Chapter 79 Carter
“Hello?” Her voice came out softer than she meant it to.
“Tesoro.” His voice wrapped around her through the line, low and familiar. “Did I wake you?”
“No,” she lied gently. “I was… just sitting in the kitchen with Richelle.”
There was a brief pause on his end. He knew. Of course he knew. But he didn’t say anything about the message.
Instead, he asked, “How are you?”
“I’m okay.” She walked slowly toward the window, staring out at the night. “How’s Los Angeles?”
He let out a quiet breath. “Hot. Loud. Smells like gasoline and bad decisions.”
A small laugh slipped out of her. “What time is it there?”
“Almost twelve midnight.”
“That means you should be sleeping,” she said.
“And miss hearing your voice?” he replied softly.
Her fingers tightened around the phone. “Did you eat?”
“Barely.”
“That's not good”
“I had coffee. That counts as food.”
There was a brief pause. Damien leaned back against the headboard of the hotel bed, phone pressed to his ear. He already knew she had seen the message. He could feel it in the careful way she spoke, in how she avoided the words sitting between them.
She hadn’t mentioned it.
And he understood why.
So he didn’t bring it up.
Her heart fluttered. “Did you… did you see Raymond yet?”
The name made his jaw tighten. He kept his voice steady. “Not directly.”
“What happened to him?” she asked, her tone cautious, fragile.
“I arranged things with the police,” Damien said. “They’ll take him in. He won’t be able to come near you again.”
Jasmine exhaled, relief loosening her chest. “So… he’s going to jail?”
“Yes.”
There was a small silence before she asked, quietly, “Did you hurt him?”
Damien closed his eyes for a moment. The image of Raymond shaking in that chair flashed through his mind. The gun. The fear. The power.
“No,” he lied calmly. “I didn’t touch him.”
Jasmine’s shoulders relaxed. “I’m glad.”
He heard the sincerity in her voice and it twisted something inside him. “I would never do anything that would make you afraid of me,” he added softly.
“I know,” she said. “When are you coming back?”
“In a few days.”
“That feels like forever.”
“I know.”
She hesitated. “The house feels too quiet without you.”
His grip on the phone tightened. “I wish I was there. I wish you were in my arms tonight.”
Her breath caught at his words.
“Jasmine,” he said gently, “I don’t expect anything from you. But I need you to know something.”
She went still. “What?”
“I’ll wait for you,” he said. “Until you’re ready to say it back to me.”
Her heart stuttered. “Damien…”
“And until then,” he continued, voice deep and unwavering, “I will remind you every day that I love you.”
She hadn’t been ready for that. The words hit her chest like a soft but powerful wave.
“Damien—”
“I love you, tesoro,” he said again, quieter this time. “Sleep well.”
Before she could answer, the line went dead.
Jasmine stared at her phone, her pulse racing, his last words echoing in her ears.
I love you.
~
The club did not sleep.
It pulsed.
From the outside, it looked like any other forgotten warehouse along the edge of the city—brick walls painted black, windows sealed shut, a single red neon symbol glowing above the entrance like a warning sign. But the moment Damien stepped inside, the world changed.
Sound hit first.
Bass thundered through the floor, vibrating up his spine. Music was thick and heavy, layered with laughter, moans, and the clink of glass. The air smelled of expensive alcohol, sweat, perfume, and something bitter and chemical that burned the back of his throat.
Lights flashed in slow waves of violet and crimson, cutting across bodies that moved without shame.
Half-naked dancers twisted around chrome poles on raised platforms, their skin gleaming under the lights, eyes empty or daring, mouths painted in sharp red smiles.
Bills were tucked into strings and lace. Men crowded around them, shadows with hungry faces, shouting over the music.
Damien hated places like this.
They reminded him too much of the world Dominic ruled. And too much of the world he was trying to leave behind for Jasmine.
Dominic was already inside, waiting near the back. He stood out even here—dark suit, open collar, a glass of whiskey in his hand, utterly calm as chaos unfolded around him.
“You came,” Dominic said when he saw Damien approach. “I told you this was the only place he would feel comfortable meeting.”
Damien glanced around. “Of course he would.”
Dominic smirked. “Power likes places where rules pretend not to exist.”
A man emerged from the shadows beside Dominic. He looked ordinary—mid-forties, average height, brown hair cut short, face unremarkable. He wore jeans, a black jacket, and a plain T-shirt. If Damien hadn’t known better, he would have mistaken him for just another customer.
“This is Chief Mercer,” Dominic said. “He doesn’t exist tonight.”
Mercer extended his hand. “Damien Blackwood.”
Damien shook it. His grip was firm, testing. “Police Chief Mercer,” Damien replied. “Undercover suits you.”
Mercer gave a thin smile. “I blend better when I don’t look like authority.”
Dominic gestured toward a roped-off staircase. “Private area. We talk there.”
They climbed past dancers and drunk patrons, past velvet curtains and guards with earpieces. At the top, the noise dulled slightly but never disappeared. The private section was a raised lounge overlooking the main floor. A curved leather couch wrapped around a low glass table filled with bottles and glowing ice buckets.
Two dancers moved slowly on a platform just a few feet away, bodies swaying in hypnotic rhythm. Their laughter drifted toward the table like smoke.
Damien took a seat opposite Mercer. Dominic sat between them, legs crossed, enjoying himself too much.
Mercer leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Your cousin tells me you have a man you want sealed away.”
“Yes,” Damien said. “Raymond Carter.”
Mercer’s eyes sharpened. “The corporate rat.”
Damien nodded. “He attacked my wife. Tried to destroy my company from inside.”
Mercer exhaled slowly. “And you didn’t kill him.”
A dancer spun upside down on the pole, her hair brushing the floor.
“No,” Damien said. “I want him alive. But gone.”