Damian leaned in, his dark eyes fixed on her mouth as he moved to claim her lips right there in the quiet, descending box.
Before his mouth could touch hers, Ana’s hands slammed against his chest, pushing him back with every ounce of strength she had left.
"Don’t," Ana choked out, her voice trembling with a mixture of raw disgust and suffocating pain. She glared at him, her dark eyes flashing with a sudden, fiery defiance. "Don’t you dare put your lips on mine when that filthy woman’s mark is still evident on your mouth."
Damian didn’t look angry. A slow, dangerous smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
He saw it... the crack in her icy armor. It wasn’t flat indifference; it was resentment.
It was raw, unadulterated jealousy. She was burning under the weight of what she had seen, and that was something he could work with. That was something he could control.
"Then remove her mark," Damian murmured, his voice a dark, velvet purr as he leaned closer, trapping her completely against the glass mirror. "Claim me right here, right now. Put your mark on your master instead."
Ana’s trembling hand moved up. Her fingers pressed against his lower lip, wiping off the faint trace of lipstick with a harsh, frustrated force.
The dam broke inside her. The humiliation, the suffocating pain of four years, and the image of Vivian in his arms exploded all at once.
Her hands balled into tight fists, and she began to thrash against his broad chest, beating her small hands repeatedly against him in a desperate, frantic frenzy.
Damian stood there, taking every strike without flinching. He let her hit him once. He let her hit him twice.
Then, in one swift, fluid motion, his broad hand clamped around both of her wrists, pulling them up and pinning them firmly above her head against the cool glass.
Ana gasped, her chest heaving as she stared up at him, trapped and breathless.
A single, silent tear trickled down her pale cheek.
Damian’s dark eyes softened just an inch. Leaning down, he gently pressed his lips to that stray teardrop, catching it before it could fall.
He moved to her other cheek, peppering her soft skin with small, lingering kisses... down her cheekbone, along her jaw, brushing against her temple... soothing the storm raging inside her.
And then, before she could utter another sound, he captured her mouth.
It was a dark, dominating kiss... possessive, hungry, and completely unyielding. His tongue entered her mouth mercilessly, deepening the kiss until her knees threatened to give out beneath her, claiming her entirely in the silent, descending darkness of the elevator.
The heavy elevator doors slid open into the quiet, dimly lit subterranean VIP garage.
Damian finally released her wrists, but the moment they slid into the back of the waiting black car and the privacy partition rolled shut, his hands were back on her.
He had zero intention of letting her sit in peace. Every single minute left before midnight was his, and he meant to claim every second of it.
As the luxury sedan glided out into the rainy city streets, Damian pulled her flush against his solid frame. One large hand slid up the back of her neck, tangling in her dark hair to tilt her face up, while his thumb relentlessly traced the swollen, sensitive contours of her lips.
Ana tried to pull back, turning her head away to escape the suffocating weight of his attention. "Don’t..."
"Quiet, Anastasia," Damian murmured darkly, his breath hot against her ear as his other hand spanned firmly across her waist, pulling her impossibly closer.
He pressed hot, lingering kisses down the side of her throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just above her collarbone. "You have until midnight. After that, you can have your precious day off. Until then, you belong to me."
Shivering despite herself under his heavy, possessive touch, Ana forced her hands against his chest, refusing to completely give in.
"I’m hungry," Ana said suddenly, her voice remarkably steady despite the racing of her pulse. She stared straight ahead, pushing against his lapel.
Damian paused, his lips resting against the curve of her neck. He tilted his head up, his dark eyes burning into hers.
"I’ll feed you all you want after midnight," he purred low, his fingers sliding lower to grip her hip.
Ana didn’t yield. Instead, she turned her head back, her dark eyes locking onto his with a cool, sharp edge.
"It was your rule that I get my meals on time," she reminded him, throwing his own cold, rigid system straight back into his face.
Damian’s obsidian eyes trailed down to her lips. A slow, dangerous smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"You’re talking too much," he murmured, his thumb brushing over her lower lip. "Want me to shut that mouth?"
"Yes," Ana replied without skipping a beat, her gaze unflinching. "With food. Or else I won’t let you touch me."
