–Livana–
He's so into me—even with the smallest sweet talks and gentle gestures, like the way he initiates a kiss.
Our legs are tangled together on the thin sheet we share. I know it's morning. I can feel the slight warmth of the sun, probably sneaking in from the open window.
"Good morning, my Goddess," he murmurs, his deep baritone voice vibrating against my lips as he kisses me.
"Good morning," I reply softly. I don't usually offer greetings, but little things like that make him lose his mind.
I rub my hand slowly over his chest and lean into him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart under my palm.
"You're oddly sweet this morning... clinging to me like a cat," he teases, brushing his nose against my cheek.
"A black cat, you might say," I quip, letting a small smile play on my lips.
He chuckles, a low, rich sound that I can feel in my bones.
"Yes, my black cat with an attitude," he says, amused.
"What day is it?" I ask, trailing my fingers lazily along his ribs.
"April fifteenth, I think. It's already a scorching summer here—and even hotter back in the Philippines," he replies.
I hear the faint buzz of his phone vibrating on the nightstand.
Last night, during the marital act he insisted we perform, I kept hearing it buzz, too—though his loud groans drowned everything else out. I lost my focus for a moment, but he quickly pulled me back to him.
In a way, I'm starting to enjoy this strange relationship.
He's easy to manipulate, easy to lead.
When I asked about the calls, he said casually, "Just the ex-fiancée my family tried to arrange me with."
Then he continued as if nothing mattered but me.
The thought that he cares for no one else makes it easier to weave my plans for revenge.
"I need to put medicine in your eyes," he says, voice close.
"Carry me to the bathroom. I need to wash up," I command lightly.
"Yes, my Goddess."
He pulls the sheet away from my body and lifts me effortlessly.
I trail my fingertips across the muscles of his back, tracing the hard lines just to tease him. I know exactly what it does to him. I can almost feel the way it electrifies him.
He helps me wash up, his hands careful and methodical. I go through my usual skincare routine, the familiar scents of creams and lotions grounding me.
He finishes by gently applying the cooling medicine to my eyes, and I sigh at the soothing sensation.
"Before we head home," he says, his voice vibrating near my ear, "we'll make a little detour. The doctor I told you about—he'll check your eyes and maybe schedule surgery if needed."
I nod with a soft hum.
"Now, let's get you dressed for today," he adds.
I suppress a scoff.
He must love dressing me up like some delicate doll.
He lathers sunscreen over my skin with slow, reverent strokes, then brushes my hair with practiced hands.
There's a strange déjà vu in his touch—as if he's preparing me the way a man might prepare his beloved every morning before leaving for work.
I wonder… would he?
Letting him do all this boosts his pride and joy.
Good.
The higher he climbs, the harder his fall will be when I leave him broken and bleeding dry.
I lift my hand to find his face, and he catches it, guiding my fingers to his cheek.
Instinctively, I lean in and press my forehead against his, feeling the warmth and firmness of him.
I slide my hand down to the curve of his neck, holding him tightly.
I can feel his smirk even without seeing it.
"Do you want something, my Goddess?" he asks, voice teasing, vibrating warmly against my skin.
"Nothing much."
I lift my other hand, patting the top of his head lightly.
"I'm craving something… mango cream cheese, maybe. I'm not exactly sure. Something mango and creamy."
"Your wish," he says, voice rich with amusement, "is my command."
I let him go and listened carefully as his footsteps receded. I stood alone, my fingers tracing the carpet he had laid out for me. Each woven thread told a different story: one led to the bed, another to the balcony, one to the bathroom, another to the closet. A certain intricate pattern would guide me to the door.
"Damon?" I called out softly, but the silence answered me.
I moved toward the bed, fingertips brushing along the way until I found the nightstand. My walking stick was folded there. I opened the drawer, feeling for my phone — but it wasn't there. Frowning, I unfolded my stick and found the doorway through the subtle shifts in the carpet beneath my bare feet. I squeezed the doorknob and pushed it open, cautious.
"Where are you going?" Damon's voice — low, suspicious — slid through the space like a blade.
So he hadn't left. I smiled faintly, amused at the thought that he worried I might slip away from him. If he only knew how tightly the leash already wound around both our throats.
"I'm looking for Laura," I said.
