Chapter 2 2

Damien Knight

She was startled out of the last vestiges of her dreams by the mere mention of his name. Anya's eyes flickered open, and she found herself looking up at the ceiling of a strange room, very different from the small, dark apartment she had been living in. Her heart raced when she realized she was in Damien's penthouse.

She pictured the previous night's events in her head, each one more vivid than the last, like images from a movie. The way he had gazed at her, his intensity melting every fiber of her resistance; the way his hands ran over her flesh, rough yet tender; the way his lips touched hers, setting off a fire that consumed them both. It had been a night of unadulterated, unrestrained desire, unlike any other.

However, as the mist of longing cleared, reality and a wave of remorse followed. Anya awoke slowly and took in her surroundings while holding the covers to her chest. The space was large, tastefully decorated, and well thought out; each piece of furniture and accent piece was picked to convey a sense of richness and sophistication. It was a world that seemed almost unreal, so different from her own.

She looked over at the room next to her, the bed made up but the sheets still crumpled from their passionate night together. Damien had vanished. There was an odd mixture of comfort and regret at the concept. Relief that her head was a tornado of feelings she couldn't even start to sort through, and that she wasn't ready to face him at this moment. She was disappointed because, in spite of everything, she had held out hope that he may still be around, that they might speak, and that he could somehow help her make sense of the chaos inside of her.

Anya shook her head, attempting to refute the ridiculous idea. What on earth would they discuss? They came from two very different worlds, that much was clear. Being a billionaire, Damien was someone she could never have imagined interacting with. And she was simply an art student in desperate need of money, just making ends meet as a waitress. Their shared night she had been nothing more than an instantaneous encounter between two lives never intended to entwine.

Anya stood, her feet sliding into the soft carpet as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She wrapped the sheet about herself, the chilly material not doing much to satisfy her sudden need for warmth. The ramifications of what had happened raced through her head as she padded across the room. What was going through her mind? How had she allowed herself to be so careless?

Anya looked in the bathroom mirror and saw herself. Her lips were slightly swollen from Damien's kisses, and her hair was a disheveled mess. She felt as though she was staring at someone else in the mirror, someone who had left her behind in the chilly morning light after spending just one night in her skin. an unfamiliar person. But she knew she couldn't deny it when her eyes dipped lower, taking in the subtle bruises on her neck and the redness of her skin. It had been a real night. Too true to be imagined.

Turning on the tap, she tried to wipe away the vestiges of the previous night by sprinkling cold water on her face. She was grounded when the cold shock brought her back to the present and made her face the reality of her circumstances. She was unable to stay here. She had to get out, she had to return to her own life, her own world, which felt suddenly so tiny and so stifling.

Anya discovered her phone resting on top of her nicely folded clothes on a chair by the bed. She put on her clothes rapidly, quivering as she tugged at each item. The apartment was strangely quiet, and she almost expected to see Damien waiting for her as she came out of the bedroom. The living space, however, was deserted; the only noise was the faint murmur of the city below. With its marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows providing an amazing view of the city, and paintings that she knew must have cost more than she could earn in a lifetime, the place was overpowering in its richness. Everything seemed so far off from reality that she might nearly consider it to be a dream that she desperately wanted to wake up from.

The buzzing of her phone startled her out of her reverie. When she looked down, Sofia, her roommate, texted her to find out where she was. Guilt twisted Anya's heart. She has never gone anywhere throughout the night without informing Sofia of her whereabouts. She quickly replied, offering a nonspecific explanation about staying with a friend and a promise to clarify everything later.

But what on earth could she say? The reality was too fantastical and incongruous with the life she had created for herself. She was unable to reveal to Sofia that she had spent the night with Damien Knight, a man who in their world was essentially legendary. It was a tale better suited for the pages of a romance book than her hard-won daily life.

Anya's steps wavered as she headed for the front entrance. She had a part of her that wanted to stay, to enjoy the last bits of the evening, to pretend for just a little while that she belonged in this world of comfort and luxury. However, the part of her that had endured years of survival, the hardened portion, understood otherwise. She needed to get out. She never would have this as her life.

She was almost to the door when she heard a quiet voice halt her.

"Leaving so soon?"

With her hand dangling over the handle, Anya froze. She cautiously turned to see Damien standing at another room's doorway, a sliver of his muscular chest visible through his undone shirt. His eyes, those sharp gray ones, were focused on her with such intensity that it made her pulse skip a beat. His dark hair was unkempt.

They just stared at one another for a while, their conversation heavy in silence. Anya struggled to find her voice as her breath caught in her throat.

Her voice was hardly audible above a whisper as she mumbled, "I... I should go."

Damien stepped forward, his eyes never leaving hers. His tone was as silky and low as the bourbon he'd handed her the previous evening. "You don't have to," he whispered.

