Page 20 of Fragile Twisted Vows

I’m laying on a beach, feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin and the low, crashing waves wash over me when suddenly, something hard hits me in the face.

“What the hell-” I try to say as I’m jolted back into reality, the pillow that was just thrown at me now falling to the floor.

“Get up. Bruno’s waiting in the car outside,” Damien hisses as he stands above me in a fresh, dark blue suit.

Well, not a full-blown suit. He’s wearing a crisp, tucked in white collared shirt that’s once again unbuttoned at the top, showcasing the gold chain. He’s not wearing a blazer this time. In fact, that form fitting white shirt has the sleeves rolled up and my eyes can’t help but travel to the dark, tanned and muscled skin of his forearms before they glance at the dark blue, suit pants that are belted at his waist. His hair is slicked back once again and his beard looks both groomed and trimmed.

Once again, if he wasn’t such a monster, he’d be really beautiful.

And I hate that.

“Have you always been this big of an asshole?” I groan as I turn my head into my arm, my feet dangling off the bed still from when I passed out late last night.

I can hear him sneer at me.

“Have you always been this big of a brat?” he growls and for some reason, I want to smile, but I don’t.

Because he’s not only the enemy, he’s the goddamn devil.

And now, I am his little puppet that he gets to manipulate.

“Be outside and in the car in five minutes. No later,” he commands as he walks to the door.

“Are you coming with us?” I ask as I rub the sleep away from my eyes.

“No. I’ve got a meeting with my attorney,” he says in a clipped tone.

Thank God.

“Get up. Now,” he growls as he rips open the door and slams it behind him.

“Does he ever open the door like a normal person?” I huff as I haul myself out of bed.

I don’t have time to really shower, or marvel at the gorgeous penthouse bathroom. I rush inside of the glass, double-doored stall and rinse my body with the bar of soap that I fished from my duffle bag. I brush my teeth quickly at the floating sink and toss my hair in a messy bun before I throw on my baggy jeans and big, black Jack Daniels tee shirt. I slip my worn, dirty Converse on and rush out the door and towards the living area of the suite.

Damien is standing at the kitchen isle, drinking a cup of coffee as he leans against the counter. He eyes me as I reach the door, disgust etched all over his groomed, tan face.

“You told me to hurry!” I huff and he scoffs at me as he shakes his head.

“That door leads to the boardroom I had built. Use the elevator.” He points to the steel, elevator doors near the glass staircase on the opposite side of the room.

I can’t help but wonder where those stairs lead to-

“Go,” he barks, and I raise my hands in angsty surrender as I rush to the elevator and push the button.

When I step in and press the lobby button, I turn to look at him.

“Don’t even think about running either. I own this entire building and everyone works for me,” he growls out from across the living space before the elevator doors close in his face.

Ah, silence.

Blissful, peaceful, silen-

The elevator doors open instantly and the lobby comes into view.

I swear, time flies when you don’t have much of it to spare.

I walk out onto the shiny lobby floors and make my way through the crowds of busy New Yorkers.

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