Page 12 of Fragile Twisted Vows
He catches me before I reach the handle. He hauls me back and slams me against the marble counter adjacent to the doorway. The edge digs into my spine and I yelp before he clamps his hand down over my mouth.
He looks into my eyes, his pupils so largely dilated that they almost look black. No trace of that beautiful hazel in sight.
“You’re lucky I don’t slap you for that,” he growls as his face inches closer to mine.
My eyes widen as his hand clamps down harder. There is nothing in my view but him. Right now, my entire world consists of Damien Reed and I hate every moment of it.
“You’ve spent your whole life playing the role of the victim that not once have you realized that you’re no better than them. You’re just as spoiled. Always whining and crying because how could anything possibly happen to a Fairchild?” He growls and the tears I tried to keep at bay spring forward now.
Because that is the furthest thing from the truth.
This man doesn’t know me. Doesn’t know the abuse or struggle I’ve survived through. All on my own.
But that’s not what hurts.
What hurts is that he said that, all the while remembering the night he saved me from the most sadistic attack I’ve ever endured, putting my father’s drunken fist to shame.
He saw me on the ground of that alley. He watched the man zip his pants and kick me to make sure I was still breathing. And then he practically beat him to death.
How could he say those things after that night?
He watches the tears fall from my eyes and wet the skin of his rough fingers that press down over my mouth. He doesn’t soften from them. He doesn’t apologize or realize the true effect of his words. In fact, I don’t think he’s even capable of understanding the gravity of them. Because right now, I don’t think he’s staring at Lucy Fairchild.
I feel like he’s looking at my sister.
He thinks I’mhereven though I’m nothing like her.
“You’re nothing special, Lucille,” he spits.
“You had everything handed to you. Everything I have, this empire I’ve built, has come from blood, sweat and tears. Not a spec of it came from your father. Not a dime,” he seethes, and there’s so much anger in his eyes, so much malice and hatred that it staggers me.
I always suspected Damien was involved with… much darker things. I mean, my father’s a politician, he thrives off dirty work. This isn’t news to me.
What Damien is involved in is much heavier, much more sinister. I can see it in his eyes and around this expensive penthouse suite. This must be what Megan saw, what my father was suspicious of.
And as evil and conniving as my family is, I have this intense feeling that Damien Reed is much, much worse.
He stares at me long and hard, his eyes traveling from mine to my tear-stained cheeks. He sneers then and rips his hand free from my mouth. I gasp like a fish out of water when he does.
He pulls away, dusting off the sleeves of his jacket and straightening his lapels.
I can’t help but wonder who this man is. I knew he was an asshole, but when did he morph into a rich asshole wearing a designer suit?
Megan must have really left an impression on him.
“Now,” he starts as he runs a hand through his slicked back, dark hair.
“Instead of throwing a temper tantrum, why don’t you let me explain why you’re here,” he says as he walks from me to the chaise opposite from the one I woke up on.
I rub at my mouth, desperate to wipe any bit of him off me. But it’s no use. His words have branded my soul and the damage cannot be undone. What I can do is wipe the tears.
I don’t know why I let myself cry in front of him. To be quite honest, I’ve never cried in front of anyone except for my best friend. Not in front of my father when he would punish me. Not in front of my mother when she would berate me. Not in front of my sister when she would belittle me. I didn’t even sob in front of my attacker, even though I wanted to. And I definitely didn’t cry in front of the doctor when I was going through an active miscarriage.
Truth be told, I think I’ve been so numb throughout my life that my body has reserved my tears for when I’m alone. But tonight…my body has betrayed me. Damien has somehow cracked through the brick wall of numbness I usually have up and some of that fear and sorrow leaked out, right onto his hand.
He doesn’t seem to care about it though. He watches me through narrowed eyes, annoyance evident in his gaze. He crosses one long leg over his knee and leans back on the chaise, arms stretched across the velvet back of the lounge chair.
If he wasn’t such a monstrous piece of shit, he might actually look beautiful right now.
