Stripping For My Devil Ex Husband

Few moments Earlier

​The heavy oak door of the executive corner office clicked shut, sealing out the silent corridors of the top floor.

​Damian stood behind his desk, his suit jacket off, his dark eyes fixed on Vivian as she leaned against the leather armchair with a confident, effortless composure.

​For years, Damian had known the truth. He knew it was Vivian who had systematically poisoned Anastasia’s mind with insidious, calculated lies prior to their divorce.

Back then, consumed by a blinding rage against the Vance family for what they stood for, Damian had simply stood by and let it happen. He had let Vivian break Ana. He had wanted Ana to suffer, using her as the scapegoat for her family’s sins.

​It was a cold, psychological game he had willingly permitted... until now.

​"I didn’t summon you here to talk about Stark Industries’ board seats, Vivian," Damian said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, whisper-thin register that made the air in the room freeze solid.

​Vivian raised an eyebrow, a faintly amused smile touching her lips. "Then why am I here, Damian?"

​"The leaked marketing plans," Damian began, taking a slow, lethal step around his desk. "The way you weaponized Valerie to do your dirty work. And those forged hospital documents you handed my sister to throw at Anastasia’s feet."

​Vivian didn’t flinch. Instead, her smile deepened, a spark of brazen arrogance flashing in her eyes.

​"I knew you’d figure it out," she murmured, tilting her head. "I knew you’d come asking me about those papers. But just like last time, Damian... you aren’t going to do a single thing about it. You let me destroy her two years ago because you hated her family. You let me carve her to pieces, and you enjoyed watching it. Why would now be any different?"

​Damian stopped right in front of her. The dark, suffocating aura radiating off him made her breath hitch, but she refused to back down.

​"Because last time, I allowed it," Damian growled low, his obsidian eyes locking onto hers with a lethal promise of ruin. "This time, I won’t tolerate it. You crossed a line, Vivian. If you push your hands into my life or target Anastasia again, I will destroy everything your father built. Do not test me."

​Vivian’s smile vanished, replaced by a desperate, intense flicker of obsession. She stepped closer, closing the distance between them until she was inches from his broad chest.

​"Why are you protecting her?!" Vivian whispered, her voice softening into a gentle, innocent lover’s act. "You know we belong together, Damian. Our connection is stronger than anything you have with that weak, broken girl. I still remember the night we spent together back in university... I remember every second of it. I love you, Damian. I’ve always loved you."

​"That night was a mistake," Damian said coldly, his face devoid of any emotion. "And I made it clear to you then, just as I am making it clear to you now... I have never had feelings for you. Not then. Not now."

​"You don’t mean that," Vivian choked out, her obsession overriding her logic.

​In a sudden, desperate move, Vivian threw herself forward, her hands flying up to grip the back of his neck, forcing him down as she crashed her lips passionately onto his.

​Damian’s jaw clenched, his hands coming up to grip her wrists to throw her off...

​Click.

​The heavy brass handle turned, and the oak door swung open.

​"Damian, about tomorrow..."

​Anastasia’s voice froze mid-sentence.

​Her heart dropped into an icy, bottomless abyss as she stood frozen on the threshold, witnessing Vivian wrapped around Damian, their bodies pressed close, their lips locked together in the dim light of his office.

​The soft sound of her breath cutting short shattered the heavy room.

​Damian’s head snapped toward the doorway. The second his dark, obsidian eyes locked onto Anastasia’s pale, horrified face, he violently shoved Vivian away, a dark, lethal curse ripping from his throat.

​"Fuck."

Ana didn’t scream. She didn’t cry. She didn’t throw a single word of accusation at either of them.

​She stood at the open doorway, her pale face completely drained of color, her eyes turning into empty, hollow voids. For one agonizing second, her gaze met Damian’s...

​Without saying a word, Ana stepped back into the hallway, grabbed the handle, and pulled the heavy oak door shut, sealing them inside.

​"Damian..." Vivian started, a triumphant smile beginning to form on her lips as she reached for his arm again.

​"Get your fucking hands off me," Damian growled, his voice a lethal, skin-crawling purr. He grabbed Vivian by the wrist with enough force to make her gasp, flinging her back against the leather armchair. His obsidian eyes burned with a dark, suffocating fury. "You just made the absolute worst mistake of your life, Vivian."

​He didn’t waste another second on her. Turning on his heel, Damian tore open the door and stepped out into the silent, dim-lit corridor.

​Down the hallway, Ana was walking briskly toward the private executive elevator. She wasn’t running or hysterically fleeing... she moved with a quiet, spine-chilling dignity, her heels clicking steadily against the polished marble floor.

​Zero guilt crossed Damian’s mind for what had just happened. In his head, he hadn’t wanted Vivian’s kiss, nor did he care about romantic loyalty.

What made his blood boil was the fact that Anastasia had broken his direct command. He had absolutely texted her to go straight to the private garage at 5 PM.

​Instead, she had disobediently come up to his office... and now, looking at her rigid, retreating back, a terrifying sensation clawed at his chest.

​She was slipping. Her submission, her spirit, her fight... she was checking out completely, pulling herself beyond his reach into an untouchable ice-cold shell.

​Damian covered the distance in long, predatory strides. Just as the metallic elevator doors slid open and Ana stepped inside, his broad hand shot out, jamming the doors open.

​Ana didn’t flinch. She slowly turned her head, looking up at him with a face so eerily calm, so devoid of emotion, that it hit him harder.

​"Come out," Damian demanded, his voice dropping an octave as his jaw clenched tight.

​"I came up to tell you something," Ana said, her tone flat, hollow, and completely indifferent. "Tomorrow is my promised day off. I will be attending a department dinner with Clara and the interns. I am letting you know so you don’t waste your time looking for me."

​She reached past his chest to press the door-close button, completely ignoring the dangerous aura rolling off him.

​The utter lack of jealousy or anger in her voice sent a wave of possessive rage crashing through Damian’s veins. Vivian had ruined his leverage, and Ana was daring to establish boundaries.

​Step by step, Damian backed her straight into the rear mirror of the elevator, his massive frame swallowing her whole as the doors finally hissed shut, locking them together in the small, descending box.

​He slammed both palms onto the glass mirror on either side of her head, trapping her completely in his territory. His shadow fell heavy over her pale, indifferent face, his dark eyes burning with an unyielding, terrifying possessiveness.

​"Tomorrow may be your day off, Anastasia," Damian growled low against her lips, his breath hot and dangerous against her skin. "But tonight... you are mine."

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