Chapter 6 Six

As I approached Damon, a sense of apprehension gnawed at my insides, my steps hesitant and cautious. His usually composed and aloof demeanor is now twisted into a mask of fury and rage, his eyes blazing with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine.

Before I can even utter a word, his hand collides with my cheek in a stinging slap, the force of the blow sending shockwaves of pain radiating through my skull. I stumble backward, my vision swimming with tears as I struggled to comprehend the sudden onslaught of violence.

But Damon isn't finished yet. With a strong grip on the collar of my dress, he yanks me towards him, his face so close to mine that I could smell his breath, it reeks of alcohol and bitterness. It is then that I realize he's drunk, his senses clouded all the alcohol he took.

As he glares down at me with a mixture of what seems like contempt and disdain, a very sickening realization dawns upon me. Penelope, of course it has to be Penelope.

That scheming biatch.

With her silver tongue and honeyed words, she must have poisoned his mind with whatever lies she is cooking up. Because, for as long as I could remember, she has been a constant presence in our lives.

But even as the sting of Damon's betrayal cut deep into my heart, I know that I can not let him see the extent of my pain. That will only give him more satisfaction than he already has, so with every fiber of my being, I force myself to remain composed, to steel my expression against the torrent of emotions threatening to consume me.

“You stupid bitch, you almost ruined my chances of getting recognized globally because you had to excuse yourself to the kitchen” He seethes. The venom in his voice cut through the air like a knife, each word laced with a piece of my heart. My heart pounds in my chest, a sickening mixture of fear and frustration churning within me as I struggle to find the right words to defend myself.

"I did go to get water, but–but the fridge was empty," I stammer, my voice barely above a whisper as I tried to reason with him, to make him see that I had not intended to disrupt his stupid plans that was obviously more important than me.

But Damon being Damon is relentless, his anger simmering just beneath the surface as he continued to hurl insults at me. It was as if he took pleasure in tearing me down, in finding fault with every action I took, no matter how innocent.

"Or you were gossiping?" he sneered, his words like daggers aimed straight at my heart. I felt the sting of tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I had learned long ago that showing weakness in front of Damon only fueled his rage further.

His phone begins to buzz, a sudden interruption in the tense atmosphere, both of us are momentarily startled. Damon releases his grip on my dress, his attention diverts to the glowing screen of his phone. In that brief moment of respite, I feel a surge of relief wash over me, grateful to whoever didn't find the middle of the night as a late time to call.

With a curt nod, He motions for me to go inside, his demeanor shifting as if the confrontation we had just shared never happened. I turned away, my cheeks still smarting from the sting of his slap, the sound of his voice fading into the distance with each step I took.

As I retraced my steps to the bedroom, exhaustion weighed heavy on my shoulders, each movement feeling like a Herculean effort. With a weary sigh, I began to undress, the fabric of my clothes clinging to my skin as if reluctant to let go.

The soft glow of candlelight beckons to me from the corner of the room, casting dancing shadows against the walls, so I walk into my closet and ransack my candle bag for a rose-scented candle. I reach for them when I find them, the thoughts of their warm light illuminating the bathroom, calms me. So I pick a lighter, and starts to hum.

With slow and careful movements not to through every on the floor and getting Damon's attention—wherever he is—, I make my way to the bathroom, the steam from the warm rosewater bath that one of the maids had prepared earlier wafts towards me like a gentle breeze and into my nose. As I sank into the soothing water, a sense of calm washes over me, easing the aches and pains that seemed to plague my body.

I push all today's awful memories to the back of my head.

Tonight, I'm going to sleep peacefully, like a baby. I'm not going to care about Damon, or anything else that will ruin my mood.

But, of course, wishes don't always come true.

My phone suddenly buzzes insistently from the slab adjoined to the tub, shattering the fragile illusion of peace that I thought I had. With a sigh, I reach for the device, my fingers trembling slightly as I unlock the screen to reveal a text from Victor.

«Don't forget tomorrow night. Wear black» The message read, and it breaks the thin glass in my head that keeps the insane thoughts from contaminating the sane thoughts.

As I stare at the words on the screen, a knot forms in the pit of my stomach, The tingles from my core sends my body heating up.

Makes me wonder what Victor is currently doing.

A thought suddenly hits me. I know there's a hundred percent probability that I'm going to regret this, but nevertheless, I launch my camera app, and take a picture of my lips to the top of my bosom, I send it to him along with a message.

«Sir, Yes Sir»

Okay I think I'm drunk.