DAMIEN

 

 

“What the actual fuck?” Amira frustratingly gritted through a clenched jaw. Grabbing the other Glock out of the man’s holster who was shielding her. She didn’t pay him any mind, stepping out in front of him and aiming it toward my head.

“Hey, baby,” I greeted, cocking my head to the side. I was sitting on the couch, facing them with my elbows resting on my knees, hunched over. “Did you miss me, Muñeca?”

She didn’t hesitate, pulling the trigger. Grazing my left arm. “That answer your question? The next one will go through your head. Now get the fuck out!”

I glanced at my bicep and then back at her, unfazed by her impulsive outburst. If last night proved anything, it was how much she wanted to fucking hate me.

“If you wanted me dead, you would’ve killed me. Instead, you just ruined my expensive suit jacket. I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me.”

“I did. Last ni—”

“Was that before or after we fucked? Because I don’t remember much talking,” I interrupted, locking eyes with the man who was still standing next to her.

Waiting for him to make his next move.

By the time I’d gotten to my hotel room, it was past one o’clock in the morning. I didn’t sleep at all, still riding the high from seeing her again. I spent several hours sitting on the lounge chair out on the balcony, overlooking the lake. Needing to feel as close to her in any possible way. Watching the freighters roll by and the sunrise dawning a new day. I hadn’t spent much time on the water since I left her in Cuba. Not only was it the only place I ever felt our connection, it also brought back too many memories I spent years trying to forget. Except, now…

I wanted all those memories.

My eyes followed the movement of his hand when he lowered his gun, holstering it at his side. Then he reached for Amira’s weapon, who reluctantly let it go, and holstered it on the other side of his torso.

“So you’re Damien,” he announced, eyeing me up and down as if he already knew who I was.

“Her one and only.”

Amira scoffed out, “How the fuck did you get in here? How did you even find me?”

“I have my ways.”

She stepped toward me. “Dami—”

It wasn’t until his fingers gripped onto her hip, turning her around to face him that I wanted to pull out my gun and put a bullet in between his eyes. The way I overheard them speak to one another in the hall already had me seeing fucking red.

Their mannerisms.

Their closeness.

The way he was looking at her.

Had me searing to the point of pain.

Filling me with fucking rage, but I kept my emotions in check. Using the opportunity to take a good look at him. It was obvious he was much older than her. Amira was thirty-two to my forty-one years of age.

He must have been in his late forties if I had to guess, showing signs of his age. None of that mattered though. Women loved men like him, and by the looks of it, he definitely knew how to pull in pussy of all ages. Including Amira’s. His tailored suit emphasized his broad shoulders and muscular physique, making it clear he hit the gym hard. His bulky stature towered over her petite frame, which had me questioning my resolve to fuck him up.

I watched with stone cold eyes as she nodded. His fingers never left her hip, using them in a comforting, yet possessive, gesture as he continued to softly speak to her. I felt emotions I couldn’t even begin to describe. Burying them deep within me, silently hoping I would eventually unleash them on his fucking face. When he tightened his grip one last time, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, I was fully fucking aware he knew I was watching his every move.

This motherfucker was baiting me.

“Muñeca—”

She quickly spun, glaring at me. “Stop calling me that!”

“I’ll be close,” the man announced, making sure I heard him.

She nodded at him and he squeezed her waist one last time before he turned and left, shutting the door behind him.

“You’ve fucked him, haven’t you?” I cocked my head at her, daring her to reply with a lie.

“Would you leave if I said no?”

“Fuck no, you’d be lying. What is he to you?”

“His name is Roman.”

“I didn’t ask for his name.”

She eyed me skeptically, contemplating what she was going to say. “He’s my righthand man. He goes where I go.”

“How convenient. Does he get to make you come too?”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “What do you want, Damien? Are you here to insult me? Your jabs mean nothing. I don’t owe you an explanation, I don’t owe you shit. I finished what we started last night.”

“The only thing that happened last night was me taking what belongs to me. You.”

Her eyes widened, licking her lips as I searched her face, looking for answers I would never find.  

I couldn’t believe how much she’d changed after twelve years. Her face, her body, her personality—it was as if I was looking at a different woman. One I didn’t know anymore.

