ANGEL
Damien stood framed in the doorway, and disappointment struck me square in the chest. I didn’t even bother hiding it. My eyes narrowed at him, taking in his massive frame and the glass of warm milk held in his large hand. Since when was it his job to bring me anything? This was the second time today he’d invaded my space.
"Why is it you? Where is Daddy?" I peered past his shoulder, as if Vincenzo might magically appear in the hall behind him. My dismay instantly morphed into hot, simmering rage when I saw Damien was entirely alone.
"Have you been crying?" he asked, studying me with those sharp, hyper-focused eyes.
"It’s none of your fucking business!" I snapped, my voice sharp and irritated. I loathed the way his gaze unnerved me, like he was peeling my skin back and examining the bone beneath.
I thought I saw his bottom lip twitch. "You actually look better when you cry. It suits you." His eyes blazed with a cold, mocking glint. "It makes your eyes pop. Like a true little Bratz doll."
Did this bastard just say that to me?
My fingers twitched with the sudden, violent urge to gouge his eyes out with a fork. If I got any more pissed off, I was going to explode.
I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. I grabbed the edge of the door to slam it shut in his face, but his low, smooth voice stopped me cold.
"Your Daddy is busy with Jillian. He doesn’t have time to coax a throwing-tantrum child right now." He tilted his head, his tone dripping with taunting stillness. "I think he mentioned they’re trying for a baby tonight."
I froze, staring at him as pure hatred burned in my veins. I’d always hated him for being so quiet, but who knew my loathing would grow ten times deeper the second he opened his mouth?
Wait...
Vincenzo was trying for a baby? With her?
The words spiked something hot, venomous, and filthy inside me. It was too raw to be simple jealousy—I wanted to march down the hallway, kick their bedroom door open, and tear Vincenzo’s cock right out of Mommy’s cunt.
"Get out! And I’m not drinking your fucking milk!" I went to slam the door again, but his heavy, booted leg slammed into the gap, wedging it wide open.
"What the fuck is your problem?!" I barked, my chin tilting up stubbornly. "If you have something to say, spit it out and fucking leave, Uncle dearest!"
He still looked completely unfazed, unbothered by my outburst, which only fed my fury.
"Are you always this rude, Angel?" My name rolled off his tongue like velvet laced with poison. "That name doesn’t suit you at all. You’re more like the devil’s sinful daughter."
"And you just don’t know when to shut your fucking mouth! What makes you think you can talk to me like that?!" I stepped into his space, fully agitated.
For a fraction of a second, something pitch-black and deadly flashed in his grey eyes. But it vanished just as fast, replaced by that infuriating mask of calm.
"Are you especially rude today because your Daddy is about to give you a little sibling?" He took a slow step forward. His overwhelming closeness was terrifying, forcing me to stumble backward.
His thunderstorm gaze locked onto mine as he added, "Or are you especially mad because I saw your pretty pink pussy earlier? Which is it, Angel?"
A sharp, shocked gasp broke from my lips. He was too close now—if I didn’t back up, his broad chest would press right against mine.
I took two shaky steps back into my bedroom. Big mistake. Damien saw the space as an invitation and stepped right over the threshold.
The door clicked shut behind him with a heavy, final sound, and panic rushed up my throat like bile.
He was fucking huge. His physical presence dominated the entire room, suffocating the air until all I could smell was his sandalwood cologne and raw heat. Standing at six-foot-four, Damien was half an inch taller than Vincenzo. They both had the same broad, muscled builds covered in intricate dark tattoos, but where Vincenzo’s frame promised safety... Damien’s promised ruin.
At five-foot-five, I felt completely swallowed up by his height. The casual black t-shirt he wore did nothing to hide the terrifying density of his arms and chest.
"Get out!" I commanded, trying to force authority into a voice that trembled. It always worked on the house staff, but Damien... Damien was a different breed.
"You could have told me to leave earlier, too," he murmured softly, "instead of squirting right in front of my face."
My eyes flared, my breath hitching in my chest. "Is that what you told Vincenzo?! That you saw me touching myself?!"
