Seraphina Quinn could no longer remember what happened after Rhona Langley led her out of the private room and into the elevator.
Her tears of despair streamed down her face, and her sobs made the snow-white skin of her chest heave in an alluring curve.
She was an absolutely sensuous sight.
Damian Fairchild had to admit that even now, he was powerless against her beauty.
He found the key to the handcuffs, freed Seraphina Quinn’s hands, and then seized her by the waist, hoisting her up.
“Look at you.
Selling yourself over and over, only to end up sold into my bed.
What was the point?”
As Damian Fairchild carried her off the bed, he didn’t separate from Seraphina Quinn for even a second.
The more Seraphina struggled, the rougher he became.
Unable to bear it, she could only cling to his neck, burying her head against his throat and sobbing quietly.
“You bastard…”
Damian Fairchild finally found an unopened bottle of mineral water on the coffee table.
Supporting Seraphina Quinn’s rear and waist with one arm so she wouldn’t fall, he freed his other hand to grab the water, bit the cap off with his teeth, and after chugging half the bottle, he pressed her against the floor-to-ceiling window.
Outside, the entire city glittered, a brilliant nightscape.
The neon lights on the opposite bank of the river flickered relentlessly.
But with nowhere to retreat, she was forced by the man into the most shameful position, left to his mercy.
Finally, just when she thought it was all over, the man suddenly carried her out to the balcony.
The shameless, vile man held her for a moment before pushing her away from his embrace and forcing her to sit on the balcony railing.
At that moment, if someone in the building across the way were looking over with a pair of binoculars, they would surely see a sensuous and incredibly thrilling scene.
She was completely naked, her upper body hanging half-suspended over the balcony’s edge.
If the man were to let go of her hands and waist right then, she would plummet to her death, smashed to a pulp.
The night wind howled in her ears.
The terror of weightlessness and falling overwhelmed the shame of her nudity, and Seraphina Quinn screamed in utter despair:
“Damian Fairchild, you’re a madman!
Let me down!
Let me down…
I don’t want to die…
WAHHH…”
But not only did Damian Fairchild not let her down, he pulled one hand back, leaving him holding her by just one arm.
Seraphina’s fear intensified!
She was too terrified to even scream, tears streaming down her face.
Her eyes, filled with grief, indignation, and despair, were fixed on Damian Fairchild’s unchanging, cold expression.
“Why?
Why are you torturing me like this…?”
Finally, Damian Fairchild spoke.
“I ask, you answer.”
Seraphina’s survival instinct kicked into overdrive.
She nodded frantically.
Just ask…”
Seeing her on the verge of collapse, Damian Fairchild said mockingly,
“So you can feel fear after all?
I’ll ask the questions, and you’ll give me the answers.
If you hesitate for even a second, or if I find out you’re lying, I’m throwing you off.”
The last part of his sentence was spoken with such viciousness that it sounded less like a threat and more like a promise.
Seraphina was terrified, sobbing uncontrollably.
“Damian Fairchild, please pull…
pull me up!
I’m scared…
I don’t want to die…”
“Your aunt came to see me again this afternoon, shamelessly I might add.
She said that every year, on the anniversary of my death, you go to my grave to cry.
She said you’re still in love with me…”
“You said you bought me a gravesite for your own peace of mind, not because you had feelings for me.
So why cry?”
Seraphina’s mind raced as she carefully chose her words.
“Because…
I regret it, and I blame myself.
That’s why I cry.”
‘He must want to hear that I regret dumping him,’ Seraphina guessed.
So she figured this answer would appease Damian Fairchild.
“I regret breaking up with you.
I regret…
how I treated you back then.
I always blame myself.
If I hadn’t been so heartless, so absolute, you definitely wouldn’t have left that very day to get on that plane to Continent M…”
“So, even after setting up a headstone and an empty grave for you, my conscience could never be at peace.
That’s why I’d cry!”
Damian Fairchild freed a hand, took out a cigarette, and stuck it between his lips, lighting it.
In the fading light of night, his handsome face was obscured by a cloud of blue smoke, revealing a ruthless and cruel streak.
His voice was unhurried, brimming with patience.
“Second question.
Your aunt said you haven’t been with any man all these years, that you’ve been saving yourself for your dead-and-gone ex-husband.
Is that true?”
From beginning to end, Damian Fairchild was indeed the only man Seraphina had ever been with.
Over the years, it wasn’t that she didn’t want to find someone else, but with the sudden misfortune that befell the Quinn Family, she simply wasn’t in the right mind for it.
But she couldn’t tell him that.
“I…
From beginning to end, you’re the only man I’ve ever been with.”
Damian Fairchild was skeptical.
“Is that so?
But Miss Quinn, for someone who supposedly lacks a man, you’re awfully wild in bed.”
Seraphina fell apart.
Her tears and eyelashes were a tangled mess, smudging her eyeliner and mascara.
She cried like a beautiful, tragic ghost.
you’re the one who trained me?”
“You trained me too well before.
I can’t resist your touch!”
Those two sentences successfully placated Damian Fairchild.
He stubbed out his cigarette but still didn’t pull the acrophobic Seraphina down.
He leaned in close, his gaze meeting her tear-filled, almond-shaped eyes.
“Last question.”
Seraphina blinked her wet lashes.
“Go ahead.”
Damian stared into her eyes.
“The day we first met again, you cried and told me you missed me.
Was that a genuine outpouring of emotion, or were you just saying it because you were afraid I’d get revenge?”
Without a moment’s thought, Seraphina blurted out:
“It was genuine.
Back then, I didn’t know you were married with a child, that’s why I said it.” She paused, her voice catching with a sob.
“But…
you don’t belong to me anymore.
I can’t allow myself to have those fantasies!”
Damian Fairchild raised his hand.
The pad of his thumb brushed over her reddened eyelid before his fingers threaded through her thick, long hair to cup the back of her head.
He pressed his palm against the back of her head, pulling her face into his chest.
Seraphina heard his strong heartbeat, the sound of the city wind howling, and…
a short sigh from the man.
“Don’t wear makeup next time.”
“You look like a tragic ghoul when you cry.
It’s ugly as hell.”
In the end, Damian Fairchild carried Seraphina Quinn back into the room from the balcony.
He found a nightgown and helped her put it on, then used a wet wipe to clean her eyes.
“Are you staying here for the night, or should I send you back to that rundown slum?”
Seraphina had been terrified before, and the lingering fear still had her trembling violently.
She hugged her legs, curled up on the sofa.
“What time…
is it now?”
Damian Fairchild: “It’s not early.
Two in the morning.
I should be heading home.”
His words, “I should be heading home,” shattered the fantasy Seraphina had just begun to entertain about him.
A sour feeling welled up in her heart.
She lowered her head and said, “I’ll stay here for the night.
Drive safely on your way back.”
Damian Fairchild stood up and pulled his suit jacket out from under Seraphina Quinn’s rear.
He draped the jacket over his arm and looked at Seraphina, who was still curled up on the sofa with her head down.
“Want me to stay?
Just say the word.
I can stay.”