Days…

Weeks…

Years…

It had all changed Amira, but it had also changed me in a way I couldn’t fucking fathom. The way she looked at me with such hate, physically pained me. Never thinking I’d be at the receiving end of her murderous glare. As if I was just another fucking monster from one of her nightmares. I spent all morning and half the afternoon trying to figure out how I could convince her to let me in again. I was at a loss, which had always been a common occurrence when it came to her. For the first time since we met, I didn’t know where to go from here. The only thing left for me to do was follow my heart.

Which was such a foreign concept for me. I spent years avoiding the inevitable and doing exactly that. Pushing aside my desire and longing to have her in the only way I yearned, until this very day. My mind constantly won the battle over my heart, but now there were no obstacles in between us.

No Salazar.

No Cuba.

Nothing but the past stood in my way.

“I’m not yours, Damien. I’ve never been yours. You think of me as this possession you own, you always have. I’m like one of the dolls you spent a small fortune buying me, for what? To clear your conscience of my family being murdered in front of me, or is it because of my sister who you were forced to rape in front of everyone?”

I grimaced, I couldn’t help it. We’d never spoken about her sister, and she was deliberately trying to hurt me. The worst part was she succeeded.

“Oh, come on…” she coaxed, taunting me. Satisfied with the pain she was intentionally inflicting.

Her destruction.

Of me. 

“You said you wanted to talk, so let’s fucking talk. I’m not a little girl anymore, you can’t appease me with dolls, clothes, and bullshit lies of this and that. I know who you are, Damien... because I am you. They didn’t just turn you into a monster that night, they turned me into one too.”

I didn’t falter, if I did…

I would lose.

Her.

“You are nothing like me! Do you understand? I didn’t spend the better part of my life making sure of it for nothing! Everyone has demons, Amira. This is yours talking.”

Her body took on a whole new demeanor. She was calloused and cold standing in front of me now. “Truth hurts, don’t it, baby? How about I tell you how many people I’ve killed. How many souls I’ve collected. How many families I’ve destroyed. I’m no better than Emilio Salazar or you. Fuck, I’m probably far worse.”

The way she just stood there consumed me in ways I never thought possible. Her presence was comforting and afflicting all at once. There was a malicious, yet captivating look in her eyes. A wall so fucking thick I’d spend the rest of my life trying to break it down. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from hers, and I didn’t want to.

I could watch this woman all day, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

Because the truth was…

I’d take her any goddamn way I could.

“Are you trying to get a rise out of me?”

“Why? Is it working?”

“Let’s cut the bullshit, Amira. You want me gone? Then answer my fucking questions.”

“And here I thought I was.” She smirked, leaning against the large mahogany desk in front of the bay window.

“How did you get to the States?”

She took an irritated breath, stating, “On a boat.”

I jerked back, stunned by her response. “How? You didn’t have that kind of money. I would know, remember? I spent sixteen grand trying to get you here.”

“Well, I didn’t pay 16K.” She smiled, arching an eyebrow.

“Then how the fuck—”

“My pussy, Damien. That’s how I got to the States.”

“Un-fucking-believable,” I scoffed, blown away.

My mind was spiraling with more thoughts and questions, trying to find some clarity. Some truth within the haze. I shut my eyes and bowed my head in between my hands. Needing a minute to process what the hell she’d just said. The pain was evident all around me, radiating deep into my core.

She could see it.

She could feel it.

She could feel me.

“I should probably thank you, Damien. I used my pussy the way you did. The son of one of the Cuban smugglers liked me, and I simply gave him what he wanted. Best lay of my entire life, and it got me the fuck out of Cuba,” she added, not letting up on my demise.  

My fists tightened at my temples from the thought of another man’s hands on her. I never wanted to shake her and hold her as much as I did in that moment. Showing my weaknesses was something I never thought I would do, but it had always been different with Amira… and she knew it. I couldn’t think about the future without thinking about the past, and for the first time it had me questioning how we would make it through this.

“How did Roman come into the picture?” I asked, needing to know.

“He is none of your business. I refuse to discuss any part of our relationship, and if you don’t like it, you can fuck right off on your way out the door.”

I stared up at her through the slits of my eyes, longing to feel some sort of connection through what I was about to say to her. “So you do love him, but I can clearly see your feelings for him don’t change the fact that you’re still in love with me too.”

