Chapter 6: Breaking Point

Elara's POV

The car ride back was suffocating silence. Damian sat rigid beside me, his jaw clenched so tight I heard his teeth grind.

 Marcus drove, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror with concern I didn't understand.

The elevator ride to the penthouse felt endless.

 The moment the doors closed behind us, Damian exploded.

"Strip."

I blinked. "What?"

"Your clothes. Remove them. Now." His eyes were wild, dangerous.

 "I need to make sure you're not wearing a wire. That this whole thing wasn't a setup."

"You're being paranoid."

He grabbed the front of my dress and yanked it. The expensive fabric tore, buttons scattering across marble. I gasped, stumbling back, but he followed, ripping away the ruined silk until I stood in nothing but my underwear and heels.

"Damian, stop!"

He circled me like a predator, checking for hidden devices. His hands were rough, impersonal, nothing like the heated touches from earlier. When he found nothing, he stepped back, chest heaving.

"Satisfied?" I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling humiliated and furious. "Or should I turn around so you can strip-search me completely?"

Something cracked in his expression. "Christ." He ran his hands through his hair, destroying its perfect style. "What are you doing to me?"

"I'm not doing anything. You're the one who."

"You make me insane." He closed the distance between us, his hands cupping my face with surprising gentleness. "I can't think straight. Can't focus. 

Every thought circles back to you."

His thumb traced my cheekbone, and despite everything, I leaned into the touch. "Then let me go."

"I can't." His voice broke. "God help me, I can't."

He kissed me then, and it was nothing like before. 

This was raw desperation, lips and teeth and tongue claiming me with a hunger that stole my breath. I kissed him back with equal ferocity, my nails raking down his chest, popping buttons on his tuxedo shirt.

He lifted me, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carried me to the bedroom. We fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and need. His mouth moved to my neck, sucking hard enough to mark.

"Mine," he growled against my skin. "Say it."

"Yours," I breathed, hating that I meant it.

His hand slid between my thighs, and I arched into his touch. He groaned at what he found there, his fingers circling where I needed him most.

"So wet for me. Even when you hate me, your body knows who it belongs to."

I couldn't argue. Couldn't think past the building pressure as his fingers worked magic. When he pulled my underwear aside and thrust two fingers inside, I cried out.

"Look at me," he commanded. "I want to see your face when you come apart."

I met his eyes, those frozen depths now burning with something that looked almost like anguish. 

He worked me with devastating precision, his thumb circling as his fingers curved, hitting that spot that made stars explode behind my eyes.

"Damian, I, oh god"

“Not yet”

He pulled down his pants, I gasped in fright, he was so big and it left me wondering if I could take it all in.

He thrusted slowly and I let out a shrill cry.

“It hurts I whimpered”

Slowly the pain turned into pain mixed with pleasure as I moaned his name.

"That's it. Let go for me."

The orgasm ripped through me, and I shattered in his arms, his name a prayer on my lips, he came not long after.

 He held me through it, his free hand stroking my hair with unexpected tenderness.

When I came back to myself, he was watching me with an expression I couldn't decipher. Hunger, yes. Possession, absolutely. But something else too. 

Something that looked dangerously like wonder.

He wrapped his arms around me, too compassionate for this so-called passion.

—-

Days later

I got used to Damien, my new cage called a home.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. We both froze,ruining our intimate moment.

Damian grabbed it before I could react. His face went pale as he read the screen.

"What does this mean?" He turned it toward me.

‘She's planning something tonight. Check Victoria's office. The contract wasn't what you think. Your father knew.’

"I don't know," I whispered. "I swear, I don't know who's sending these."

He stared at the message, something shifting behind his eyes. Fear? No, Damian Voss didn't fear. But close to it.

"My father's been dead for three years."

"Then what contract?"

He was already moving, pulling on his shirt, his earlier passion forgotten. "Stay here. Lock the door. Don't open it for anyone but me."

"Damian, wait."

But he was gone, the door slamming behind him.

I sat on the bed, still shaking from my release, my mind racing. 

Someone was feeding me information. Someone who knew about Victoria, about Damian's father, about contracts and secrets buried deep.

Someone who wanted me to know the truth.

I looked at Detective Chen's card, still clutched in my hand. The number seemed to glow in the dim light.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I dialed.

She answered on the first ring. "Elara. Thank God."

"Tell me everything," I said. "Tell me what I'm really caught in the middle of."

"Your father didn't have gambling debts. He had evidence. Evidence that could destroy the Voss empire. 

Victoria paid someone to create the debt story, to force you into Damian's life as a distraction while she."

The line went dead.

Not disconnected. Dead. Like someone had cut it.

I heard footsteps in the hallway. Not Damian's confident stride. Someone else. Someone trying to be quiet.

The door handle turned slowly.

I'd forgotten to lock it.