Anya's heart raced in her chest, mirroring the turbulence in her thoughts. "I do," she stammered out in response. "I need to get back to my life."

There was a hint of softness, a flash of concern, crossing Damien's features. "And what if I want you to stay?"

With a promise she wasn't sure she was ready to accept, the question hung in the air. Her head and heart were at odds, with the voice of reason telling her to leave and the pull of his winning.

Anya shook her head, saying, "I can't." "This isn't... I'm not... We're from different worlds, Damien."

He drew closer to her, his intensity in his presence overpowering. His tone was gentle and enticing, as though he might convince her to change her opinion with just words. "And what if that doesn't matter to me?" he asked.

Anya's determination faltered, the attraction between them too strong to ignore. But for the sake of the two of them, she knew she had to be strong. She said, "It matters to me," her voice quivering from the intensity of her feelings.

Damien looked into her eyes, as though attempting to read the tension inside of her. At last, he gave a nod, a dejected expression covering his features. "If that's what you want," he responded, taking a step back to provide her some room.

Anya's chest constricted, the pain of leaving considerably worse than she had imagined. With her voice choking with emotion, she managed to say, "Thank you... for everything."

She turned and walked out the door, her heart heavy with the realization that she was leaving behind more than just a night of passion, but Damien's gaze softened and he said nothing more, only watching.

*****

The journey back home was a blur, with the city's streets speeding by her in a flurry of hues. Anya was so preoccupied with the torrent of emotions swirling inside her that she hardly noticed the world beyond the cab window. It was as if she were strolling through a dream that had abruptly changed from a dream to a nightmare the instant she left Damien's condo.

When she arrived at her flat, the sun had risen, illuminating the harsh reality from which she had made such a valiant effort to flee. When Anya came through the door, Sofia was waiting for her in the tiny kitchen, her black eyes wide with worry.

Sofia hurried to her side and cried, "Anya! Where have you been? I was so worried!"

Anya tried to smile, but her eyes stayed closed. "I'm sorry, Sofi. I didn't mean to worry you. I just... I needed some time alone."

Sofia softened her expression, but the concern persisted. "Are you okay? You look... different."

Not the same. Anya felt a deep connection to the term, a reminder that she was no longer the same person and that last night had altered her in ways she was still not fully aware of.

Anya remarked, her voice more steady now, "I'm fine." "Just a lot on my mind."

Sofia squinted her eyes, but she didn't look any closer. "Well, I'm glad you're back. We need to talk about the rent, though. We're a bit behind."

Anya nodded absently, her thoughts returning to what had happened that evening. She made an effort to pay attention to what Sofia had said and to keep herself rooted in the realities of her day. However, her mind kept wandering back to Damien-his voice, his touch, the irresistible attraction she had for him. How could she be so profoundly affected by one night?

The remainder of the day was spent juggling obligations and housework. Anya tried to lose herself in her routine, but everything seemed far away, as though she was living in a world that had lost some of its clarity. The canvases that had previously inspired her now seemed like relics of a past she was finding it difficult to connect with, and her painting equipment lay undisturbed in the corner of her room. There was a gnawing emptiness in place of the enthusiasm she typically threw into her work, which she was unable to articulate.

With the evening drawing near, Anya discovered that Sofia had left her apartment to work an evening shift at her job, leaving her alone. The colorful vibrancy of Damien's apartment was starkly contrasted with the suffocating silence. She took a seat at her tiny kitchen table and gazed at the mountain of invoices and past-due notifications that had piled up over the previous few weeks. To put it mildly, her financial condition was fragile, and last night's unanticipated spending made matters worse.

The buzzing sound on her phone snapped her out of her downward spiral. It was a reminder about her next visit from her gynecologist's office. When Anya read the words, her pulse skipped a beat. "Please remember to bring any necessary documents and be prepared for a routine check-up."

regular examination.

Her thoughts quickly returned to the evening she had spent with Damien-the closeness they had experienced, the way their bodies had merged with such intensity that it had left her gasping for air. Abruptly, a sickening terror seized her. How about if...?

Anya reached for her phone and her fingers trembled, dialing the number of a neighboring drugstore. She had to find out, to make sure that the fear that had crept into her was real or just the result of her overactive imagination.

It seemed like an endless wait. She paced her tiny apartment, fear and dread racing through her head. Eventually, the pharmacist called her back with the results. Her worst suspicions were validated.

maternity.

The word resounded with a sickening finality, echoing in her head like a hammer hitting metal. Anya fell to the ground and gripped her phone tightly, as though it might somehow offer solace, answers, or, more likely, a way to make sense of what was happening. She attempted to settle herself as her breathing became labored, but the realization was too much to bear.

She felt a tsunami of anxiety and confusion as she realized this. She carried a child. Along with Damien's kid. She was barely able to digest the concept since it was so overpowering. She trembled, feeling a deep disconnect between that night and the reality she now faced as her thoughts rushed back to the night they had spent together-the passion, the raw want.

