SILK SHEETS AND SILENCE
(A Casual Thing)
Shadow_vee
In a penthouse at one of the city's most exclusive estates, Damien Kuiver stood with his front to the floor-to-ceiling windows gazing at the skyline stretched endlessly before him glass towers glittering under the morning sun, tiny people moving below like pieces on a board.
He was the CEO of the Kuiver Group, a man used to controlling everything around him.
With a sculptured face,broad shoulders and chiseled abs,he was putting on just suit pants,dark hair that caught the light just enough to show a hint of careless elegance. A cigar rested between his fingers, the smoke curling lazily upward.
Around him, subtle signs of last night's indulgence were scattered: a suit jacket and white long sleeves tossed carelessly on a chair, a silk gown draped over the edge of the couch, the faint scent of perfume lingering in the air. The night had been his playground, a game of dominance and charm but it wasn't about the act. It was about control, allure, and the intoxicating thrill of someone giving in willingly to him.
On the bed behind him, a woman stirred, her long legs folding beneath the duvet as she sat up, blinking against the soft morning light.
Laila, a must-have model in the fashion industry,she had a reputation for being unapproachable most admirers had given up long before last night. Yet here she was, quietly captivated, the air between them thick.
Damien didn't turn. He inhaled the cigar's smoke, letting it anchor him, thinking back to the fleeting moments of last night their laughter, the touch, the subtle power struggle that left them both breathless he smirked. Everything had been a game of give and take, and he had won, not by force, but by anticipation, presence, and undeniable chemistry.
He exhaled slowly. This wasn't about indulgence it was about the thrill of control, the art of drawing someone into his orbit, and the dangerous allure of a life where rules were made to be bent.
"You're up." His voice was low but firm.
"Yes…" she whispered back, surprising even herself. She wasn't exactly the quiet, naive type so why was she sounding shy she thought to herself.
"Last night had been"… before she could finish, he interrupted again.
"I've notified the driver. He'll be here shortly to pick you up."
She froze, momentarily shocked.
He didn't glance at her again her pulse quickened not from desire, but from irritation and anger she got up from the bed, still moving stiffly from activities of the previous night and went to the bathroom to clean up. When she returned, she dressed silently, her mind spinning she was filled with regrets.
He didn't even look at me twice. She felt wronged, angry. Her friends had warned her about his reputation, but she had thought… she could handle him. She wasn't a gold digger, she wasn't that type so he would see her differently.
"He's here." His words broke through her thoughts.
Laila picked up her bag and paused at the door. She turned toward him, eyes blazing enough to pierce his back.
"I am not someone you can use and discard." Her voice trembled with controlled anger. "Do not mistake me for that."
For the first time since last night, he looked her over slowly, deliberately. His gaze lingered a heartbeat too long, resting briefly on her posture and stance then, with a faint smirk, he said:
"Already did."
The words cut. Sharp, unapologetic.
She stared daggers at him muttering a Spanish curse under her breath Zorra!(insult meaning bitch) before storming out, leaving the door wide open.
His expression returned to calm, but his eyes were thoughtful.
She's a tiger, he mused quietly, turning back to stare at the skyline.
Laila slid into the back seat of the car an expensive one, the kind that usually turned heads and stirred envy. Under normal circumstances, she would have admired it, maybe even taken quiet pride in being associated with that level of influence.
But today, the car meant nothing.
She was furious and worse she felt used.
How did I stoop so low?
They had been seen together. Cameras never missed moments like that the internet would spin its own version of events, and history wasn't kind to women linked to men like him. Every woman seen beside Damien Kuiver was assumed to be temporary, disposable.
She had allowed herself to be seen because she thought it would last because she believed foolishly that this time might be different.
What angered her most was how he remained untouched by it all. Somehow, his morally loose side never stuck. The rumors slid off him effortlessly, while the women bore the weight of judgment.
"I need damage control"she thought to herself.
She pulled out her phone and called her PA.
"Release something in the next few days," she said calmly, though her chest burned. "Make it clear it was platonic mention the date nothing more."
She ended the call and leaned back against the seat, staring out the window.
This wasn't over.