"I'll take you to her," Damon murmured as he found my arm, his fingers deliberate, lingering. I folded my stick as he led me forward.
We stopped abruptly. From behind a door, Laura's voice rang out, thick with amusement.
"You better not stop!" she barked at someone.
"You're different from her," Damon whispered against my ear, his breath hot. "But when it comes to the bed... you're not that different after all."
"Who is she fucking?" I asked, my voice cool.
He chuckled darkly. "Oh, hey guys," Kai's voice cut in from the room. Followed by Damien's too-cheerful greeting.
My brows drew together.
"Yes!" Laura cried in victory. "I fucking win this time, Damien. Suck it up, loser!"
"FUCK! That's one fucking million!"
I tilted my head, confused.
"Describe it to me," I demanded.
"The three of them are tangled in bed," Damon said in a drawl. "Laura's in nothing but her underwear. Kai and Damien are topless."
I stiffened. "They're playing video games, aren't they."
"Mm. Video games," Damon confirmed with mock solemnity.
"What kind? Sex simulations?" I asked icily.
"Hey, sis!" Laura shouted. "It's not sex sims, okay? We were just waiting for breakfast, and Kai's room is cold as hell."
"You sound guilty," I murmured.
"I haven't even gotten laid but my toys, so stop with the judgment!" Laura snapped.
"Laura definitely needs to get laid," Damien quipped — only to be smacked, the sound sharp and satisfying.
I shook my head and sighed.
"Where's my phone, Laura?"
"With Damon," she answered much too quickly.
I heard her steps approaching. "Did you seriously hide my sister's phone?" she asked.
"I need my phone, Damon. I have business to settle."
"Of course." His voice was too easy, too agreeable. "Wait here."
Something prickled under my skin — a slow, creeping suspicion. Damon was playing a game. And somehow, despite all my attempts to manipulate him, he was staying two steps ahead.
"Do you want to join us?" Kai offered, his tone bright.
"I'm blind, Kai."
"That's not a reason to back down!" he insisted.
"She doesn't need to waste time on that," Damon cut in smoothly, reappearing. He pressed my phone into my hand, his fingers sliding around my waist like a vice. "Come, baby. I'll take you somewhere better."
He lifted me easily into his arms, carrying me through the halls like some spoilt princess — or a willing captive. It took longer than expected until I felt the plush give of a sofa beneath me. Then a movie began to play, one with an audio description that filled my ears with dark, sultry images. It wasn't pornography — not exactly. But it was damn close. The slow burn of romance, dangerous liaisons, whispered sins.
I almost laughed. If Damon wanted to seduce me, he didn't need a movie.
"Are we alone, Damon?" I asked.
"Yes," he said — and I could hear his grin.
"Why? You want to act out the movie already?"
"No." I paused, letting my voice trail into a pout. "I just want to be left alone. You can go do your business. And tell the chef I'm starving."
His laugh was low and indulgent. "Certainly, my love."
I waited until I heard his retreating steps before lifting my phone close. "Open emails," I commanded.
"Opening emails. You have one hundred and three unread messages," the AI responded smoothly.
"Read them."
The voices blurred in my ear until Damon returned, lounging beside me. I stopped the reading.
"I already spoke to my men," he said casually. "They're ready. I also secured a set of diamonds for you."
"I don't need diamonds," I said flatly.
"They'd look better on your naked skin anyway," he purred. "You can wear them to bed."
I sipped the warm water he handed me, tasting the faint metallic tang of the cup.
"Thank you," I murmured.
He toyed with my hair, his sigh raking against my scalp like a caress.
"So you still want to live in that house — the one where your fiancé and cousin fucked like rabbits?" he said, half-teasing, half-vicious.
"That's the place I know," I replied simply.
"Then maybe I'll build you a replica."
"It'll never be the same."
A pause. Then his voice turned almost gleeful. "I'll set a date soon... for you to meet my family. I can't wait to see the horror written across their faces."
He laughed like a wolf. And I let him.
The movie's heavy breathing filled the background when suddenly he set the cup down and pinned me against the sofa.
"I know you'll give me your body, Livana," he whispered, voice thick. "So why not here? Now?"
"Someone might see us..." I breathed, feigning innocence — the way he liked.
"Who cares?"
Right. Who cared, when every moment with Damon tasted like danger... and freedom.