21. Damien

I'm surprised with myself. Not that I've ever struggled keeping a submissive, but I've constantly struggled maintaining an interest in a woman. Not with Mila. She does the opposite to me. As fucking cliche as it is to admit, she's like a drug I can't get enough of. The best kind. The kind where you don't care if it's destructive, if it tears your fucking world apart and leaves ash. A taste you'd die for.

The paperwork in front of me has morphed together. I can't get my eyes to focus because every marked black letter shimmers and my mind forms the images of Mila in my playroom at the club. Bound, pulsating, wet for me.

My cock strains against my pants beneath my desk and I'm once again tied back to reality. I'm in my office, and Mila's here. Only she's on break and I can't fucking concentrate. I welcome the knock on my door, clearing my throat, shifting to relieve some pressure on my dick, and bark for whomever to enter.

Kassandra waltzes inside, a firm, motherly expression on her face. Oh shit. Another fucking lecture like I'm not a grown man. Her frown wrinkles the area between her brows, creating a mass of freckles just above her nose line.

"Damien, I know about you and Mila."

That'd be my fault considering I don't give a shit about subtlety. It's not a surprise she's caught on. I only feel bad for Mila because we all know how highly of me Kass thinks regarding women.

Setting down the pen in my hand, I hold up my hands and sigh. "Look, Kass, I'm not about to listen to the same fucking lecture over and over again."

Kass shrugs in defeat, before pointing a finger at me. "That's fine, Damien. I'm not your damn mother, but know, if you fucking hurt her, I swear to god -"

"For once, why don't you let your friends be adults. Mila's a woman that knows exactly how to take care of herself. I don't need you here every time I want to get my dick wet."

Kass places a hand on her hip and seethes with venom. "So that's what you're doing, just getting your dick wet? It is my fucking business if it messes up the business I've built!" She booms, a menacing glare aimed at me. I snicker, running my tongue quickly along my bottom lip, stunned by her words.

"The company that you built? If I fucking remember correctly my blood, sweat, and tears are embedded in the fucking foundation also."

She waves her hands dramatically and clucks her tongue. "Oh so that means you can just run it into the ground. You haven't been on top of things for months, Damien, fucking months. More worried about your next lay than your next client. You can't keep a secretary. I'm drowning trying to keep you afloat and I've had enough of the bullshit, Damien. Enough of it." She runs a shaky hand through her red locks, as her chest heaves with rapid breaths.

I swipe my hand across my forehead, feeling new drops of sweat form like dew on my skin. The problem is, she's fucking right. These past few months I've been... lost. Drowning in a sea of drinks and pussy. Angry. I haven't given half the shit about the company that Kassandra has, but I haven't been man enough to face it.

"Look," I begin, a softer tone to my words. I relax my gaze, and loosen my fist to set my palm down on the desk. "Things have been shitty. I've been shitty, but I'm not just going to take my destructive behavior and channel it into Mila. That's not what this is about. Alright?"

The sincerity in my voice surprises us both, and I find her face relaxing. "Look, I get it, you two are having sex, and I'm not trying to tell you both what to do, it's just I don't want this company to suffer any longer. I need your head in the game."

"You've got me."

A knock on my door, catches my attention. I leer past Kass, and confusion takes over my face as a man enters the room. Kass sidesteps out of his way as he halts a few feet before my desk. Long, stringy, brown locks sit unkempt atop his head, framing a long oval face. With Squeamish washed out, pale hazel eyes he levels his gaze with me. His trench coat reaches below his knees, as he clutches a yellow envelope in his grasp.

"Damien Sinclair?" His deep voice grits out. With subtle movement, I reach for my left drawer and slide it open, resting my hand on the pistol sitting idly.

"Who's asking?"

The man clears his throat, the sound of phlegm loosening twists my expression into disgust. He urges again, "are you Damien Sinclair?"

"Yes? Who the fuck is asking?" Despite my lack of manners, the man's stoic exterior doesn't waver. He moves, arms coming around his body, and I tighten my hand around the gun, ready to draw it before he offers me the folder in his hand. I frown, glancing down at it, and back up at him.

He pushes it towards me, until I accept out of pure annoyance, swiping the envelope from him and snapping a frigid glare his way.

"You've been served."

You've got to be fucking kidding me. He spins, lurching toward the door before hacking up another spew of mucus and leaving the room. Kassandra's horrified expression, heightens the stress that threatens to eject my heart from my throat.

I tear open the envelope, swiftly freeing the papers within it, and scanning my eyes over the words.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" I choke out with disbelief. "That fucking cunt is suing me...."

I don't like to refer to woman like that. Hell, the only time I'm uttering that word is if "your sweet" is in front of it, but Tatianna has gone way too fucking far. Kass floats towards my desk, pressing her hands down on the oak, she twists her neck while trying to get a peak at what's in my hands.

"What's going on? Who's suing you? Damien!" She snaps when I don't answer her right away. I'm too busy soaking in the bullshit claim Tatiana has made.

"She's saying I wrongfully terminated her employment due to a sexual affair and that we owe her a years worth of salary."

Kass sighs and runs a hand down her face. "Well you've done it again."

"What the fucks that mean?"

"Do you not see what you bring around here? You have no self control and now it's fucking backfiring. At least she's only asking for a years fucking salary instead of a giant settlement, Damien!"

I think it's best to keep that part out. She's not just claiming we owe her a salary, she's going for a much larger figure. I hold up my finger, gesturing for Kass to be quiet as I dial Tatiana's number. When it goes to voicemail, I curse, and bark for Kass to get the hell out of my office. She flips me off and leaves.

I call again. Voicemail.

A third time. Voicemail.

Voicemail. Fucking voicemail. Until finally I leave a message, unable to contain the rage steaming in my words.

"You don't get what you want, so you try to fucking sue me? We both know these are bullshit claims, Tatiana. They won't hold up in court. I'm not going to let you bankrupt my company. Mark my fucking words."

I slam the phone down, crushing my cellphone, watching disinterestedly as pieces of glass shatter and fly across the desk, some depositing onto the floor.

I glance up, eyes connecting with Mila's as she stands in the doorway to my office. I wasn't aware she had returned from lunch. Her eyes observe the shattered cellphone and my tensed stature, before she frowns.

"Is everything okay?"

Careful not to bark out something malicious or sarcastic, I bite my lip, taking a deep, shaky breath while closing my eyes to steady myself.

Splaying my fingers on my desk, I speak. "Can you just get me a new phone?"

She's quiet momentarily. I can tell by her expression she's indecisive whether to press more but I'm thankful when she nods her head and begins to turn to leave.

"Mila."

"Hm?" She halts, head twisted slightly as her back faces me.

"Playroom, tonight at seven." My mouth waters when a watch a shiver roll through her shoulders and down her body, before she nods curtly and leaves me plagued with my own thoughts.

Tatiana is hurt. She's angry, hurt and frankly, embarrassed and now she's going to try and hit me where it counts. The only thing I've truly loved for all these years, and she wants to destroy it. The same way I destroyed her I suppose. Except, she signed on for the destruction, willed it away with illusions that I'd fall for her, or she'd change me or whatever the fuck she had to convince herself to spread her thighs and offer her pussy to me like I owned the damn thing. She'd even taken pleasure in the ways I'd commanded her body to heal with my touch.

Slamming a fist down onto the paper, I rise from my seat. I'm not going to let her go through with this.