beautiful,” I smirk.
“Of course Mr. mysterious, dark and handsome is Italian,” she murmurs.
I arch an eyebrow, slightly amused. She leans against the wall, way too comfortable for my tastes.
“What are you doing here, Mr. Italian?”
“What are you doing here?” I return curiously.
“Honestly, I have no idea,” she sighs, her eyes practically burning into me. “I don’t even like Leo. He’s a pig. I just thought a party would help.”
“With what?”
“Feeling alive,” she murmurs. “It’s weird isn’t it? Living without feeling like you are. Something it hurts. Just how much I need to feel.”
Her words strike a chord within me. I feel my throat dry, unable to believe someone could describe my feelings so accurately.
It’s also crazy, that a person that seems so full of life could feel that way.
But I guess it’s a human thing. We’re bound to always wish for more.
Racing to fill a void that seems unreachable. Feeling empty.
“These days, I take any chance I can get to feel. Getting drunk and dancing is one of those ways,” she continues.
“Surely there are other less mind-numbing ways that would provide the same effect.”
She smiles, “But this way’s fun. The things that hurt you can also help you. Nothing in life’s a straight line.”
“Life isn’t simply black and white?”
“Exactly. You’re actually cool. For you know, a stranger.”
“My name’s Damien,” I inform her.
“Nice to meet you, Damien. You’re very good looking,” she states. “In like an intimidating me. I don’t know if I want to run right now or sit on your face sort of way.”
“You always say everything on your mind?” I question amused.
She laughs, “Only when I’ve had a couple of glasses of whiskey and meet the most interesting and dare I say attractive man I’ve ever seen in one night, it’s not even my birthday,” she says jokingly. “It’s freeing, though. You should try it.”
“Try what?”
“Tell me what’s on your mind, Damien. Let loose a little. It might do you a bit of good.”
“What makes you think I don’t let loose?” I question raising a brow.
She points at my shirt, “The stuffy-looking three-piece suit was my first inclination. Don’t get me wrong, you look hot. But you’re giving me businessman who takes everything too seriously vibes.”
Close enough. I do conduct business. Just not the savory kind.
“And how would you suggest I let loose?”
“There are endless possibilities,” she says, eyes intense as she looks straight into my eyes. “Sex for one.”
I feel my heart jump. Okay, the woman is definitely trouble.
She’s laughing a second later, “I was joking! Oh my God, Damien. I don’t proposition strangers.”
“And yet,” I drawl, stepping forward, “You just did, sweetheart.”
I’m not sure what she sees in my expression but she sobers up, her eyes growing wider.
“Take your own advice, Cassandra. Tell me what’s on your mind. What are you thinking right now?”
She’s quiet for a second before speaking, “I’m thinking you’re very dangerous, Damien.”
“You have no idea,” I murmur.
She’s like a siren calling to me. I’m helpless, unable to stop myself from being caught in her net. My eyes flick down to her lips and my jaw clenches.
I don’t think I’ve wanted to kiss anyone as bad as I want to kiss her right now.
“How old are you?” she asks randomly.
The question is a little unexpected so it does make me pause in my tracks.
“Why are you asking?”
“Because… I can’t seem to place it. Your age.”
I shrug. I suppose there’s nothing wrong with telling her.
“I’m 36, bella .”
Her eyes widen, “Holy shit. You’re like 15 years older than me.”
“14,” I correct gently. “Does that bother you?”
She considers the question for a moment before shaking her head.
“No. I’ve always had a thing for older men.”
Fucking hell.
“You’re dangerous too, Cassandra.”
She laughs, “Dangerous enough that you want to take me home?”
I shake my head, “No. Not quite. Or maybe not yet.”
Her brows furrow in confusion. I raise her hand to the side of her head, brushing back some of her hair. Standing this close to her feels like a drug. One I need injected into my veins.
“I’m going to have to leave you tonight. Before I do something I’ll regret.”
“But doing bad things is so fun, don’t you think?”
“There’s lot of bad things happening in the world, you don’t need to be a party to that.”
“I don’t normally do this, but there’s just something about you. Besides, everything happens for a reason. Even bad things,” she retorts.
I swallow softly. “I have to leave, alright? Goodnight, bella . I head back into the private VIP lounge that was reserved for us and she follows me.” This girl has no idea what she’s getting herself into.
“ Bella , leave,” I command. She doesn’t back away.
Instead, she walks toward me. Like a lioness stalking her prey.
“No,” she says, voice low, smoky. “I think I feel empty… and I want you to fill me up, Mr. Italian.”
She stops in front of me, so close I can feel the heat rolling off her skin, smell the hint of something wild and sweet on her breath.
“Cassandra,” I rasp, already hard just from the way she’s looking at me. “If I fuck you… you’ll be ruined.”
She leans in, her lips brushing my jaw like a dare.
“Well, maybe I want you to ruin me.”
Then she licks her lips—slow and sinful—and I snap.
I grab her hips, slam her back against the wall, and crush my mouth to hers.
Her moan vibrates through me, raw and eager, as my hands slide up the curve of her body.
I hike her dress up around her waist and groan when I find she’s not wearing a bra.
One perfect breast fits in my palm like it belongs there.
The other, I take into my mouth, sucking hard, biting just enough to make her cry out, not from pain—from pleasure laced with the threat of more .
She’s gasping, writhing, already drenched.
I slip a finger inside her.
“Fuck,” I growl. “You’re so wet for me, bella .”
Another finger. Then a third. She arches, crying out, grinding against my palm like she’s desperate for more.
“You want me to fuck you?” I ask, voice dark and dangerous.
“Yes,” she whimpers. “What was that you called me, Mr. Italian? I prefer daddy. Please, who?” “Please… daddy.”
“Shh… be patient for Daddy.”