Chapter 22 A new nemesis: Damein's past.
The thought of Damien's empire being in danger because of our love haunted me like a bad dream.
How could he stand there smiling wholeheartedly at me?
As Ezera walked past him into the house, he didn't even cast a single glance; his gaze was fixed on mine. As I drew closer to him, he stopped smiling, but his eyes somehow still smiled.
The sunlight reflected on his wavy black hair like a mirror, and some strands had a silver-like glow.
“Hey baby,” he said in the softest tone; my heart melted, and my lips pressed together.
As he parted his lips to speak, he suddenly froze, and his brows arched. His hands rested on my shoulders, and he tilted his neck. “Are you alright, my love?”
I nodded and faked a smile. “Why wouldn't I be?”
“Your eyes have lost their spark.”
I blinked. How could he know that by just casting a glance at me, “I'm okay”?
His fingers brushed my cheeks. “Have the happenings in Italy affected your mood, my sweetheart?”
I shook my head; I couldn't tell him that what Ezera said about our love had gotten to me. Knowing Damien, he would probably break her neck in anger.
“The last time I spent in Italy, I picked up a new habit, something that helped me get my mind off things.”
I looked up to meet his gaze. “What habit?”
“He didn't say anything; he simply slid his hand into mine and led me into the nearby garden. We walked past the flowers until we reached a wooden house in the back.
“Where is this?” I asked, and my fingers slowly reached for the door; his hands quickly shot out and grabbed mine. They were warm and soft.
“Don't laugh at me when you see this, please.” His eyes pleaded; he seemed to be more nervous, and now I was even more curious.
“Yes, I won't be,” I said slowly, unsure of my own words.
He reached for the door, and a loud creak echoed as he pulled it open. It was dark, but through the faint light that peered through some holes in the walls, I could see paintings turned around so I could only see the wooden back, and they were lined side by side and stacked against desks. “Give me a moment,” he spoke as he strolled in. He faded into the darkness, and I heard a loud crack as he pulled the wooden window open.
He covered his nose as dust filled the air. Sunlight peered in through the window, casting a bright light across the place. I looked around in awe; there were even more paintings than I had realized.
“Please,” he gestured, “come in.”
I slowly walked in, my boots crunching against the dry sand. “What is this place?”
He clasped his hand behind his back, a proud look on his face as he announced, “I spent a lot of time here the last time I was in Italy and…” He paused as if considering if he should continue or abort. “I took drawing as a hobby.”
My lips parted. Can Damien draw?
“Can I see?”
He nodded and reached for the painting, slowly turning it around for me to see.
My mouth was agape as I gazed at a beautiful painting of a river. There were people on either side of it, a small village with little kids playing in the waters. The place was surrounded by beautiful trees and flowers.
As I gazed at the painting in awe, Damien strolled behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder.
“It's beautiful,” I finally spoke. “It looks like such a peaceful village.”
He gripped me tighter. “Yeah…one day our children are going to look that peaceful when they play.”
My stomach skipped a bit when I heard the word “children.” I slowly turned around and wrapped my arms around his neck. “You have thought about our children?”
His face drew closer to mine. “Every day, Vita Mia, you are my peace. I want a combination of little me and you to run around the house.” He gripped my waist tightly. “But my life is too dangerous; I would kill myself if anything happened to them.” I could feel the pain in his voice as he spoke.
I quickly cupped both sides of his face with my hands. “One day,” I whispered.
A flicker of tears gathered in his green eyes. He nodded. “Yeah…one day,” he whispered back.
My heart melted as I saw his tears. How could people call him the devil when he is so precious?
He tried to turn away from me to hide the tears, but I quickly grabbed onto his shoulders. “Don't do that, please.”
He shut his eyes. “I'm sorry, Charlotte, I don't mean to…” His voice cracked, and he shut his eyes, letting the tears roll down his face.
“No, please, don't be sorry; we will have children some day, I swear.”
His eyes slowly opened. “I know, Vita Mia, but these years are for you. Since you walked into my life, it's been one danger or another, and I hate myself for it. I saw how happy you looked when you saw the painting.”
He sniffed and then continued, “I want life to be like this all the time—no guns, no danger, just peace.”
His words almost made me tear up: “I cannot deny that there's danger, Damien, but this is our life; it's your life, and therefore I love it. I love you.”
Using my thumb, I wiped the tears from his cheeks and leaned in, placing a soft kiss against his cheeks. I slipped my fingers into both his hands. “Which hands have you used to kill?”
He gave me a puzzled gaze. “Both,” he answered anyway.
I pulled his left-hand closer to my lips, and I placed a gentle kiss, and then I moved the other and did the same. “You do not scare me, Damein. Our life doesn't scare me, Damein.”
Ezera's words had slowly begun to fade; I didn't care what she or anyone thought—Damien and I were great for each other.
“Thank you, my love,” he whispered.
I placed a soft kiss on his lips and whispered, “I want to see more paintings.”
His brow raised as I began to move to a few paintings on the left. “No, maybe you should look at these instead.”
I turned around and giggled, “But these are so far away from the rest.”
“Charlotte…don't.”
But it was already too late; I had spun one of the paintings around.
He took a step back and raked his fingers through his hair in frustration.
I gazed at the art before me in awe; it was a man holding a knife. The man stood before another man on the floor. He had so many stab wounds and was in the pool of his own blood. They both had distorted faces, but I could tell the man with the knife was Damein.
I slowly tried to look at him; he looked uneasy. “That was years ago, Charlotte.”
I pushed the painting aside and turned another around; it was a painting of a man tied up to a table and another standing over him as he sawed his body into pieces. The image made me part my lips slightly. “You drew this?”
His breathing grew heavy. “I'm not a madman… I swear.”
“What is this?” My brows knotted together.
“Years ago…” He hesitated, “Years ago when an enemy threatened, I would envision how I wanted him to die…and… I drew it.”
My fingers trembled against the painting. “Did you really saw a man into pieces?”
He swallowed. “Men…three to me exactly.”
“Wow,” I said in awe.
A loud thud echoed throughout the room as Damien fell to his knees and bowed his head. “It was in the past; I don't even paint anymore… I mean, yes, I still kill, but…it's not brutal….”
“Damien? Relax.” I rushed to kneel before him. “Hey…” I pulled his head up to face me. “I know you kill. Why do you apologize all the time? I'm fine with it; they were your enemies. You live in a dog-eat-dog world; if you don't kill, they will do it to you."
I rubbed his shoulder.
“You don't have me?”
I shook my head. “I will always love you, Damien Davenport.” I pressed my lips against his.
~~Chiara’s POV~~
(She is the wife of former and late Mafia boss Richardo, an old nemesis of Damien’s.)
The smell of cigars filled the air as I gazed at a painting of my late husband on the wall of his study.
There was a subtle knock on the door.
I blew out the smoke from my mouth, and the smell of cigars heightened.
“Come in,” I coughed.
The door pulled open, and Luna walked in.
“Boss,” she smiled.
“Why so happy?” I asked as I moved away from the desk I had once sat at and slumped into a chair.
“One of our men just confirmed that Damien would be attending the gala,” Luna announced.
A smirk formed on the corner of my lips. “Call Silvermist,” I instructed.
Silvermist was one of my late husband's most trained warriors. “I need her for my next plan.”
Luna smirked and turned to leave.
My brow suddenly raised, “Oh ... and ask the butler to prepare a dress for me. I have to look good for a good mission."
Luna smirked, “Yes, ma'am.”
I turned to look at Ricardo’s portrait one more time. “The air smells of vengeance, my love,” I smirked.