Shame crept into my tone, but anger quickly buried it. It wasn’t my fault he entered my room unannounced and caught me in that state!
"You did more than just touch yourself, didn’t you, Slut?"
"Don’t call me that!" I hissed.
He took another step, trapping me as I faltered backward again.
"You were moaning your father’s name, spreading your thighs, and showing me all that wet cunt of yours while you came right into my eyes. What are you, if not a filthy little slut, Angel?" His sneering gaze held me captive.
My throat went dry, my mind racing to find words to fight back against this man who was intent on stripping away all my dignity.
"I was surprised by the warm welcome you gave me, but no," Damien said quietly. "I didn’t tell Vincenzo a word. Your father had already decided to ship you away the moment you turned eighteen."
No.
That couldn’t be true.
"I don’t believe a word out of your mouth! You and that bitch sister of yours did this!" I gritted out. My eighteenth birthday was just last week, and Vincenzo had showered me with designer gifts and attention. There was no way he’d been planning to cast me out all along.
Damien just shrugged, completely indifferent to whether I believed him or not. "Anyway. Back to why I’m here. Your father was worried when you ran off like a child. He wanted you to have this since you barely touched dinner." He extended the glass of milk toward me.
"I don’t want it!" He needed to fucking leave so I could nurse my broken heart in peace. I wanted to sob into my pillows, or maybe hurt myself—if I was bleeding, Vincenzo would leave Jillian’s bed and come running to me. I could pretend to be terrified, and he’d hold me in his arms all night.
Yes. That was the plan. I had to stop Jillian from getting pregnant at all costs.
"Drink it, Angel. So I can leave."
My head snapped up. Who the fuck did he think he was talking to?
"I never asked you to bring me a damn thing! You can leave right now!" I snarled, my lip curling back.
He didn’t move. His hand remained extended, his thick knuckles white against the glass.
I scoffed loudly and crossed my arms under my bust. Damien’s eyes immediately dropped to the movement, lingering heavily on my chest.
I almost rolled my eyes. What a filthy pervert—he wasn’t even bothering to hide it anymore. I couldn’t blame him, honestly; my breasts were perkier and far better shaped than Jillian’s bloated ones anyway.
I took a second to study him through my lashes. If I didn’t loathe his existence, Damien would be considered breathtakingly gorgeous—maybe even as hot as Vincenzo. Rugged features, sharp jaw line... well, except for those cold, dead grey eyes. Those were genuinely terrifying.
I subtly shifted my arms, pushing my breasts together to give him an even better view. Why not?
Watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard, his eyes darkening with sudden, raw hunger, gave me a rush of pure triumph. I loved when men lusted after me, knowing they could stare all they wanted but could never touch. I thrived on their desperate, pathetic fantasies.
My breasts weren’t as huge as Jillian’s, but they were firm and perky, with dusky nipples that were naturally erect and showed straight through sheer fabrics. I used to tease the guards with them just to feel powerful.
And right now? Damien was practically salivating. He looked drawn in, completely intoxicated, and the sight sent a sudden, traitorous jolt of heat straight to my pussy.
Wait... what?
I pressed my thighs tightly together under my dress, trying to squash the ache, but it only throbbed harder. What the hell was happening to me?
"Drink your milk, little girl," Damien’s voice turned rough and raspy as his eyes dragged back up to my face. "When you’re offered something, you take it and say thank you. That’s how good girls behave."
"Or what?" I sneered, ignoring the bizarre, hot pulse between my legs. "You’ll run and report me to Vincenzo so he sends me away faster?"
"Your father is trying to protect you by sending you away," Damien murmured, his voice cooling the room like a sudden frost. "Though... he won’t be able to protect you from what’s coming."
Confusion knitted my brows together. "What the hell does that mean?"
He didn’t answer right away.
He just stared. Dragging those icy, predatory grey eyes over my face, my lips, my chest.
"What is he protecting me from?" I demanded, my breath hitching.
Damien leaned down until his lips brushed the shell of my ear, his hot breath making my skin break into goosebumps.
"From me," he whispered darkly. "From getting fucked. Because very soon, Angel... you’re going to be calling me Daddy."