Chapter 22 Damien
Chapter twenty-two
Damien
I shouldn't have let her go.
The thought kept time in my skull as I watched Emma disappear to the snack room with Vivian, their arms linked like old friends instead of near-strangers still learning each other's names.
What the hell had I been thinking?
Vivian was Vivian—charming and reckless with her tongue. The woman had no filter—never had—and now she was alone with Emma, probably regaling her with every embarrassing detail of our time together.
"Relax." Todd's words cut through my spiral. "Viv's not going to eat her."
I forced my attention back to him, lowering into the armchair across from his. The leather creaked beneath me, familiar and grounding. "I'm relaxed."
"You're chewing through your molars." He stretched back, ankle crossing over his knee with the ease of a man who'd long ago stopped caring what anyone thought of him. "I can hear it from here."
I unclenched my jaw. Deliberately.
The corner of Todd's mouth lifted.
The lounge hummed around us—soft music, softer conversation, the occasional laugh drifting from the pink corner.
I'd spent years in this room. Knew every shadow, every corner, every unspoken rule that governed the space.
But tonight it felt different. Foreign. Like I was seeing it through Emma's eyes instead of my own.
"So." Todd leaned forward, forearms bracing against his thighs. "That's her, huh? The one who finally got you."
"Got me?"
"Don't play dumb. It doesn't suit you." His gaze was knowing. Annoyingly so. "I've known you for what—twelve years? Thirteen? In all that time, I've never seen you look at anyone the way you look at her."
I didn't answer, movement catching my eye—red hair and dark curls emerging from the curtain. My spine straightened, attention tracking Emma as Vivian steered her toward a pair of chairs near the pink corner.
She was scanning the room. Looking for me.
Our gazes locked.
Relief washed over me.
She chose the chair facing outward. The one that kept me in her line of sight.
Good girl.
My mouth curved—small, private—before I turned back to Todd.
He was watching me with a look that bordered on insufferable.
"What?"
"Nothing." He held up his hands, the picture of innocence. "Just enjoying the show."
"There's no show."
"There's absolutely a show." He grinned. "Damien Holt, the man who swore he'd never collar anyone seriously, sitting here looking like a lovesick teenager because his girl chose the right chair."
"I never said I'd never collar anyone seriously."
"You implied it. Loudly. For years." He tilted his head. "What changed?"
What changed?
Everything. Nothing. Emma had walked into my life like an earthquake I hadn't seen coming, and by the time I'd realized the ground was shifting, it was already too late to find stable footing.
"She's different," I said finally. The words were inadequate. Laughably so.
"Different how?"
I stared at my knuckles—no bruises left, no innocence either.
"She doesn't need me."
Todd's brow furrowed. "And that's a good thing?"
"It's the only thing." I paused, searching for words that could capture what Emma was. What she meant. "She runs a company. Commands boardrooms. Makes grown men twice her age sit down and shut up."
"She's intimidating. Brilliant. Beautiful." I glanced at her again. Her curls bouncing as she talked. "And then she chooses to let me in anyway."
Todd was quiet for a moment. Processing.
"That's terrifying," he said at last.
"Yeah." My voice dropped. "It is."
Todd studied me like a knot he meant to understand.
"Does she know?"
"Know what?"
"How far gone you are."
I didn't answer. Across the room, Emma was laughing at something Vivian said, her head tipping back, throat exposed. Even from here, the delicate chain circled her neck. The collar I'd given her.
Mine.
"I haven't told her," I admitted. "Not in words."
"Why not?"
"It's complicated," I said.
Todd snorted. "It's always complicated with you."
She was leaning forward now, mug cradled in her hands, listening to Vivian with an intensity that made my chest ache.
She'd said it first.
The memory surfaced unbidden—sharp and clear, a knife I kept turning over in my hands.
After she'd seen me with my hands in someone else's blood.
I love you.
Three words. Simple. Ruinous.
And I'd locked up.
Not because I didn't feel it. Christ, the depth of it terrified me—this consuming, overwhelming force that had taken root inside me and refused to be dislodged. It surged when she laughed. When she pushed. When she trusted me with things no one else touched.
But the words wouldn't come.
They'd lodged behind walls I'd been building since childhood. Foundations my father had poured, brick by brick, every time he weaponized my mother's love. Turned affection into obligation. Tenderness into debt.
So when Emma had held my gaze with her heart laid bare—
I'd said nothing.
And I'd let the moment pass.
"Hey." Todd pulled me back. "Where'd you go?"
I blinked, refocusing on his face.
"Nowhere," I said. "Just thinking."
"About?"
I shook my head. "Nothing that matters."
The lie tasted bitter on my tongue.
Across the room, Emma laughed again—softer this time, a wistful note beneath it. Vivian reached over and squeezed her hand.
Tell her, a voice inside me screamed. Tell her before she decides your silence is the only answer she'll ever get.
But the words stayed locked behind my teeth.
"So." I cleared my throat, forcing the weight from my tone. "How are things with you two? It's been a while since we've talked."
The deflection was obvious. Todd's raised eyebrow told me he'd caught it.
But he let me have it anyway.
"Things are good. Really good, actually." A tenderness crept into his face that I'd never seen on him before—softer than the sharp-edged Dominant I'd known for over a decade. "We're having a baby."
I straightened. "You're serious?"
"As a heart attack." He grinned, unguarded joy that looked foreign on his face. "We just found out a couple of weeks ago."
