Chapter 10
Light
Brad hugs me so tight I can barely breathe. Just when I think I might pass out, Damon comes to my rescue.
The way he clears his throat is so menacing that all three of our heads turn to look at him. Even with his mask on, you can see he is not happy. If looks could kill. Never has that saying been more accurate than at this very moment.
Damon is eyeing Brad like he is a dead man walking.
“Hands.” One word. Not shouted. Not a raised tone in sight. And yet, Brad stiffens in response, slowly putting me down before taking a step back. The warning absolutely clear.
My stupid stomach does flip-flops, the red flag waving proudly in the wind. Yet, I choose to ignore it. His behavior opens a faucet, and I fear the little object in my vagina might fall out at this rate.
“My, my,” Mrs. Samson, or as she is now called, Lady Chatman, says as she steps forward between Brad and Damon, a large, mischievous smile on her face .
I remember Gael mentioning her arrival on my first day at Sin , after Damon and I had the little heated conversation about my ponytails. By the time I composed myself, she had left, so I never saw her then.
I step back, and simultaneously, Damon closes the distance between us.
His hand circles my waist, pulling me close to him.
His gaze remains leveled at Brad, who, surprisingly, doesn’t flinch. I would if I were on the receiving end of the death glare.
Brad frowns, breaking eye contact with Damon. The smile from moments ago has fled, as has the warmth.
“Does your brother know you are here? And in such…questionable company?”
Wow. Indignation rises, and I tense ever so slightly.
“Does this company not include yourselves?” Damon answers before I can, his tone one I have not heard before. It is more dangerous. Edgier.
“I’m thirty-five years old, Brad. Old enough to make my own decisions. I can choose the company I want to keep, and if that is Damon’s, then that is my choice. I trust you, of all people, to understand this?” Words finally find their way out of my mouth and come out clipped. For once, I don’t care.
I knew Brad from high school, which is also where I met Lady Chatman.
Although, all those years back, she was Mrs. Samson.
Librarian at the local community library and part of the school committee.
Definitely not the woman standing before me in a tight black leather dress, thigh-high black leather boots, and an elegant red mask.
And definitely not turning forty-five right now.
Add on ten years, and that would be more accurate.
Toward the end of high school, Brad started hanging around with a group of students who were accused of performing satanic rituals. Complete hogwash. Rumors spread by those in the community who were ignorant and shit-stirrers. Just because the group wore black and listened to heavy metal.
It got so bad that Brad and, by extension, his mother were practically spurned from the community. Mrs. Samson lost her job, and no one in town would hire her. It was why they left town shortly after he graduated from high school.
Damon's eyes on my face, and the anger I feel flush my cheeks red. And for once, I hate it. I hated justifying my actions to anyone, especially someone I had last spoken to when James died and who doesn’t even know me now.
The silence drags on for over a minute.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake. Brad, apologize. You sound like a jealous ex-boyfriend. Sienna can do whatever she wants.” Lady Chatman swats her son’s shoulder lightly, her stern tone similar to my mother's when reprimanding me.
“Sorry, Sienna. It’s not my place. Of course, you can do whatever you like. I was just looking out for you.” I almost laugh. He sounds like a ten-year-old being forced to return someone else’s toy. The only saving grace is the bit of sincerity accompanying the words.
“I look out for her.” Damon’s words make me smile, but they do not have the same effect on Brad. The dip of his eyebrows and the pull of his mouth indicate his disbelief.
“Heaven help us. Off you go before you are late.” Lady Chatman pushes Brad toward the front door.
“Bye, Si. Stay in touch, okay?” I don’t get a chance to respond before the door is closed behind him.
“Do not kill my son.” Lady Chatman’s words are delivered jokingly, but her gaze locks onto Damon with something deeper—like she genuinely wonders if he might actually murder Brad. Thankfully, a few seconds later, she breaks the tension, her earlier smile returning to light up her beautiful face.
“My son does not stay for my parties. That would be too awkward. At least now I can join in the fun. So…” Lady Chatman claps her hands together, her eyes drifting between me and Damon.
“Shall we?” She seems almost giddy, and given that she doesn’t like her son staying for the event, I wonder what we will be walking into.
