The VIP lounge at L’Éclipse was drenched in dim purple lighting, heavy bass, and the unmistakable scent of expensive whiskey and designer perfume.
Ana sat in the middle of the plush velvet booth, a fourth glass of gin in hand, her face flushed from the alcohol. Determined to play the part of the unbothered, confident woman, she laughed along with Damian’s university crew.
The guys were surprisingly warm, but across the low glass table, the atmosphere was venomous.
Vivian Stark sat draped in a scarlet silk dress, her sleek heels resting casually near the table. She didn’t say a word at first... she didn’t need to dirty her hands.
The two heiresses flanking her, who had trailed behind Vivian since their days at elite private academies, did the shame talking for her.
"It really is a miracle, isn’t it?" One of the girls chimed in with a fake, condescending laugh, her sharp eyes scanning Ana. "A girl disappears for two whole years... and then suddenly crawls right back into high society. We all know how this works, Anastasia. You realized the real world doesn’t care about a fallen heiress, so you came running back when your bank account dried up."
"She’s right," The other girl added, taking a sip of her cocktail. "I mean, back in university, everyone talked about how Vivian and Damian were the ultimate power couple. They practically ran the social circuit together. You were just a temporary distraction he married on a whim."
Ana’s grip tightened around her glass until her knuckles turned white. The alcohol burned in her veins, making her want to hurl her drink straight across the table.
Before Ana could snap back, the heavy, suffocating weight of Damian’s presence shifted in the shadows.
"You’re speaking too loudly in my presence," Damian’s deep baritone dropped like an anvil into the quiet booth. His voice was flat, dripping with smooth, effortless cruelty. "And you’re boring me."
The low, icy tone made the two girls freeze, their faces instantly draining of color.
Seeing her friends falter, Vivian smoothly stepped in to defuse the situation, playing the gracious mediator.
She let out a soft, elegant chuckle, swirling her glass. "Ignore them, Damian. They’ve had a bit too much to drink. Besides, Anastasia being back is a good thing... Look at how she got you to actually join us for drinks tonight when you usually avoid these reunions."
Damian didn’t respond to Vivian’s sweet deflection. His dark, lethal eyes weren’t even on her anymore.
They were locked entirely on the end of the booth.
One of the younger executives in their group, slightly tipsy and influenced by the atmosphere, had slid down the velvet bench. He was sitting uncomfortably close to Ana... far too close for Damian to ever consider it casual. He leaned in, whispering something witty in Ana’s ear, making her let out a loose, drunken laugh that echoed over the music.
Beside Damian, Julian leaned back in his seat, taking a slow sip of his bourbon. He leaned over slightly toward Damian, his voice dropping so only his friend could hear.
"He came up to me before you arrived, by the way," Julian murmured casually. "Asked if Anastasia was officially divorced yet... or if she was still fair game."
Damian didn’t flinch, but the atmosphere around him instantly dropped below freezing. His dark eyes slowly shifted from the guy’s arm resting near Ana’s waist to cut directly toward Julian.
"What the hell are you playing at, Julian?" Damian growled low in his throat, a dark, murderous threat lacing his baritone.
Julian just shrugged, completely unbothered, a mischievous glint in his eye. "What? I just liked seeing you jealous for once. It’s a rare sight, Sterling."
Damian didn’t answer. Slowly, deliberately, he set his heavy glass down on the marble table with a sharp clink that echoed sharply over the music.
_________________________
Ana pushed herself up from the velvet booth, her head spinning slightly from the gin and the heavy bass throbbing through the floorboards. She ignored the guy beside her trying to steady her elbow and made a straight line for the dimly lit VIP hallway, desperate for a few minutes away from Vivian’s fake smiles and Damian’s suffocating gaze.
The VIP washroom was a lavish, sanctuary illuminated by soft amber sconces. Ana washed her hands, splashing cold water onto her burning cheeks. She looked at herself in the mirror, her lips slightly swollen, her eyes bright with a dangerous mix of alcohol and defiance.
I survived today, she reminded herself, smoothing her dress down. I can survive him.
She took a deep breath, composed her posture, and unlocked the heavy door to return to the lounge.
The moment she stepped out into the private corridor, a large, warm hand shot out from the shadows.
Before a scream could even form in her throat, Ana was dragged backward into the vast, soundproof washroom. The heavy door slammed shut, and the unmistakable click of an electronic lock echoed sharply through the quiet space.
Ana stumbled, her back hitting the cold, polished marble wall.
Standing over her was Damian.
He looked imposing and dark in the dim amber lighting, his suit jacket unbuttoned, his tie loosened just a fraction. The relaxed arrogance from earlier was entirely gone, replaced by a raw, predatory stillness that made her heart hammer violently against her ribs.
She could feel it instantly in her bones... he was absolute trouble.
"Damian," Ana gasped out, her breath hitching as she tried to push past him. "What are you doing? Someone will come in..."
"I locked the entire floor," Damian’s deep baritone dropped into a dangerous, low rumble that vibrated straight through her chest. He didn’t move an inch, blocking her completely with his towering frame. "No one is coming through that door until I allow them to."
"You’re crazy!" Ana spat, her drunken courage flaring up as she tried to shove his chest. "Let me go back to the table. Julian and his friends are waiting..."
"Julian’s friends?" Damian cut her off smoothly, taking a heavy step closer until the heat radiating off his body enveloped her completely.
His large hand came up, his long fingers wrapping firmly around her throat... not to choke her, but to pin her head back gently against the marble, forcing her to look up into his dark, merciless eyes. "Is that what we’re calling him now, doll? The one who was leaning so close to your ear? The one asking if you were fair game?"
Ana’s breath caught, her pulse fluttering wildly beneath his warm palm. "I don’t know what you are talking about. He was just being nice..."
"He was looking at what belongs to me," Damian growled, his thumb tracing the sharp line of her jaw with an agonizingly possessive pressure. "And you enjoyed the attention, didn’t you? You thought taking my best friend’s arm and letting other men touch you was a little victory over me."
"I am not your property!" Ana hissed, trying to bite back, but her voice cracked under the weight of his intense gaze.
"Yes, you are for the whole year!"
A slow, wicked smirk pulled at the corner of Damian’s lips... a look devoid of any warmth or mercy.
"You keep lying to yourself, Anastasia," he whispered against her lips, his hot breath scenting the air with rich scotch.
Without giving her a chance to retaliate, his free hand slid down her side, passing her waist, and settled low over her hip, his large palm cupping her rear through the fabric of her dress with a sharp, possessive squeeze.
Ana gasped at the sudden, electrifying contact, her core instantly throbbing in traitorous response.
"You can drink with my friends, you can try to play the independent woman in front of Vivian..." Damian murmured, sliding his hand further down, making her back arch involuntarily off the wall as his fingers dug into her sensitive skin. "...but the moment I touch you, your body remembers who commands it."
"Damian... stop..." Ana whimpered, her hands gripping his broad shoulders... not to push him away, but to keep herself from sinking to her knees as a dizzying wave of heat rushed between her legs.
"Say it," Damian demanded, his baritone dropping into a deadly whisper right against the shell of her ear, his thumb applying a firm, agonizing pressure through her clothes that pushed her straight toward the edge. "Tell me you’re mine before I take you right here against this sink."
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