"Todd, that's—" I reached over, clasping his shoulder. "Congratulations. Both of you. That's incredible news."
"Thanks, man." He ducked his head, almost sheepish. "It's terrifying as hell, if I'm being honest."
I glanced across the room at Vivian, seeing her differently now. The woman who'd once knelt at my feet, who'd craved structure and rules and the safety of knowing exactly where she stood—she was going to be a mother.
"I'm happy for you," I said, and meant it. "Truly. You two will be great parents."
"We'll see." He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Viv's already brainstorming pregnancy protocols."
I balked. "I'm sorry—what?"
"Yeah, that was my reaction too." Todd's grin widened at my disbelief.
"What does that even mean?"
"Hell if I know." He threw his hands up. "Something about adjusted sleep schedules and nutritional tracking and—I don't know—probably a spreadsheet for vitamin intake. She's got a whole document started."
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. "That sounds exactly like her."
"Right?" He shook his head fondly. "I keep telling her we need to loosen the reins. At least while she's pregnant. The dynamic doesn't have to be so—" He gestured vaguely. "Rigid. We can adapt. Be flexible."
"And?"
"And she's completely opposed." He sighed. "Says the structure is what keeps her grounded. That she'll need it more, not less, when her body starts changing and her hormones go haywire."
"What are you thinking?" I asked.
"I've made a couple decisions, but I'm still torn on some."
I nodded. This was the part most people didn't understand—the weight of it.
They saw the control, the authority, the power, and assumed it was simple.
Easy. They didn't see the hours spent considering the cost. The constant calibration between what your submissive wanted, what they needed, and what was safe.
"Like?"
"Like the kneeling. She greets me at the door every night.
Drops to her knees, waits for permission to rise.
She loves it. I love it. But at seven, eight months pregnant?
" He shook his head. "Her center of gravity's going to be shot.
Her joints are going to be loose. One wrong move and she's falling, hurting herself, hurting the baby. "
"So you're adjusting them?"
"I'm eliminating the ones that don't make sense and modifying the ones that do." Steel crept into his voice. "She doesn't have to like it. I'm the one responsible for her body. For both of them. She just has to trust that I'm making the right call."
This was what it meant to lead.
"How's she taking that?"
A dry laugh punched from him. "About as well as you'd expect.
She pushed back. Hard. Told me the structure was what kept her grounded, that she'd need it more when her body started changing.
" He shrugged. "And she's not wrong. But her emotional needs don't override her physical safety. That's not how this works."
"No," I agreed. "It's not."
"I never thought I'd want this, you know?" he continued, quieter now. "The white picket fence shit. Kids. A family." His head swung to Vivian. "But with her..."
He trailed off. Didn't need to finish.
I understood.
Better than he probably realized.
"What about you two?" He pointed with his chin toward Emma. "How's your newly budding dynamic?"
"Practically non-existent right now," I scoffed wearily, guilt slamming into me. "I've just been so damn exhausted."
Todd nodded. "You've had a lot going on."
"So does she, and I don't want to step into this half-assed." I chuckled. "I have a feeling she isn't going to be an easy submissive anyway. Can't afford to start in the red."
Todd tipped his head back, laughing.
"Smart." He grinned. "How do you plan on starting things back up?"
I turned the question over, settling on the answers that had been circling for weeks now, taking shape in the margins of sleepless nights and stolen moments.
"When I collared her I set a couple of rules," I admitted at last. "Nothing elaborate. Nothing like what you and Viv have. Just... small things."
"Like?"
"She runs herself into the ground," I explained. "Work, the merger, everything with my brother—she takes it all on and doesn't stop. Doesn't rest. Doesn't ask for help." I shook my head. "She thinks she has to carry everything alone. That needing support is some kind of weakness."
Todd's face shifted. Understanding.
"And you want to give her a framework," he said. "Something that forces her to slow down."
"Something that gives her permission to. She won't do it for herself. But if it's a rule—if it's something I require of her—then it's not weakness. It's obedience."
He clicked his tongue appreciatively. "You're sneaky, Holt. Always have been."
"I prefer strategic."
He snorted. "Yeah, yeah. So what are you thinking? Specifically?"
"Check-ins," I started, a list forming in my mind.
"Something structured. A requirement that she tells me how she's actually doing—not the corporate bullshit she feeds everyone else.
The truth." I paused. "And rest. Mandatory downtime.
Even if it's just an hour a day where she's not allowed to work, not allowed to think about Falkirk or Elion or any of it. "
"Forced relaxation." Todd nodded. "Viv fought me on that one too. Said she didn't need it. That she was fine." He raised an eyebrow. "She was not fine."
"Emma's not fine either. She's running on fumes and pretending she isn't. And every time I'd try to address it, she deflects. Changes the subject. Tells me she's handling it. But now…"
"Now you stop asking and start telling."
"Yeah—" Across the room Emma leaned into Vivian's words, absorbing everything. A woman starving for understanding. "I guess it is time."
A laugh surfaced unbidden, a memory buried under weeks of despair.
Todd angled his head.
"I tried laying down the law a week or so before the accident, you know what she said?" I forced the words around a laugh. "Fuck your orders."
Todd threw his head back and laughed loudly, drawing Emma and Vivian's attention. Both shooting us quizzical looks.
He wiped a tear from his eye. "Really?"
"Yup," I said, laughing along with him.
"She really is a fiery one, isn't she?"
"Yes," I said, her beautiful hazel eyes catching mine. "She is."