"Can you just stop, Damien?"
Aria's voice trembled with a mix of anger and embarrassment. She raised an eyebrow slightly, but her gaze remained stubbornly fixed on the floor, refusing to meet his. She couldn't bring herself to look at him not when he stood there, completely naked.
"Can you just allow me to leave?" she continued, her voice tightening. "I'm the daughter of your enemy. Just seeing me will always ruin your mood. Since you don't want to kill me… then let me go. Let me leave your life."
I don't want to die either, Damien. I'm… I'm grateful you're not declaring death on me. Her hand subconsciously moved to her stomach. I just need to give birth to my baby peacefully. I need to survive… so I can give him or her a good life.
Her chest tightened painfully as memories flooded in.
He or she will be my only family now. She thought with tears rolling down her cheeks. Even though it hurts… Father and Eve...my stepsister....they're gone. And there's nothing I can do about it.
Tears streamed freely down her cheeks.
You got the revenge for what my father did to you Damien and I'm so sorry those that are innocent were involved. She swallowed hard, her resolve forming through the pain.
There was a brief silence.
Then Damien spoke.
"Didn't you hear me when I said you're mine?" His tone was cold. "You are my personal attendant now. Everything concerning my bedroom… will be handled by you."
Aria froze.
Her fingers curled slightly at her sides, but she didn't move. She kept her eyes on the ground.
"Get over here," Damien added coldly. "Help me get dressed while I explain the rules you'll follow if you're going to live here."
She didn't respond, allowing the silence to stretch.
"Don't make me repeat myself, Aria," he warned, his voice dropping lower, sharper. "You won't like the consequences. And remember… I'm Mafia now. You know exactly what that means especially for someone like you."
It wouldn't be good for Damien to change his mind and kill her instead.
Her heart skipped.
Her body reacted before her mind could catch up. Slowly, hesitantly, she began to walk toward him, each step heavy with reluctance. Even when she stopped in front of him, her gaze remained glued to the floor.
Without another word, Damien picked up a small bottle of oil and extended it toward her.
"Here."
Aria hesitated for only a second before taking it, her fingers brushing his briefly....an action that made her flinch.
"You'll use this," he continued, his voice steady, "to rub every part of my body."
Her breath caught.
He leaned slightly closer.
"And when I say every part… I mean every part. You'll have to learn to be as shameless as I am."
The words hit her hard.
"…Even my 'little brother.'"
The bottle slipped from her hand instantly, shattering against the floor.
Aria quickly bent down, her hands trembling as she reached for the broken shards, tears blurring her vision.
"I'm sorry....I didn't mean...."
Before she could finish, Damien moved.
In one swift motion, he lifted her off the ground and threw her over his shoulder.
"What are you doing?!" Aria cried out, panic rising in her voice. "Put me down!"
He ignored her struggles and carried her to the bed, placing her down firmly. Just as she tried to scramble away, he leaned over her, caging her in with his arms.
His presence was overwhelming.
His bare skin, his warmth, his scent....it all pressed in on her, suffocating.
"What are you trying to do?" she whispered, her voice breaking. "Let me go…"
She turned her face away, unable to meet his eyes.
"You don't need to pick up broken glass and hurt yourself," Damien said, his tone quieter now, though no less intense. His breath brushed against her skin, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. "There are maids for that. Besides how will you attend to me if you cut your fingers with those shards?"
Aria swallowed hard.
"And I think," he continued slowly, "you still don't understand what I meant by 'bedroom services.'"
Her heart pounded violently.
I really… really hope it's not what I'm thinking…
Her thoughts spiraled.
That word could mean anything… Please don't let it mean this. Please don't let it mean becoming some kind of…
Her chest tightened painfully.
Just because we slept together once… or twice… or even more....
Her eyes squeezed shut.
Damn it, Aria…
Guilt crashed over her.
You were the one who kept getting drunk… the one who kept dragging him into it. You used him… then woke up and acted like nothing happened.
Her breathing grew uneven.
You promised yourself you'd stop. You promised you wouldn't take advantage of him again… that you wouldn't treat him like a toy.
A tear slipped down the side of her face.
And yet… you still did.
Her fingers clenched against the sheets.
And now… here I am.
Terrified… that he might do the same to me.
"And what exactly is this 'bedroom service' if it doesn't involve me cleaning up after myself?"
Aria finally raised her head slightly, one brow arching despite the tension in her body. Her voice wavered, but she forced the question out. A lump formed in her throat as she swallowed hard, painfully aware of the situation she was in....of Damien's hard length pressed against her thigh, of the heat between them, of how vulnerable she felt.
"I'm sorry to say this," she continued, her voice tightening with resolve despite the fear creeping into her chest, "but if this 'bedroom service' involves me attending to your sexual desires… then I'll have to decline."
Her fingers clenched slightly against the bedsheet.
"And if you try to force me," she added, her tone trembling but firm, "then that's a crime, Damien."
Instead of replying with words, Damien lifted his hand and flicked two fingers sharply against her forehead.
Click.
"Ouch!" Aria cried out, immediately bringing her hand up to rub the spot, her face contorted in pain. "What was that for?!"
"Your mind is incredibly dirty," Damien scoffed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
He straightened up and stepped away from her, completely unbothered. Reaching for his shorts, he pulled them on to cover himself before slipping into his black trousers. His movements were unhurried, deliberate....almost as if he knew she was watching, even though she tried not to.
Then came the white shirt.
Well-ironed.
As he slid his arms into the sleeves, his muscles flexed naturally, the fabric stretching slightly across his frame. He began buttoning it up slowly, his gaze fixed on Aria the entire time.
"You're not even my type on a normal day," he added casually. "So stop getting your hopes up."
Aria's breath hitched.
What?!