Ariana's POV
My mind was still hazy from that night at the restaurant, my restaurant. Or at least, that's what the papers Damian had handed me claimed. A new identity. A new life. One moment he had looked at me like I was everything, the next… chaos, violence, Carlos's mocking words, and then Damian's hand, unintentionally but painfully, colliding with my face.
And then silence.
He hadn't spoken to me in a week.
One week of Damian disappearing into meetings, vanishing into the shadows of his empire, leaving me with nothing but a throbbing cheek, a bruised heart, and questions I was too scared to ask.
My brain hurt. I didn't know what to think. Or what to feel.
Melinda sat across from me in my room, eyeing me with that mix of pity and suspicion she never bothered to hide. "He hasn't said a word to you since after you got back?"
I rolled my eyes, hating the way my chest ached at the reminder. "Not a word. I haven't even seen him since he dropped me off."
"You do know he cares about you, right? Men like Damian… they don't handle guilt the way normal people do. He probably blames himself for hurting you." She shrugged, casual, as if she hadn't just cracked my chest open.
"Yeah, I know," I muttered, though my voice sounded hollow.
"Good. Now, come. I want to introduce you to the other maids."
I followed her reluctantly to the garden, where a small group of women sat gossiping in the shade. Their chatter died the moment we stepped in. Eyes turned. Smiles faded. I suddenly felt like an intruder trespassing in their territory.
Melinda didn't hesitate. "This is a very special guest of Mr. Carter. She'll be staying in the house—in his wing. Treat her with respect. You all know what happens if you end up on Damian's bad side."
The warning was clear, but their eyes… they told another story. Envy. Resentment. Hate.
Melinda excused herself, leaving me alone with the wolves.
I was about to leave too when a sharp, deliberate throat-clear cut through the air. One of the maids, tall and smug with a sharp smile, stared me down.
"Looks like Damian got himself a new whore," she sneered.
The others burst into laughter. My body went rigid, heat rushing to my cheeks. Slowly, I turned to face her, folding my arms.
"What did you just call me?"
"Exactly what you are," she said with a smirk. "A fat, ugly whore."
The insult slapped harder than Damian's hand had. My jaw clenched. How dare she? Who did she think she was to speak to me like that?
"Some nerve you have," I said quietly, dangerously. "But I don't waste words on trash. I take it out when the bag is full."
Her smirk widened. "You really think you scare me? Bitch, please. Damian is mine. He always comes back to me. You're just a toy. He'll use you, get bored, and when he's done, he'll crawl back to me, because no one fucks him like I do."
The laughter behind her was like knives. My stomach twisted, my pride burned, but I refused to let her see me crumble.
"Bye, Felicia," I snapped, before storming out.
But my steps didn't carry me back to safety, they carried me straight to Damian's study. Rage pushed me forward. Rage and desperation. I needed answers. I needed the truth from him, even if it shattered me.
The moment I barged in, the weight of the room swallowed me whole. He was there, at his desk, papers scattered, his piercing gaze lifting from them to me. The air was thick, heavy, like walking into a storm. I froze.
He didn't speak. Didn't even flinch. Just watched me with that unreadable mask. My chest tightened. My courage cracked. And before I could form words, panic took over and I ran, cowardly, shamefully, back to my room.
I locked the door and collapsed into the bed, my face buried in the pillow as hot tears spilled. Humiliation burned through me. I hated that stupid maid for her words, hated myself for believing them, hated Damian for making me feel this weak.
The banging on my door made me jump.
"Ariana." His voice was hard, commanding.
"Go away!" I choked out between sobs.
The sound of keys rattling made my blood run cold. He had the keys to everything in this house. Of course he did.
The door flew open. Before I could scream, he pulled me into his chest, arms crushing me in a bear hug. His scent, his warmth, it betrayed me, and I relaxed against him like the fool I was.
"Everything's okay," he whispered against my hair. "I promise."
But I had heard enough of his promises.
I shoved against him, glaring through tears. "No, Damian. Nothing is okay. I'm tired, tired of the way you treat me. Do you even see me? One minute you're asking me to be your woman, and the next you disappear like I don't exist. You think I don't know what your maids say about me? They call me names, Damian. They laugh at me because they know what you do with them. And you let them. Do you have any idea how humiliating that is?"
His jaw tightened.
"I know I can't satisfy you yet," I continued, my voice breaking, "but damn it, the least you could give me is respect. If I'm going to be yours, then make it mean something."
Silence. The kind of silence that suffocated.
Then his voice, low and dangerous: "Molly disrespected you, didn't she?"
My heart sank. That name. That smug face.
"Oh, so you don't even deny it?" I snapped, shoving him back. "Everything she said is true then. You disgust me, Damian."
His eyes darkened, but before he could speak, I pushed past him. "Leave me alone."
I stormed out and ran straight to Melinda's room, locking the door behind me. I needed distance. Space. Anything to stop the ache in my chest.
But deep down, a terrifying truth settled inside me: Damian Carter didn't belong to anyone. Not even me.
******
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