Chapter 43 A new threat
Damien instantly pushed her off him, his gaze immediately moved to meet mine, “This means nothing, I swear.”
The girl's gaze turned to meet mine, her grey eyes narrowed. “Who is this?”
“I'm his wife,” I said in anger.
I didn't know I could feel this jealous, but watching Damien get kissed by another woman struck a nerve.
She scoffed. As she reached into the purse around her neck, she brought out a piece of gum,unwrapped a piece of it and tossed it into her mouth. She seemed to be around the same age as me but with a small figure. “His wife? I find that hard to believe; Damien would tell me if he was getting married.”
Damien quickly moved to my side. “Charlotte is my wife, Becky.”
She suddenly stopped chewing, and her eyes darted at me. “What? This must be some faux marriage; why didn't you ask me?” She stomped her feet against the ground like a whiny child. “We made a great pair the last time we pretended to be married for a mission. Why didn't you ask me?”
I looked up at Damien, my eyes searching for an explanation.
“Becky is an old friend; she helped me years ago to succeed in a mission by pretending to be my wife, only for two weeks.”
“Then why did she kiss you?” My heart felt like it would rip apart.
Becky's loud laughter filled the air. “She cannot possibly believe that she's your real wife, does she?” She pointed at me, and then her head turned to face me. “I don't know why he married you, but it's definitely to settle mafia business.”
I swallowed; she was right, and I hated it. “That is true, but we fell in love…”
She burst into loud laughter, cutting my words short. “I have never seen a more delusional bitch!”
“Becky!” Damien thundered.
Her laughter faded, and she gave him a shocked look.
“I married Charlotte for mafia business, yes, but I love her, so do not ever speak to her in that manner again,” his voice dropped low and dangerously. “She's my wife, and your queen.”
“But…we are meant to be; how can you say that?” Her voice shook; she wasn't sad, she was angry.
“The two of us will never be anything.” He drew closer to her, his hand grabbed her chin aggressively, “And that kiss? “Make sure it never happens again.” His grip got tighter on her chin, and her face twisted in pain.
“Y…you are hurting me.” She grabbed his hand.
His hand moved slightly, and I noticed the imprint of his hand on her face. “Damien, you are hurting her,” I interfered.
“Isn’t that the point?” He growled.
“Damien!” I quickly moved to him and placed my hand on his shoulder. His hand slowly moved away from her, and he turned to face me.
He grabbed my hand and began to walk upstairs.
I looked back at Becky as Damien dragged me upstairs; her eyes were clouded with tears, and her gaze blazed with anger.
A few seconds later Damien pulled me into the bedroom and shut the door behind us. He paced around the room; his breath grew heavy each second. “Charlotte, I swear you are not just a project.”
“I know, Damien.”
He marched to me and wrapped his hand around my waist. “I love you.”
“I know.”
“My feelings are real.”
“Damien, I don't care about what she said…it's what she did.”
“The kiss meant nothing, I swear.”
“But that's not enough…she still missed you. Why didn't you push her off?”
“I didn't see it coming.” He dropped to his knees and looked up at me. “I would never kiss another woman instead of you. I didn't mean for it to happen. I swear.”
I pouted.
“Becky used to be around me all the time; I explained earlier I needed her for a mission.” The chandelier that hung onto the ceiling shone a bright light on his face; his intense expression made me tremble. He had never been this serious about anything.
“Is that why she acted as if you both were dating?” I raised an eyebrow.
He bowed his head. “Hit me, if it will make you feel better.”
“I don't want to hit you, Damien.”
He looked up at me, and before I knew what was happening, he landed a hard slap across his own cheek. His gaze was so fixed on mine as he landed another, and another, and another.
“Damien, stop!” I shouted; the slap was hurting me more than it was hurting him.
I knelt before him; his face had turned red, and his eyes teared up. I raked my hand through his wavy black hair. “Damien, I don't want you to hurt yourself for me.” He blinked, and the tears dropped. I reached for his face and wiped it off.
I pressed my forehead against his. “I'm sorry I let her make me jealous.”
He cupped my face in his hands. “There's never a competition, Charlotte; it's you, every day.”
I wrapped him up in my arms, and he placed his head on my shoulder and sobbed.
“Can you stop crying?”
“No…” his voice rasped, “I hate seeing you mad at me.”
“I'm not… I swear I'm not mad anymore.” I patted him.
THREE HOURS LATER
Damien wouldn't stop apologizing for the kiss.
So to get it off his mind, I suggested that we go shopping; it was more fun than I had imagined it.
We had gone to one of his many boutiques in the city; the place had the most beautiful dresses.
Hundreds of dresses I had picked out lay on the couch beside me in the changing room. The chandelier on the ceiling cast a bright light across the room, allowing me to see myself in the mirror.
Damien had ordered that the two of us be left alone, and the boutique workers had left us alone. Damien sat on one of the chairs; he was dressed in a white button-up shirt and a pair of black pants, and he had a smirk on his lips as he watched me struggle to zip up the dress I was trying on.
“You can ask for my help, you know that, right?”
“I told you, I don't need help,” I said.
He pushed his hips forward. “Here, here.”
I struggled to zip it up; it went up halfway, but it got stuck. I sighed and walked towards him. “I didn't want to bother you.”
“You are never a bother.” He reached for me, his hands wrapped around my waist as he pulled me to sit on top of him.
My eyes widened as I felt his dick pushing against me. “You are hard,” I said mockingly.
I felt his breath on my back. “I'm alone with a beautiful woman; can you blame me?”
I smiled, but my smile faded as I felt him pull down the zipper. “Damien…” I groaned.
“Forgive me, Vita mia.” He placed a kiss on my back. “I just cannot resist.”
He pushed the dress off my shoulder and let it drop to my waist; his hands squeezed my breasts, and his lips returned to my skin.
“We can't sleep together here, Damien; it's a boutique.”
“Fuck it,” he whispered against my skin. “It's my building; I'll fuck you wherever I want.” He began to lift up my dress, and his fingers slowly lifted my dress, and his hands traced my thighs.
My head flung back, and I held my breath as I felt his hand on my core.