“You’re twelve years too late, Damien. My love for you died the morning you fucked me over.”

“It’s fucking astounding how you think that.”

“It’s fucking astounding that you don’t,” she spoke with conviction, stepping to me till we were a few feet apart. With each step, I could feel her hatred coming toward me. “But that’s always been the problem between us. You fuck up, I forgive you. It’s an endless cycle I finally put a stop to. I don’t need you, and I sure as hell don’t love you. I don’t know what you expect from me because the woman you see standing in front of you… the cold, heartless, callused, powerful woman. Well, motherfucker, you made her this way.”

Each blow she delivered, I felt a little more of myself die inside. The carefree, happy girl was long gone, and all that was left of her was someone I didn’t know anymore. Someone I never wanted her to be in the first place. I didn’t know which one was worse, which one hurt more.

The little girl I saved who turned out to be my worst fucking nightmare. Or the woman I loved who once loved me, and now can’t stand the fucking sight of me.

“I don’t hate you, Damien, I’ll give you that much. Hate would imply I actually give a fuck about you, and I don’t.”

“You’re so full of shit,” I confidently coaxed, hanging on by a thread. “You’ve loved me your entire life. I’m embedded in your skin. I’m flowing in your blood. I’m beating in your heart.” Before she knew it, I was standing directly in front of her, pulling her hair away from her face. Grazing my knuckles against her rosy cheek. “I’m a part of you, baby, and I’m not going anywhere. Mark my words, Amira. It’s only a matter of time until I make you mine again, and no one can stop me. Not even you.” I moved away, even though it was the last thing I wanted to do. Wanting her to miss my touch before my resolve exploded.

“Let’s continue our conversation from last night. You know… before I made you come in my mouth and on my cock,” I smugly reminded, grinning at her. “You said you got here shortly after I did. What about Rosarío? Where is she? Did she come with you?” I asked, changing the subject for my sake and especially hers.

With the way I was feeling right now, I was damn ready to throw her over my shoulder kicking and screaming, putting up a hell of a fight, and lock her the fuck away until I proved my point.

She winced. It was quick, but I saw it. “I don’t want to talk about Mama Rosa. Can you at least respect that?”

“No. Where is she, Amira?”

Her eyes snapped to mine. “Fuck you.” Before I could argue, she pushed off her heels, rushing toward the door.

“Don’t you fucking walk away from me,” I ordered, hauling ass over to her in three long strides. Grabbing ahold of her arm, I turned her attention back to me. Stepping right into her personal space and backing her against the nearest wall. My six-foot-four muscular build looming over her tiny frame, bringing her hard against my chest. She didn’t cower, if anything she stood taller. I cocked my head to the side, sweeping her hair away from her eyes to peer deep into them. Locking her in place in front of me.

“Get your fucking hands off me,” she gritted, trying to jerk her face out of my strong hold. Failing miserably at doing so. Her chest rose and fell with each word that fell off her lips, accentuating her luscious tits in my face.

I held her tighter. 

To look at me.

To talk to me.

To listen to me.

To feel me…

She finally met my eyes, spewing, “You know all it would take is for me to scream. One fucking word from my mouth and I would have every one of my men running in here. Hanging you by the balls with a gun down your fucking throat.”

“You really are fucking adorable when you’re mad.  Besides, we both know I like it when you scream. It makes my cock so fucking hard.” I rotated my grip on the back of her neck in a possessive act, running my thumb up and down her windpipe. I leaned in close to her lips, my mouth almost touching hers. “I can smell him on you.”

Her breathing hitched and her lips parted when my other hand started lightly grazing her inner thigh. “Damien, stop,” she weakly let out as my fingers inched, higher and higher up her thigh.

“Stop what?”

“Stop torturing yourself.”

“You’re torturing me. Tell me why you didn’t reach out to me when you got to the States, and don’t fucking lie to me,” I urged, never letting up on my insistent assault, up and down her inner thigh.

“What do you want me to say? I’ll say whatever you want to make you leave me alone and stay away from me.”

“Tell me the truth. You had me here, goddamn it. I would’ve been there for you, taken care of you like I always had. Like I still fucking ache to do. You would have never gotten involved in this life and become my worst fucking nightmare. Jesus Christ, Muñeca. Please just give me a chance to make it right. I can’t live without you,” I sincerely expressed, skimming my fingers along the crevice of her panties.

