Stripping For My Devil Ex Husband

The door swung shut behind Damian, leaving the room in a ringing, suffocating quiet.

​Anastasia sank onto the edge of the mattress, her knees completely giving out. Her hands shook violently against the dark velvet spread.

​Trafficking syndicate. Auction papers. Off-the-books debt.

​Every word Damian had snarled at her spun through her mind like broken glass. She pressed her palms to her temples, trying to force the noise to stop.

For years, her father had been the tragic victim in her memory... a man pushed to the brink by the cutthroat Sterling empire. But the fury in Damian’s eyes hadn’t been a calculated lie. It had been raw, ugly, and unfiltered.

​Could her father really have signed her away to monsters?

​And then there was Dante. The charming, dangerous man in the café who had whispered promises of freedom, claiming he was the one who had tried to pull her out of her father’s grasp. If Damian was telling the truth, Dante hadn’t been offering a rescue... he had been the buyer.

​The thought made nausea twist in her gut. She was trapped in a labyrinth of half-truths, unable to tell which man was her executioner and which was the monster who had kept her alive.

_________________________

​Downstairs, the corridor echoed with Damian’s rapid, rigid footsteps.

​He didn’t make it past the grand library before Victoria stepped directly into his path. Her posture was straight, but her face was pale with disbelief. Valerie stood close to her mother, eyes wide with surprise.

​"What in God’s name was that?" Victoria demanded, her voice sharp enough to slice through the chill in the air.

​Damian didn’t break his stride until he was inches from her. "Not now, Mother."

​"Yes, now," Victoria countered, refusing to budge. "The two of you were screaming so loudly the guards at the perimeter could probably hear you. I thought you had resolved this. You brought her back, you bought the ring, you were preparing to remarry... and now you’re tearing each other apart under my roof while Vivian Stark is burning your assets to the ground?"

​Damian’s jaw worked, a muscle ticking violently in his cheek. "It has nothing to do with Vivian."

​"Then what is it, Damian?" Victoria pressed, searching his dark, unreadable eyes. "Valerie told me what Anastasia said in the drawing room. A transaction? A contract? What did you do years ago that is still poisoning this family today?"

​Damian’s hands curled into tight fists at his sides. He looked at his mother, the weight of the last years pressing down on his shoulders like lead.

​"I did what I had to do to keep her close," Damian said, his tone low, gravelly, and laced with venom. "And I’d do it again."

________________________

The next morning brought a cold, pale light through the tall arched windows of Northwood Manor, doing nothing to thaw the frost inside the house.

​Anastasia walked down the staircase, Valerie trailing quietly a half-step behind her. Ana’s eyes were shadowed from a sleepless night, but her posture remained rigid.

​In the dining room, Damian was already seated at the head of the long table.

​He was dressed down in a charcoal sweater, the sleeves shoved up his forearms, with a cup of black coffee steaming beside a stack of encrypted tablets. But the casual attire did nothing to soften the lethal, unyielding tension in his jaw.

​As their footsteps echoed across the floor, Damian lifted his gaze. His obsidian eyes locked onto Anastasia instantly.

​Ana didn’t acknowledge him. Keeping her chin high and her expression carved from stone, she bypassed the empty seat directly to Damian’s right... the chair already pulled out for her.

Instead, she walked straight to the opposite side of the table and sat down beside Valerie, putting the entire length of mahogany between them.

​A muscle in Damian’s jaw twitched. His knuckles whitened where his hand rested against the table, but he said nothing.

​Silently, Damian reached over, pushing a small porcelain pitcher of warm almond milk and a plate of fresh pastries toward the center... the exact way she always took her breakfast.

​Ana didn’t even look at it. Without missing a beat, she reached for the plain black tea beside Valerie’s elbow, poured a single cup, and left his offering entirely untouched.

​Victoria, seated across from Valerie, watched the cold exchange with tight lips before setting down her silver fork.

​"Damian," Victoria began, her voice crisp and measured. "Do the board members know what happened to the penthouse yet? The news outlets are already running speculative headlines about the fire. Is this going to affect Sterling Enterprises’ market stability on Monday?"

​"Walter is managing the corporate press releases," Damian answered smoothly, his voice low and devoid of emotion. "The board will be told it was an electrical malfunction in the sub-level grid. The stock will hold."

​"It’s not just the board who is panicking," Valerie spoke up hesitantly, looking between her brother and mother. "Jullian contacted me on my private line early this morning. He said you’re not responding to any of your secure channels, Damian. He’s worried sick, and he wants to meet you."

​At the mention of Jullian Montgomery, Damian’s eyes narrowed slightly. Jullian had been his close friend for years, but his past ties to Vivian Stark made every outside contact a calculated risk right now.

​Damian set his coffee mug down with a deliberate, solid thud.

​"Tell Jullian I’ll call him when I’m ready," Damian said coldly, his gaze sliding back across the table to settle heavily on Anastasia. "Until the perimeter threat is neutralized, no one enters Northwood. No exceptions."

________________________

Anastasia stood by the tall window of the north-wing library, staring out at the rain slickening the stone terraces below.

​

​"How long are you going to keep acting like this?"

​The low baritone came from right behind her.

​Ana spun around, her spine hitting the cold frame of the window. Damian had crossed the room in absolute silence. He stood inches away, tall and unyielding, blocking out the dim daylight behind her.

​"Act like what?" Ana snapped, lifting her chin to hold his dark, piercing gaze. "Like a woman who knows exactly what she is to you?"

​A slight, dangerous smirk touched the corner of Damian’s lips. "You weren’t always this miserable under my roof, Anastasia. As I recall, when we first married, you spent half your days doing the most bizarre things just to get a single second of my attention."

​The mockery hit a raw nerve. Her face flared with furious heat.

​"I was like that because I was in love with you then!" She spat, the confession tasting like poison on her tongue. "I was young, stupid, and thought you were actually a decent human. But now? Now I’m just counting down the exact days until my slave contract expires."

​Damian didn’t flinch. If anything, the cold amusement in his eyes darkened into something far more predatory. He tilted his head slightly, his tone dropping into a silky, terrifyingly calm rhythm designed to strip her bare.

​"A slave contract," he repeated smoothly, his voice dropping an octave, rich and dangerously soft. "If you remember so clearly that you’re bound to me for the remaining days, Anastasia, then you know the terms. You listen to me without objection."

​He stepped even closer, eliminating the final inch of space until his broad chest nearly brushed her trembling frame.

​"These past few weeks, I’ve let your little tantrums slide," Damian murmured, his gaze dipping slowly to her lips before locking back onto her wide, defiant eyes. "I gave you room to run. But I’m done tolerating it."

​He leaned down, his lips ghosting over the curve of her jaw, his heat searing against her skin.

​"You want to talk about your duties?" Damian whispered, his dark voice vibrating with dark, possessive hunger. "I want you to make me yours."

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