Ashes Of Desire

Ashes Of Desire
POV: Isla

The morning light streamed through the curtains as my eyes fluttered open, but all it did was cause more regret than I already felt. I didn’t want to remember the memories of last night.

But it still clawed its way into every part of my brain. The shameless way I moaned out his name while he claimed me like he owned every part of my body.

What were you thinking last night Isla!

I curled into the sheets, dragging them to cover my naked body with a wish that they could erase the feel of his body, the way he’d burned me alive last night.

God, I should have stopped him, the kiss was only meant to distract him from the truth, not get him to have sex with me. And for one fleeting second, I’d let myself believe that maybe what happened between us last night was real.

I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to extinguish my shame, but it was useless. The sound of footsteps drifted me off my thoughts. I flinched, my heart racing as Damian's bedroom door swung open.

He stepped inside, looking calm and calculated as though what happened between us last night meant nothing to him. His eyes found mine immediately, unreadable but heavy. For a second—

My stupid heart tried to believe that last night had meant something to him too. Maybe, beneath his coldness and cruelty, he was finally falling in love with me.

“Whatever you’re thinking about last night, “ his voice cut through like a blade, “stop.”

The air left my lungs instantly. My lips parted slightly, but no sound came out. He walked closer, his body towering over the bed, “Last night meant nothing to me…”

“…..so don’t mistake it for more than it was.”

The sheets twisted in my tight grip with my nails biting into my palms. “You can’t mean that,” the words left my mouth before I could stop them.

His jaw tightened, a thin line of smirk curling at the corner of his lips. “I can. And I do. Don’t fall in love with me, Isla. Because I won’t save you if you do.”

“Why?” I shot back, tears threatening to spill but I forced them in. “Why mark me? Why even have this fake marriage in the first place if it’s not about love?”

His silence was worse than any answer, he just stood there staring at me as though all I did was bluff. And for the first time, I saw it—a flicker of something like guilt. “Because you’re tied to a part of my past you’ll never forgive me for”

The words hit me like a blade, quiet but brutal. He was right about one thing, I would never forgive him for what he did to my father. All I’m doing right now is acting as the little naive Isla who knows nothing.

While he fell for it like a damn fool. The almighty Damian Cross would surely be destroyed by me. A promise I planned on keeping. Without another glance at me, he turned and walked away.

I dragged myself out of bed, forcing my trembling legs to move, because if I stayed for even one second, I’d drown. My reflection in the mirror mocked me—hair tangled, my swollen lips from his brutal kisses.

I hated myself for it.



By the time I stumbled down the stairs, my chest was still raw from the pain of his words, but I buried it deep enough to keep my pretence again. The goal was to fake it long enough.

And then—

I saw her standing there.

Selene.

She was standing in Damian’s kitchen like it belonged to her, wearing a sexy silk dress that clung to every curve of her body. A spatula in one hand, flipping eggs like some domestic housewife.

And Damian was seated at the dining table. He watched her with an unreadable expression in his eyes. 

What the fuck was this bitch doing here again?

I froze on the stairs, nails digging into my palms so hard they nearly fell off. Her hand brushed his shoulder as though it had happened a hundred times before. 

My fury roared to life, burning hotter than the shame I felt earlier. I  wanted to rip her perfect little dress off her body and smash the spatula into her ugly face.

But I couldn’t do it.

Or I would be seen as the jealous fake wife fighting for a man who didn’t see me as anything.

“Good morning, Isla?” Selene turned to face me, her eyes flickering over me in one slow, calculating look. The same sly and cruel smirk I had seen on her lips that night. 

I stepped down the last few stairs, trying to control the anger that was coursing through my veins. “I hope you don’t mind, but Damian and I were just catching up,” she continued.

Her manicured hands lingered on Damian’s shoulders a bit too long it should. I swallowed the scream clawing at my throat. “Of course not,” I said, my voice sounding as though it wasn’t a problem.

Damian’s gaze met mine, a flicker of something I didn’t have the time to figure out. But I felt it—the weight of his watchful silence.

Selene’s smirk deepened. She knew that doing this was a way of messing with me, trying to claim her territory as she promised she would do. 

“How thoughtful of you to make breakfast,”  waking to the table to sit across from them as I poured myself coffee, taking a slow sip before speaking again. “Though you didn’t have to. I take care of my husband just fine.”

“Oh, I don’t mind.” She shot back, leaning closer to Damian again. “I’ve been taking care of him before your fake contract marriage.”

My heart pounded, fury trying to force its way out. But this wasn't the time to break in front of this bitch again, it was the time to play her games even better than her.

So I raised my cup in a mock toast, my voice coming out calm, as though a silent declaration of war. “Then I suppose we’ll see who does it better.”