"You are in no position to make demands here, Anastasia."
"Try me," she whispered, her chin tilting up in defiant challenge. "I am very serious."
Damian stared at her for a long, quiet second.
He knew exactly what she was doing. He saw right through her little scheme... she was stalling.
She was trying to drag out the night, spinning every second she could until the clock hit twelve and her promised "day off" officially began, thinking it would create a wall between them.
A quiet, dangerous humor flickered deep in his eyes.
Fine, Damian thought, his jaw clenching as he held her gaze. I’ll let her play her little game this time. Let’s see how long she can act tough.
He pulled back just an inch, his hands lingering heavily on her waist before he reached into his inner suit pocket and tapped his phone.
"To the private dining house in Midtown," Damian ordered the driver calmly, his eyes never leaving Ana’s pale, stubborn face. "Now."
The car pulled up to the discreet, cobblestone alleyway of an elite, invitation-only dining house in Midtown.
The heavy oak doors gave way to a world of dark mahogany, soft velvet drapes, and dim, amber candlelight... a haven built exclusively for the city’s most powerful figures to dine in complete secrecy.
The head waiter bowed low the second he recognized Damian, escorting them immediately to a secluded VIP booth tucked behind heavy silk curtains.
The moment they sat down, Ana took total control of the menu.
Damian watched her with intensity, his broad frame leaning back against the plush leather booth, one arm casually draped over the back of the seat.
He knew her usual habits... Ana ate sparingly, delicate and quick. But tonight, she intentionally ordered a five-course spread, including heavy appetizers, rich soups, and an elaborate main course.
She took her sweet, sweet time with every single bite.
She chewed slowly, savoring the flavor of each forkful, using the heavy silver cutlery with meticulous precision. Whenever she caught Damian staring at her, a tiny, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.
She put on a picture of total innocence, her dark eyes flashing with a dangerous, unspoken challenge every time she raised her glass to her lips.
She was teasing him. She was playing a sneaky, calculated little game to burn through every minute of the clock.
What Anastasia didn’t realize, however, was that her sudden spark of defiance wasn’t annoying him... it was thoroughly, intoxicatingly arousing him.
Seeing the fire back in her eyes, watching her use her mind to fight back against his dominance, sent a dark heat pulsing through his veins.
Damian offered a slow, lingering smile, his obsidian eyes tracking the movement of her throat as she swallowed another bite. Let her play, he thought. Let her think she’s winning.
By the time the final plates were cleared, Ana glanced down at her wrist.
The sleek hands of her watch read 9:00 PM.
Her subtle smirk instantly vanished, her brows pulling into a faint, tense frown. Three hours. There were still three whole hours left before midnight.
A dangerous eternity in Damian Sterling’s world. A lot could be done to her in three hours.
Damian caught the subtle shift in her posture, noticing the way her breath hitched as she realized how much night was still left.
With a low chuckle, Damian signaled the head waiter over with a brief flick of his wrist.
"The check," Damian ordered smoothly, before his dark eyes slid back to Ana’s pale face. A dangerous, mocking thread lined his voice as he purred, "I hope my little captive is stuffed to her heart’s content."
Ana’s chin tilted up instantly, her eyes hardening as she tried to salvage her game. "No... I’m still not full. I want dessert."
Damian let out a deep, chest-rumbling laugh, the rich sound vibrating through the quiet booth.
"Anymore food and you will burst, Anastasia," he murmured, his gaze dropping to her flat stomach before rising back to her defiant eyes.
Without waiting for her reply, Damian laid his black card on the waiter’s tray and stood up. His massive frame towered over the table, casting a heavy shadow over her.
In one swift, effortless movement, Damian reached down, his large hand wrapping securely around her uninjured wrist, and pulled Anastasia straight up onto her feet. The sudden pull brought her chest flush against his broad torso.
He leaned down until his lips hovered a breath away from her ear, his hand sliding down to grip her waist with absolute, non-negotiable authority.
"I went by your rules," Damian growled low, his hot breath fanning against her skin as his fingers dug possessively into her hip. "Now... it’s my turn."
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