Damon’s hand doesn’t stray from my lower back as we follow Lady Chatman up one of the sweeping double stairways leading up to the mansion’s second floor. It was straight out of a movie.
“I know you must be shocked, Sienna. The last time you saw me, my prospects were looking rather bleak. But then I met my late husband, bless his beautiful soul. Owner of the largest tech company in the world. NewTech. Pays for all this.” Her hand sweeps the large room we are walking through, the marble floor and gold trimmings, a theme throughout the house, attesting to its extravagance.
I have never seen such wealth before. It is utterly unbelievable.
“He also introduced me to a side of myself I didn’t know even existed. Much the same as Damon is, I assume.” She glances over her shoulder, and her words make me blush as memories of everything new I’ve experienced since meeting Damon flood my mind.
At the same time, his hand travels down, grazing the top of my ass.
I don’t dare look at him, scared I will combust into a million pieces.
This is how he makes me feel. On the edge of existence.
One look, one touch, breaking me into a million tiny pieces that want to be here and everywhere all at once.
If exhilarating could be defined, this is it.
As we progress through the mansion, a distinct change in the lighting occurs. While the entrance was well-lit, the lighting becomes dim and sensual, a red glow adding to the latter .
“Did Damon tell you about my parties?” Lady Chatman asks, stopping just before an archway. The noise behind her tells us that we have reached our destination.
I look at Damon, his expression giving nothing away as his dark chocolate eyes meet mine.
Shaking my head draws a chuckle from Lady Chatman.
“Naughty boy.” Lady Chatman admonishes Damon, who shrugs his shoulders indifferently.
“Well, you are lucky, then. This one is tame compared to the norm.”
Lady Chatman enters the room, and as I am about to follow, Damon grabs my hand, halting me.
“I got you something.” In his hand is a small black box. Indiscernible.
My gaze meets his, his once again scorching my skin and leaving me feeling burned. I lift the lid off the box, revealing a delicate gold bracelet featuring a stone similar to the one on the necklace I am wearing—the necklace from my secret admirer.
Damon’s fingers easily unclip the clasp, and he holds the ends open.
I turn my wrist and hold it out. My eyes remain on his face as he clasps the bracelet, his thumb caressing the vein on my wrist as he does.
No doubt, alluding to my inner state as it pulses erratically.
Why is every interaction with him so intense? Does he feel the same way?
He doesn’t let go of my hand. Instead, his fingers intertwine with mine as the bracelet lightly shifts against my skin.
I imagine this must be what being born is like—to feel everything intensely as it happens. Life dulls us down until, finally, someone awakens your soul, your body, and every molecule. You start feeling everything again—even the minute things.
We walk into the room, a massive hall with a large dance floor. In the front is a huge rectangular stage where a band is playing. The singer looks familiar, though I can't place her, as is the song she sings. It is sensual and slow, with couples already on the dance floor swaying to the music.
Scattered around the room are couches, with some tables and chairs dotted in between. Comfortable and intimate rather than the formal setup I was expecting. In the corner of a room, surrounded by even more couches, are two stripper poles, though currently, they are unused.
Another thing I notice is how plush the carpet is. It is like walking on the carpeting in Sin's back offices.
Damon and I head to the bar, where he orders me a glass of champagne and their finest whiskey. However, I could tell by the slight pinch of his mouth that it wasn’t to his taste.
“Missing your usual?” I ask him, pointing to the drink he holds.
“I am a creature of habit.” Was he? I never took him for that.
He leads us to a table in a secluded section close to the back of the hall.
Two other couples are seated across from us, a tip of their heads and a smile the only interaction.
The music here isn’t too loud, which makes talking somewhat easier.
After everything between Damon and me, I still feel like I don’t even know him.
I study his side profile as his gaze sweeps the room, those lips meeting his glass as the brown liquid disappears into a mouth I have dreamt of kissing. We had done other things—intimate things—yet we still hadn’t even kissed.
Wasn’t that strange?
“You are staring at me.” Damon calling me out on my blatant perusal of him makes me blush as I whip my gaze to the dance floor .
Now I can feel him staring at me. I meet his gaze.
What was I even doing here with him? How had he, in less than three weeks, managed to weave himself not just into my life but into my mind, body, and soul?