Damien's Willing Captive

Damien's Willing Captive
Isabella’s POV

Weeks later:

I stood on the balcony of our room, eyes closed, letting the warm evening breeze wash over me like a soft blanket. The air smelled of jasmine from the gardens below. Our home. 

We’d only landed a few hours ago from Texas, jet-lagged but buzzing with that quiet, satisfied glow that comes from too many perfect days in a row.

Jessie’s wedding had been everything. She’d floated down the aisle in that gown…simple silk, flowing like water, hugging her baby bump just enough to make it romantic instead of awkward. 

Kyle Rivera, her husband, stood at the altar looking like he’d personally fight the entire guest list if anyone so much as breathed wrong in her direction. Possessive in the best way. 

Mrs. Salvador sat in the front row, spine straight, lips pursed like she’d sucked a lemon, but for once she kept her opinions to herself. 

If that's not a miracle, I wonder what is.

Though she did try to start something when Jace announced he and Agnes were engaged. 

“I lost Jessie to a cheap marriage,” she’d hissed, “I won’t lose my son and heir to another.” 

Agnes just smiled that terrifyingly sweet smile and said, “Ma’am, with all due respect, the Salvador fortune and your son is in excellent hands.” 

I’m pretty sure she meant the opposite. Good hands? Bad hands? With Agnes, it’s the same thing. She’ll burn the rulebook and build a better empire from the ashes. And whatever she did to shut down Mrs. Salvador’s constant “we owe the Duncans” lectures… Well, Agnes said it was handled. That’s all I needed to hear.

Then there was Anastasia. That girl must have sweet-talked or crawled her way out of whatever gilded cage her father had locked her in, because she showed up at the reception in a dress two sizes too small, marching straight toward Jace like she had a claim. 

“You’re supposed to marry me! You're supposed to be mine. It's no longer Isabella but her friend?!” she’d screeched loud enough for half the room to hear.

Agnes and I exchanged one look…done. I grabbed her arm, Agnes took the other, and we “escorted” her out the side door. 

Agnes “accidentally” spilled an entire tray of champagne down the front of that tacky gown she wore while I whispered every single detail of her false testimony against me…how it almost ruined my life and how I'll make her pay, right in her ear. 

By the time security arrived, Anastasia was sobbing, soaked, mascara running, begging them to let her stay. That she is an heiress and Jace’s true fiancée. They didn’t listen of course. Payback never felt so sweet.

I also ran into Linda and a few old colleagues from the gallery at one of the post-wedding events. 

Caught up over wine, laughed about the old days, and I dropped the bomb… “If any of you ever want a change of scenery, come work for me. My fiancé is opening a gallery in LA. My gallery.” Their jaws hit the floor. Linda swore she will resign next month and move to LA. My jaw still drops when I think about it. He just decided one day that I deserved my own space, my own name on the door. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I remember the visit to my family house shortly before leaving for Texas. Dad sat Damien down, gave him the third degree, then hugged him so hard I thought he'd crack his ribs. 

Official blessings granted and our wedding scheduled for the end of the month…three days before Agnes and Jace take their own oath. Life, for once, felt easy, full and perfect.

Even Alicia crossed my mind for a second…what happened to her after everything? Jail? Rehab? Another rich family to sink her claws into? Or could she be seducing another family member? I hope she’s better. I hope she’s far away. But honestly? I’m done carrying the past. It stays where it belongs…behind me.

I exhaled long and slow, content right down to my bones.

A warm hand settled on my shoulder before long. I didn’t need to open my eyes to know who it was. I smiled anyway.

“Hey, stranger,” Damien murmured, thumb brushing my neck.

“Hey yourself. You should get to work, you know. You dumped everything on Jaxon for two weeks. Ellie called me yesterday complaining she barely sees her fiancé because ‘BELLA’s empire doesn’t run itself.’”

He chuckled low, tugging me up from the chair. Our bodies collided…chest to chest, hips to hips…and he wrapped his arms around my waist like he never planned to let go. “Tired of me already?”

“God, yes,” I said, deadpan. “You were insufferable in Texas. Followed me everywhere like my shadow. Even sat outside the bathroom door like a lost puppy waiting for its owner.”

“I was just testing the waters,” he said, lips grazing my ear. “I haven’t even started. We should buy human glue so we can be forever attached to each other…in fact, we should start sharing the same air henceforth.”

Damien is impossible!

Human glue? Same air? I laughed, bright and helpless. “And how exactly are we supposed to do that?”

His eyes dropped to my mouth. “It starts with a kiss, my love.”

He leaned in, but just then, I slapped a hand over my mouth, made the most dramatic gagging sound I could manage, and bolted for the bathroom, slamming the door just as he reached for the handle.

“Isabella!” he called, knocking. “Open the door. Are you okay? Let me in…I’ll hold your hair, hold your hand, whatever you need.”

I almost laughed mid-retch. My poor possessive caveman.

When it passed, I rinsed my mouth, splashed water on my face. 

Then, on second thought, I opened the cabinet above the sink and pulled out the unopened box I’d stashed there weeks ago. When was my last period? I counted back helplessly. 

Oh. Could it be?

Just then, flashes hit me…sharp cramps, blood, the empty ache of the miscarriage, the nightmares of my stomach splitting open and the baby jumping out.

Oh God.

Can I go through that? I've always been afraid of being pregnant. Should I keep it?

But then I remembered when Damien and I talked about it. Late nights, tangled in sheets, promising each other that if it ever happened again, if we are ever pregnant, we’d face it together. 

We were ready to be parents. I'm ready to be a mother now…because I have Damien.

I peed on the stick and waited.

Two lines.

“I’m pregnant,” I whispered to myself.

Damien was still outside, voice cracking now. “Bella, please. Should I call the Agnes? A priest? What do you want me to do? You know what? I’m getting the doctor now.”

I opened the door, clutching the test. “We’re pregnant.”

“What?”

“I said we’re pregnant!” I screamed, laughing and crying at once.

Thud.

I looked down. Damien was flat on his back on the marble, eyes closed, out cold.

I rolled my eyes, grinning, and lowered myself to the floor beside him. “I guess people really do faint when they hear news like this.”

A minute later he stirred, sitting up slowly, eyes wide and shining. He pulled me into a crushing hug, arms trembling around me.

“Oh my God, baby… I’m going to be a daddy?” he whispered against my hair, voice thick.

“You’re already a daddy,” I teased, poking his chest. “My daddy.”

He laughed…wet, disbelieving, joyful…and lifted me onto his lap right there on the bathroom floor. “I am, aren’t I?” He cupped my face, eyes searching mine like he couldn’t believe this was real. “Thank you, baby. Thank you for letting me have you,” he whispered and crashed his lips on mine.

He pulled away shortly after as we both gasped, smiling like we just conquered the whole world. “Let’s get married this evening, my love. Right here. Just us. I don’t want to wait another day to make you mine officially.”

I laughed, tears spilling over, happiness bursting out of every seam. “Yes. A thousand times yes.”

He kissed me then…soft, reverent, like I was the most precious thing in his world. Which, I realized, I was.

Once upon a time, I was Damien’s captive, but now? I’m his willing partner. His love, his home and soon, the mother of his child.

Life didn’t just get better.

It became everything.

The End