Chapter 93 *
Damon's POV
I stood outside her apartment door. My hands were in my pockets. My jaw was clenched so tight I thought my teeth would crack.
Five days.
Five fucking days of searching for this woman.
She'd vanished from the hospital like smoke. Blocked every number I had. Every contact. Every way to reach her.
I'd mobilized everyone. My security team. Even called in favors with people I hated owing favors to.
Checked every property under her name. Every address connected to the Romano family. Every place she'd ever mentioned.
Nothing.
Then finally, this morning, one of my guys spotted her going into this building.
And here I was. Ready to drag my wife home.
The door swung open.
She froze when she saw me.
Her eyes went wide. Her face went pale. "What are you doing here?" Her voice came out small.
I stepped forward. She stepped back.
"What am I doing here?" I repeated. My voice was calm. "That's a funny question."
I walked into the apartment. She backed up further.
"Let me ask you something, Scarlett." I closed the door behind me. "Do you understand what Mrs. Wolfe means?"
She opened her mouth. Nothing came out.
"It means you're my wife." I took another step. "My. Wife."
"Damon, I told you at the hospitalâ€""
"What kind of wife just disappears?" I cut her off. "Blocks her husband's number? Hides in some shithole apartment and demands a divorce?"
Her chin lifted. That stubborn look I knew too well.
"We got married for the baby." Her voice was steady now. "There's no baby. So there's no reason to stay married."
I stared at her.
This woman. This fucking woman.
"Is that what you think?" I asked. "Marriage is just a contract? A business transaction?"
"Yes." She crossed her arms. "That's exactly what it is. We entered into a contractual obligation based on specific circumstances. Those circumstances no longer exist. Therefore, the contract should be dissolved."
My brain short-circuited.
She was using contract law. On our marriage.
"You can't be serious right now."
"I'm completely serious." She walked over to her table. Grabbed a notebook. Started flipping through pages. "According to legal precedent, marriages entered into under false pretenses can be annulled. We thought I was pregnant. I wasn't. That's false pretense."
I just stood there.
Staring at her.
She'd actually researched this. Written notes. Built a legal argument.
For why we should get divorced.
The anger drained out of me. Just... disappeared.
Replaced by something else. Something worse.
Exhaustion.
She was twenty-two years old. She'd grown up in the system. Learned to see everything as temporary. Everything as transactional.
Of course she thought marriage worked like this.
"Pack your things." My voice came out flat. "You're coming home."
"No." She shook her head. "If we're getting divorced, it doesn't make sense for me to live with you."
"We're not getting divorced."
"Yes we are."
"No." I took a breath. Forced myself to stay calm. "Divorce. You're. Coming. With. Me."
"I'm not going anywhere with you." She crossed her arms again. "This is my apartment. You can't just walk in here andâ€""
I bent down. Wrapped my arms around her legs. Lifted.
In one smooth motion, she was over my shoulder.
"What the fuck!" She started kicking. "Put me down!"
I headed for the door.
"Damon! I'm serious! Put meâ€"wait!"
I stopped. Turned around.
"What?"
"The stove!" She twisted to look back. "I left the hot pot on! The whole building will burn down!"
I stared at her.
She was more worried about her hot pot than being kidnapped.
I walked back to the kitchen. Set her down for exactly three seconds.
She immediately tried to bolt.
I caught her around the waist. Held her there while I reached over and turned off the stove.
Then I picked her up again. Back over my shoulder.
"This is insane!" She was pounding on my back now. "You can't just kidnap people!"
"I'm not kidnapping anyone." I grabbed my keys from my pocket. "I'm taking my wife home."
"I'm not your wife!"
"Yeah you are."
I carried her out the door. Down the hallway. Started down the stairs.
She'd stopped hitting me. Just hung there. Probably realized it wasn't working.
"People are going to see us," she hissed.
"Don't care."
"This is humiliating."
"Should've thought about that before you ran."
We made it down three flights without seeing anyone.
Thank God this building had shit occupancy rates.
My SUV was parked right outside. I opened the passenger door. Tried to set her down in the seat.
She grabbed the door frame. Wouldn't let go.
"Scarlett."
"No."
"Let go of the door."
"Make me."
I pried her fingers off. One by one. Then buckled her seatbelt before she could try again.
Slammed the door. Walked around to the driver's side.
Got in. Started the engine.
She was glaring at me. Arms crossed. Jaw set.
"We need to talk about this," she said.
"No we don't."
"Yes we do. There's clearly been a misunderstanding aboutâ€""
"No misunderstanding." I pulled out into traffic. "No divorce. End of discussion."
"But that doesn't make sense! The whole reason weâ€""
"I said end of discussion."
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
Then just slumped back in her seat.
We drove in silence.
I could feel her looking at me every few minutes. Could practically hear her brain working. Trying to figure out what to say next.
Twenty minutes later, we pulled up to the estate.
I parked in the garage. Turned off the engine.
Scarlett didn't move. Just sat there staring straight ahead.
"We're here," I said.
"I can see that."
"So get out."
"No."
Jesus Christ.
I got out. Walked around to her side. Opened the door.
She'd somehow gotten the seatbelt back on. Was clutching it like a lifeline.
"Scarlett."
"I'm not going in there."
"Yes you are."
"No. I'm not."
I reached in. Unbuckled the seatbelt.
She tried to grab it again. Too late.
I pulled her out. She tried to brace her feet. I just picked her up.
Same position as before. Over my shoulder.
"NOT AGAIN!" Her voice echoed in the garage.
I started walking toward the house.
The service entrance. Fewer people that way.
But we still had to go through the kitchen.
Maria and two other staff members were there. They all froze when they saw us.
Scarlett's face was bright red.
"Put me down," she hissed. "I can walk."
"Nope."
"Damon. Please. This is so embarrassing."
"Should've come quietly."
I carried her through the kitchen. Past the dining room. Up the main staircase.
More staff. All staring.
Arthur was standing at the top of the stairs. His eyebrows went up when he saw us.
"Sir." He cleared his throat. "Shall I... would you like assistance?"
"No thanks. I got her."
Scarlett made a sound. Something between a groan and a whimper.
I walked down the hallway to the master bedroom.
Kicked the door open.
Walked to the bed.
Set her down.
She immediately scrambled backward. Put as much distance between us as possible.
We stared at each other.
Her hair was a mess. Her face was still red. She looked furious and humiliated and stubborn.
And she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.
"You can't keep me here," she said. "This is kidnapping. False imprisonment. I could call the police."
"Go ahead." I pulled out my phone. Tossed it on the bed. "Call them."
She looked at the phone. Then at me.