Chapter 140 140
Jacqueline drew in a silent breath, her lungs barely moving as her gaze swept the room in urgent calculation. She searched for anything anything at all that could serve as a weapon.
Her pulse thundered in her ears.
She had already decided what he was: a burglar. An intruder. Danger.
Her body reacted before her mind could catch up, slipping instinctively into that razor-thin space between fight and flight.
Screaming for Damien tempted her. The urge burned at the back of her throat.
But one look at the man’s towering frame told her the truth he would crush her before her scream ever finished leaving her mouth.
“My, my… what a sight in this ugly place.”
The deep, husky voice slid across the room, and her eyes snapped upward, colliding with a pair of jade-green ones. Cold. Sharp. Predatory.
He was facing her fully now, leaning back against the kitchen slab with lazy confidence, as though he owned the air she was breathing.
For a fraction of a second, she was caught off guard.
He looked like Damien.
Not just similar no. He was nearly a replica.
The same height. The same broad, imposing build. Massive. Commanding.
But where Damien’s eyes were olive green, this man’s were jade harder somehow, carrying a cruel glint that sent a chill down her spine. A tribal tattoo curled from the left side of his neck and disappeared beneath the collar of his fitted grey T-shirt, the fabric clinging to his muscular frame like a second skin.
Her eyes dropped briefly to his left hand.
W. I. L. D.
The word was inked across his knuckles.
Jet-black hair, just like Damien’s. Similar features. But this one was clean-shaven, his sharp jawline fully exposed. Silver rings gleamed on the same tattooed hand.
Ah.
So that was it.
No wonder that Noël fellow worked for him.
She rolled her eyes internally.
They really thought they could fool her by claiming he was a vampire? Please. Dorks.
They should know better. She was exceptional at pranks. No one fooled her. Ever.
Where Damien carried the air of a dangerous man barely restraining a gentleman beneath the surface, this one radiated something different. A gangster’s ease. Effortless swagger. And when he flashed her a charming smile, she knew instantly this man didn’t need to try very hard to make women fall for him.
“Dominique?” she asked, deliberately nonchalant as she crossed her arms over her chest.
The resemblance between the brothers was uncanny. She couldn’t help wondering which one was older.
His thick brows lifted, nearly disappearing into his unruly hair. He looked genuinely surprised.
“I know I’m famous,” he drawled, “but I didn’t realize I was that famous.”
Cocky.
“You must be Jacqueline?” he mused, studying her openly. She noticed, with reluctant appreciation, that his gaze never once dropped to inspect her body.
“I know I am famous,” she replied lightly, arching a brow as she leaned back against the wall.
Pain flared the moment her back touched it, but she swallowed the wince before it could show.
Dominique chuckled, shaking his head, dark hair brushing across his forehead.
“I like you already,” he said, tone playful.
Despite herself, she smiled.
The difference between the brothers was stark. Damien was brooding. Grumpy. Cold as winter steel.
Dominique, on the other hand, felt easy. Charming. Warm in a dangerous sort of way.
“I can’t say the same,” Jacqueline replied airily, pretending to inspect imaginary dirt beneath her nails. “I’m hard to impress.”
It felt… nice.
Normal.
Talking like this bantering, teasing she almost felt like herself again. Whole. Unbroken.
With Dominique, she felt steady.
With Damien
Everything changed.
Her heart would race. Words would tangle on her tongue. She’d become a complete, babbling mess.
“Ah,” Dominique sighed dramatically. “Sad you’re his girl.”
Her brows knitted in confusion just as heavy footsteps approached from her right.
And there it was again.
That small, traitorous flutter in her chest when her eyes met olive green.
Damien looked like he had just rolled out of bed hair wild, jaw tense, presence overwhelming.
He came to stand beside her, his gaze fixed on his brother.
“Dominique.”
The greeting was curt, accompanied by the slightest flick of his chin.
His deep baritone wrapped around her senses, doing something entirely inappropriate to her stomach. She felt giddy just standing near him.
The perks of crushing on a man who clearly had no interest in you.
She didn’t hold a grudge against him not for the names he’d called her, nor for the barbaric way he’d treated her at first. Beneath his aggression, she had noticed something shift after that elevator incident. He had believed she was a good girl. The reality had shocked him.
He had even asked her about it.
But she had let him believe what he thought he saw.
Why?
Maybe because she knew he couldn’t help her.
And she didn’t want his pity.
After that, she had expected him to leave her alone.
Instead, he did the opposite.
He sought her out. Confronted her. Threw sharp words her way every chance he got. The last time, he had terrified her his tone, his actions. Even remembering it sent goosebumps skittering down her arms.
Still… she had forgiven him.
He had apologized.
He had come to save her.
She had perfected her façade over the years, but somehow he had seen through it. Something must have felt wrong to him that was the only explanation for why he showed up at Julien’s house.
And then he saw it.
With his own eyes.
She was just grateful he had walked in on the beating… and not something worse.
“She’s not my girl,” Damien said flatly.
“Yeah,” Jacqueline shot back, turning to Dominique. “Who could tolerate this grumpy man?”
Dominique smirked at her.
She found herself wondering, absurdly, how Damien would look if he smirked like that.
“Absolutely,” Dominique agreed, punctuating it with a wink.
“We need to talk,” Damien growled, his voice low and edged with warning.
Dominique only smirked wider before pushing off the slab and following him.
Jacqueline stood there for a few awkward seconds after they disappeared, her mind racing.
The last she remembered, Dominique had sent Noël to kidnap Damien.
And now he was here in person.
Was it because of her?
She turned and made her way back to the spare room where Mathieu was sleeping. Opening the door quietly, she stepped inside
and froze.
Mathieu was sitting upright in bed, wide awake, staring at her with wide, bewildered eyes.
Confused.
Shocked.
Utterly baffled.
She blinked.
Then, without missing a beat, she placed a hand dramatically over her heart.
“You know,” she began solemnly, “I learned a magic spell last night. I tried it on us… and guess what? We’ve been teleported.”
She gave him a small flourish of her hand.
“Voilà.”