Damian’s POV

The smell of cheap perfume lingered in the air when I rolled off the bed. She was still sprawled out on my sheets, hair messy, face painted with satisfaction. I didn’t even look at her twice. I grabbed my slacks from the chair, pulled them on, and reached for my wallet.

“Here,” I muttered, tossing a stack of cash onto the bed.

Her eyes widened at the amount, but I didn’t care enough to watch her reaction. Money was easier than words.

“W..wait,” she said, clutching the sheet to her chest. “That’s… a lot. Don’t you even want my number?”

“No.” I buttoned my shirt. “I don’t do repeats.”

Her smile faltered, hurt flickering in her eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“Cold, heartless and arrogant,” she shot back.

“Accurate.” I slid on my watch and glanced at her one last time. “Clara!”

My maid appeared instantly, like she always did. Ever loyal to .s.

“Escort her out when she’s done,” I said flatly.

“Yes, sir,” Clara replied with a small nod.

The woman on my bed gasped. “Escort me out? What am I, luggage?”

I didn’t answer. I was already walking toward the door.

The private elevator hummed as it carried me down to the garage. My reflection in the steel doors looked cold, untouchable. That was the point.

Mark, my driver, held the back door open when I reached the car.

“Office?” he asked as I slid inside.

“Yes.”

The car glided into traffic, city noise rushing past. I loosened my tie, leaning back, when my phone rang. The name flashing across the screen made my jaw tighten.

Father.

I pressed accept. “Yes….”

“You bastard!” His roar was so loud I had to pull the phone slightly away from my ear.

“Good morning to you too,” I drawled, though my grip on the phone tightened.

“Don’t you dare mock me!” he barked. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

My teeth ground together. “What are you talking about now?”

“Check the damn news,” he spat. “I warned you, Damian. I am done covering your filth. If you don’t have a wife by tomorrow, consider Wolfe Industries gone. I will strip it from you, piece by piece, until you have nothing.”

And then the line went dead.

I stared at the phone, my pulse steady but my chest burning. He’d threatened me a thousand times before, but this time his voice carried finality.

“Sir?” Mark asked carefully.

“Give me the tablet.”

He handed it over, and the headlines exploded across the screen.

Billionaire CEO Damian Wolfe At It Again…The Definition of a Playboy.

My jaw clenched as I swiped through the photos, me with the woman from last night, paparazzi swarming the hotel entrance, her lipstick still smeared across my cheek.

“Damn vultures,” I muttered.

Mark glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “Sir… if I may… this time it looks worse than usual.”

“Don’t.” My voice cut like ice. “Just drive.”

I hit Nathan’s number. He answered on the first ring, laughter spilling out.

“Boss, you’re trending again. The internet loves you…”

“Shut the hell up,” I snapped, the force of my voice filling the car. “I don’t pay you to laugh. I pay you to fix things.”

“Relax,” Nathan drawled, clearly enjoying himself. “I’m already on it. And hey, you told me to dig for her, remember? I found her.”

I leaned forward. “Who?”

“Camila.” His tone shifted, sly and knowing. “Your little girl from the past.”

My chest tightened. “Where?”

“I sent the address and boss… you’ll want to see this for yourself.”

Click. The line went dead.

I shoved the phone into Mark’s hand. “Drive there. Now.”

When we pulled up to the address, chaos spilled onto the street.

Boxes, chairs, even clothes were strewn across the sidewalk. Movers shouted over one another, tossing her life into the back of a truck like it was trash.

My blood ran hot.

“What the hell is going on?” I muttered.

I was out of the car before Mark even stopped. People scattered when they saw me coming, my presence had that effect. My eyes locked on the landlord, a fat man sweating through his shirt, barking orders like he enjoyed it.

“She’s behind on rent,” he stammered before I even spoke, his voice suddenly defensive under my glare.

I pulled out my black card and shoved it hard against his chest. “Settle everything. Now and triple her deposit.”

His jaw dropped. “Sir, that’s not nec…”

“I wasn’t asking.”

He swallowed, nodding like his head was on a spring. “Y…yes. Right away.”

Pathetic.

I didn’t spare him another glance as I pushed inside the building.

And then I saw her. Camila.

She was crouched on the floor, stuffing belongings into a worn bag. Her long dark hair spilled over her face, but when she looked up…

The disgust in her eyes hit harder than my father’s threats.

“You,” she hissed.

The single word burned.

I smirked to cover it. “Miss me?”

Her eyes rolled. “I’d rather drown.”

Her voice dripped venom, and for reasons I didn’t want to examine, I almost smiled.

“Charming as ever,” I said.

She stood slowly, brushing dust off her jeans, crossing her arms over her chest. “What do you want, Damian?”

I stepped closer, deliberately slow. “Want? Nothing.” My eyes traced the curves she tried to hide. Fuller. Softer. Better than I remembered.

She caught me staring. “My eyes are up here.”

Busted but I didn’t even flinch. Instead, the words slipped out before I could stop them.

“Marry me.”