“We both know you can make me come, Damien,” she rasped against my lips. “It’s my body’s natural reaction to you. Any man can make me come and they have. Including Roman.”

I swallowed hard, clenching my jaw and grinding my teeth. Never expecting the next words to come out of her pouty mouth.

“I didn’t reach out to you because as far as I was concerned, you died the day Rosarío did.”

I immediately let her go, staggering backward. “What?”

“It’s why I left Cuba, okay? There.” She pointed at me. “I answered all your questions. Now, please… just leave me alone. Pretend like I don’t exist. It’s easy, trust me. I’ve been pretending you don’t for the last twelve years.”

My resolve broke like a chain that had been stretched to the max. I heard it snap, loud and clear, shattering into a million pieces. Blending into my body along with my demons. With wide eyes, I ran my hands through my hair wanting to tear it the fuck out. Trying to remain calm but becoming defeated with each passing second.

“How did she—” I stopped myself. I couldn’t even say the words, let alone contemplate what she just informed me.

Memories of when I was a boy came crashing back, suffocating me to the point of pure and utter agony. She loved me, took care of me, protected me as if I was her own. Not being blood related didn’t change the fact that she was my mother. She was the only one whoever gave a flying fuck if I was cared for, if I’d eaten, or slept. If I was sad, happy, you name it—she was there for me. In every sense of the words. The silence in the room was deafening, triggering the memories to resurface at rapid speeds.

“I love you, Damien. You’re my beautiful boy.”

“You can do anything you set your mind to. You’re so smart.”

“Damien, you have such a good and kind heart. Don’t let anyone change that.”

“Always walk to the beat of your own drum. Know your own rhythm.”

“I’m so proud of you and the man you’ve become.”

“My son, my handsome boy. You’re my heart and soul, Damien. One day you will grow up to be an exceptional man.”  

“I will always be here for you. No matter what.”

“Damien—”

My body lunged itself forward, unleashing the rage, the fury, the craze erupted out of me. Provoking and stirring emotions. I felt every loss of breath, every memory, everything she ever said to me. All of it cluttered my mind, blocking my will to keep going, to push through. I couldn’t keep up with the torment, it clasped onto me like a vice as I stormed around her office, my feet stomping everywhere I stepped, leaving a path of destruction in its wake. Throwing anything and everything I could find. My eyes blurred with nothing but tears. My body twisted with nothing but hate and my desire to fall apart.

“Damien, please stop!”

Hearing the desperation in Amira’s voice halted the chaos inside and all around me. We locked eyes. It was then I noticed she had tears streaming down the sides of her face, and for the first time since we crossed paths, I saw her.

The little girl I saved.

The woman who still loved me.

My beginning and my end.

Neither one of us said a word for I don’t know how long, facing each other, panting profusely. We didn’t need to though. Our eyes spoke for themselves. She let me feel her, truly feel her as if I’d never left her behind. As if we were still back in Cuba where our love and devotion always spoke for itself.

Our connection was present, and she wanted me to see it, giving me the hope I needed to go on.

“Muñeca, I lov—”

Roman barged in like a bat out of hell, bringing both our intense stares over to him. “You alright?” he asked, looking only at her.

I instinctually peered up at the corner of the room, conscious of the camera watching our every move. “If you know anything about me at all, you know what I will do to you if you fucking touch her again,” I vowed, shifting my eyes to him.

“Damien, don’t—”

I crudely yanked her toward me by the nook of her neck, cutting her off from whatever bullshit lie she was about to say. She stumbled on her heels, placing her hands on my chest for balance as I whispered into her ear, “And you know what I will do to him if you let him touch you again. Except, this time, it won’t be just his cock I’ll fucking break,” reminding her of what I did to her last boyfriend.

She slowly pulled away, never removing her deep gaze from mine. I could see it in her eyes, she knew it wasn’t a warning.

“This isn’t over, and that’s far from a fucking threat.” I let her go.

Body-checking Roman at the door, getting the hell out of there. Making sure to nod at the guard who I’d bribed with his brother’s freedom to let me in. Knowing I’d need his help again.

Soon.

Like I told her, this wasn’t over. I wouldn’t go down without a fight. She was mine.

End. Of. Story.