How would she respond to this? The doubts and queries never stopped. Could she take care of a child by herself? Even so, could she tell Damien? It was terrible to think about reaching out to him, of sharing this secret. Although their experience had been powerful, it had only lasted for one night and was not intended to be a relationship. She didn't know how he would react to the news. What's more, how could she?

It was paralyzing to even consider going up against Damien. He was a billionaire, wealthy, well-connected, and leading an opulent life. As a failing artist, how could she expect him to be in her life at this point, particularly with something as important as a child? Their worlds were so different from one another that it seemed impossible to close the gap.

Anya had a wave of nausea as her feelings erupted into a storm of uncertainty and terror. She required a strategy, a technique to get around this new world. The enormity of the problem could not afford to overwhelm her; she had to act appropriately and with clear thinking.

The sound of a knock on the door distracted her from her thoughts. Anya was startled and stumbled to her feet, her heart pounding. Who might that be? She opened it after giving it some thought, her thoughts buzzing with possibilities. Upon eventually unlatching the door, she saw Sofia standing there with a worried expression on her face.

Sofia asked with concern in her voice, "Anya, are you okay?" "You look pale. I came back to check on you."

Anya mustered a smile that was both false and strained. "I'm fine, Sofi. Just... had a rough day."

As Sofia entered, she surveyed the messy apartment with wide eyes. "You don't look fine. You look like you're about to collapse. What's going on?"

Anya felt the pressure of her feelings pushing down on her as she took a deep breath. "It's nothing. Just... a lot to think about."

Concern softened Sofia's eyes, but she didn't ask more questions. "Well, if you need anything, I'm here. You know that, right?"

Anya nodded, appreciative of her friend's encouragement even though she was reluctant to reveal the whole depth of her distress. "Thank you, Sofia. I appreciate it."

Anya forced herself to concentrate on the pressing need to put on a brave face as Sofia took a seat on the couch. However, her mind was always buzzing with ideas about what to do next. Her life would completely change when her pregnancy became public, upending all of her hopes and plans.

Now, her future was a maze of unknowns. It was scary to think about parenting a child alone, and the idea of reaching out to Damien felt like an impossible task. Anya needed time to gather her thoughts and decide what to do next.

But she knew she couldn't do this by herself as soon as she glanced at Sofia. The way ahead was obscured by darkness, and she required assistance to make the challenging decisions that she faced. She had to confront her fear head-on and learn to manage it step by step while she attempted to fulfill her obligations.

Anya felt a wave of loneliness come over her as night fell and Sofia got ready to go for her shift. The future she had never envisioned was about to confront her, and the uncertainty was nearly unbearable. She was reminded of how alone she was in her struggle by the cold, unwelcoming world outside.

Anya watched Sofia go with a sorrowful heart, the door clicking shut behind her. Anya slumped onto the couch by herself once more, her mind a jumbled jumble of regrets and anxieties. Although she was unsure of what lied ahead, she did know that her life had irreparably changed and that she would need to muster the courage to face whatever was ahead.

Her eyes landed on the modest, unfinished art project on the table as she peered at the vacant flat. It brought back memories of her past self, the one who yearned to create and discover beauty in the world. But now that her present reality was pressing down on her, that dream seemed so far away.

A searing discomfort in Anya's abdomen snapped her out of her reverie and served as a constant reminder of the baby developing inside of her. The fact that she was pregnant remained a constant reminder that her decisions and deeds now had far more ramifications than they had in the past.

Anya sighed and got up from the couch, heading for the kitchen as she looked for a little regularity in the mundane activities of daily living. However, her mind continued to be a tempest of emotions, each wave slamming over her with ever-intense intensity, even as she cleaned and washed dishes.

And the fears and uncertainties hung heavy, casting a long, dark shadow over her future as she got ready for bed. The road ahead was unknown and full of obstacles she had not yet been able to foresee. All she could do was take each day as it came, clinging to the hope that she would manage to make it through the shadows somehow.

Anya felt a twinge of regret for her life that was gone as she lay in bed, the weight of her thoughts bearing down on her. However, the future waited for her, with all of its unknowns and difficulties. Along with that future came the difficult responsibility of making decisions that would affect not only her own life but also the life of the kid she was going to have.

As the night wore on, Anya kept staring at the ceiling and couldn't get rid of the feeling that her trip had only begun and would put her to the test in ways she still couldn't fathom. The uncertainties of her future blended with the shadows of her past to create an emotional tapestry that was both complex and intimidating.

And Anya knew that her struggles were far from over when sleep finally took her. She would have to muster the strength to travel a long and treacherous journey ahead of her. For her child, herself, and the future she aspired to create.

She had no idea that the hardest decisions were still to come and that the solutions she was looking for would only become clear when she overcame the challenges that awaited her.