"Get the SUV ready," Damian barked into his phone, his voice like a grinding slate as he pulled his heavy charcoal overcoat off the rack in the foyer.
He turned to his head of household and butler, Walter, who was standing nearby in the hall. "Walter. You’re coming with me."
Walter didn’t hesitate, inclining his head crisply. "Understood, Mr. Sterling."
Damian strode out to the driveway, where two black armored SUVs sat idling in the cool night air. He signaled his head of home security, pointing directly toward the lead driver.
"We’ve tracked a ping from the getaway vehicle three miles out," Damian ordered grimly, getting into the back seat as Walter slipped into the passenger side. "Drive. Block every exit route, and don’t slow down until we have eyes on that car."
The cars cut through the thick fog rolling across the winding estate road.
Minutes later, the four armored SUVs belonging to Sterling Global’s tactical team boxed in the suspicious dark vehicle on a deserted stretch of road, less than two miles from the main gate. Headlights blinded the fog, and laser sights painted the dark tinted windows of the stationary car.
Damian stepped out of the lead vehicle, his dark overcoat billowing in the cold night air. His expression was pure stone, his eyes burning with a lethal, unforgiving glare as his men surrounded the car with weapons drawn.
"Step out of the vehicle! Hands where we can see them!" the security commander bellowed over a megaphone.
The driver’s side door opened slowly. A man stepped out, his hands held high in the air, trembling violently as he almost tripped over his own boots. Beside him, a woman shrank back in the passenger seat, sobbing in sheer terror.
"P-please don’t shoot!" the man gasped, his voice cracking with pure panic. "We got lost! The GPS died after we took the mountain bypass... we were just looking for a gas station!"
Walter stepped forward, adjusting his dark coat as he cross-examined the terrified couple, scanning their driver’s licenses and checking the rental car’s registration.
"They’re civilians, Mr. Sterling," Walter confirmed quietly after a moment, turning back to Damian. "Rental vehicles registered to out-of-state tourists. They took a wrong turn at the cell tower."
Damian stood frozen in the middle of the dark road, the cold wind whipping against his face.
The adrenaline surging through his veins suddenly curdled into a hollow, sickening realization. He was chasing ghosts. Vivian was loose, yes, but he was letting the suffocating fear of her revealing the Sterling family secrets turn him into a paranoid madman.
Without a word, Damian turned on his heel, getting back into the rear seat of his SUV. "Back to the estate. Now."
________________________
Ten minutes later, the heavy iron gates of the penthouse residence swung shut behind him.
Damian shed his heavy overcoat in the foyer, moving through the quiet, dimly lit halls with rapid, sharp strides. The heavy silence of the house usually brought him absolute control, but tonight, it felt claustrophobic.
He pushed open the heavy mahogany door to his private bedroom, his eyes immediately darting to the massive king-sized bed.
His heart violently slammed against his ribs, skipping a terrifying beat.
The silk duvet was thrown back. The sheets were cold. The bed was completely empty.
A cold spike of pure, unadulterated terror pierced through his chest.
"Ana!" Damian’s voice echoed sharply through the room, laced with a rare, frantic edge he hadn’t possessed in years.
He didn’t wait. He crossed the room in three long strides, throwing open the door to the adjoining marble bathroom.
The soft, warm light inside illuminated Anastasia. She was standing by the double vanity, her hands dripping with soap and water under the gentle stream of the faucet. She wore one of his oversized black shirts, her dark hair tumbling messily over her shoulders.
She flinched slightly at the sudden intrusion, looking up at him with a surprised, innocent wideness in her dark eyes.
"Damian?" Ana asked softly, turning off the tap as she grabbed a towel. "What’s wrong? Why are you breathing like that..."
She didn’t get to finish her sentence.
Damian closed the distance between them in a split second. Before she could react, his large hand cupped the back of her neck, his fingers tangling into her dark hair as he pulled her flush against his broad chest and crashed his lips onto hers.
It was a desperate, bruising, fiercely possessive kiss... a man drowning in the dark, violently reaching for the only light he had left.
Without breaking the fierce kiss, Damian scooped Ana effortlessly into his arms. Her feet left the cold marble floor as he carried her out of the bathroom, tossing her gently onto the center of the massive king-sized bed.
Before she could sit up, he leaned over her, his large hands sliding beneath the hem of his oversized black shirt that she wore, his palms hot against her bare skin.
Ana’s chest rose and fell rapidly, her eyes wide as she reached up to press her hands against his broad chest. "Damian... what happened out there? Where did you go?"
Damian’s dark eyes burned down into hers, devoid of any warmth, filled only with a raw, dangerous need to anchor her to him.
"I’m setting the mood, Anastasia," his baritone rumbled, low and heavy.
Ana’s brows pulled together in a tight, uneasy frown. She could read the tension in his rigid shoulders, the terrifying, frantic hunger masking something much darker underneath. "We... we agreed back in the kitchen. Not today."
A dark, dangerous smirk tugged at the corner of Damian’s lips. His hands traveled higher under her shirt, his large palms rough as he cupped her bare breasts, squeezing firmly enough to make her gasp and squirm beneath him.
"It’s past midnight, doll," Damian murmured against her jaw, his breath scalding against her skin. "That was yesterday."
Before she could protest, Damian gripped the neck of her shirt, pulling it up over her head... not taking it off completely, but leaving it bunched above her eyes, pinning her wrists securely above her head in the dark fabric.
Ana gasped, rendered completely blind and defenseless, her hands trapped under his firm grip.
Damian’s gaze darkened as his eyes swept over her exposed, porcelain body. Without missing a beat, his free hand gripped the waistband of her silk underwear, yanking it down her thighs and off her slender legs.
"Damian..." Ana winced, her toes curling into the sheets as his long fingers slicked into her warm, sensitive core.
He didn’t rush, his thumb working her clit in slow, rhythmic circles, forcing a soft, helpless whimpering moan from her throat as sensation flooded her body.
Satisfied with her body’s betraying response, Damian pulled his fingers back, stepping back for a fleeting second to strip off his clothes one by one.
His obsidian eyes never left her squirming, blinded form... completely exposed, unable to see, unable to move her hands, utterly submitted to his mercy.
He climbed back onto the bed, settling his broad frame flush between her parted legs. Leaning down until his chest crushed against hers, he breathed heavily against her flushed cheek.
"Say you want me, Anastasia," he growled softly, his lips brushing the curve of her jaw, moving to the corner of her trembling mouth.
His dark gaze fixed on her parted lips, moving in to claim them in a ruthless, definitive claim...
"I can’t, Damian!" Ana blurted out, her voice trembling frantically beneath the fabric covering her face.
Damian froze instantly. His body went rigid, his lips hovering mere millimeters from hers.
"My birth control pills finished yesterday," she whispered, her chest heaving against his. "I don’t have any left."
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