Chapter 5 Five

Sophia POV

"And who is this lovely young woman?" she inquired, lowering the wooden spoon.

"This is Dr. Sophia Carter. She'll be our guest for a while," Damian explained, moving to stand beside me. Isabella slipped from my arms and scampered back to her grandmother.

"Your new wife?" she asked, eyeing me intently, making me uncomfortable.

"No, Mama. She's here to... consult with us," Damian replied evasively.

"You should consider remarrying. You can't keep living in Elena's memory forever."

I noticed Damian's face darken at the mention of Elena. I deduced she must have been Isabella's mother.

"Let's not discuss this in front of our guest," Damian said tersely.

Just then, Marco entered the room, an amused expression on his face as he took in the scene.

"Boss, there's a situation that requires your attention," he announced.

"I'll be right back. Stay with my mother; she's good company. And remember, not a word about how you got here," Damian warned me quietly before leaving.

As I watched him go, I was reminded that beneath his charismatic exterior, he was still the dangerous man I'd met in prison.

"You two seem to be getting along," his mother observed, absently stroking Isabella's hair.

"I suppose," I replied noncommittally.

She beckoned me away from the balcony into the main room, handing Isabella a toy to play with.

"I must apologize for my son's brusqueness. I'm sure he hasn't treated you as a lady deserves," she said, catching me off guard with her apology.

Damian was so different from his genteel mother. It was hard to reconcile the two.

"How long has he been involved in... his business?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

"Since he was a teenager. Damian has always been drawn to the underground world. I tried to dissuade him, but he wouldn't listen. Growing up without a father affected him deeply, I'm afraid."

I could see the pain in her eyes as she spoke.

"So, you're aware that your son is one of the most wanted men in the country, perhaps even the world?" I pressed.

"Listen, dear, there's a clear distinction between lies and truth. The media often distorts reality. The truth is, Damian is a man devoted to his family while managing his business interests."

"By 'business,' you mean illegal activities? Assassinations? Arms dealing? That kind of 'business'?" I replied sarcastically.

"How did you and Damian meet?" she asked. I was tempted to tell the truth, but Damian's warning kept me silent.

"At a bar," I lied.

"So, you're one of his... companions?" I gasped softly, and she noticed my reaction. "Wait, if you're not one of his usual women, why did he bring you here?"

"I'm Dr. Sophia Carter. I'm a forensic psychologist."

"A psychologist? Is something wrong with Damian? Tell me," she said, suddenly anxious.

"Nothing's wrong with Damian, I... um..." I struggled to explain.

The door opened, and Barry entered, glaring at me. I could tell he was still smarting from my earlier retort.

"The boss wants to see you," he announced gruffly.

"Well, I suppose we'll talk later," Damian's mother said. "Please, take care of my son. I may not always be there for him, but seeing you with him gives me hope. He needs someone in his life, especially after... the incident."

As I followed Barry out, my mind raced, wondering what had happened with Damian's former wife.

We entered what looked like an office. Damian was on the phone and motioned for Barry to leave.

"So, what were you saying about killing Dr. Carter?" My heart nearly stopped at his words.

"If you lay a finger on her, I'll hunt you down myself," a voice growled from the phone. I realized Damian was speaking to someone about me.

"Agent Thompson, you worry too much. If I wanted Sophia dead, she wouldn't have left that cell alive," Damian replied coolly. "Why don't you speak to her yourself?" He pushed the phone towards me.

"Agent Thompson?"

"Dr. Carter! Thank God you're alive. Are you alright? Has he hurt you?" Thompson asked frantically.

"I'm fine, Agent Thompson. He hasn't harmed me, but I want to leave..." Damian pulled the phone away.

"Satisfied?" he asked Thompson.

"What do you want, Russo?" Thompson demanded.

"You know exactly what I want. Stop playing games."

"You can't strong-arm the authorities into clearing your shipments! You're a wanted man!" Thompson retorted.

"Listen closely, Thompson. We both know you're lying. I've seen you clear shipments for others through your connections. I won't waste more time on this. And don't bother trying to trace this call; I'm not that careless." He hung up.

"Am I just leveraged for your criminal enterprises?" I asked, anger rising in me.

"You're much more than that, darling," Damian said, rising and moving towards me. I watched his every move warily as he perched on the edge of the desk next to me.

"My ex-wife, Elena, was murdered, he said."

"I'm sorry for your loss," I said, my tone rising slightly at the end. "But what does that have to do with me?" I watched as Damian's face became a mask of emotionless anguish.

He tilted his head, studying me, then shook it as he let out a heavy sigh that made his broad shoulders slump. Emotion returned to his face as his brows furrowed deeply.

"You don't seem to grasp the reality here. Perhaps it's because you've lived in a sheltered world. My world," he said, standing up straight and gesturing around him, "is dark, bloody, and dangerous."

"But you," I interrupted, pointing at him and then towards the door, "you have a daughter and a mother. They seem to be the light of your world. You're a completely different person around Isabella, almost like a devoted father. In this dark, scary world you speak of, you have these calm, bright parts. Isn't that contradictory?" I crossed my legs, my professional instincts kicking in.

He turned to me and slowly sat down. "Perhaps," he admitted. "But it has its complexities. Even in the darkest places, there are moments of brightness. It's my duty to protect those moments." His face slowly contorted into anger again, sending a slight shiver through me.

"How long am I going to be here?" I turned away, unable to meet his intense gaze.

Unlike the prison, there were no chains, no cold metal tables, and no constant surveillance.

"This isn't sustainable. I'm an ocean away from my home and everything familiar. Surely you have a plan? What's this about? Are you at odds with Agent Thompson?" I raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"At odds?" He chuckled. "No, nothing like that. This world is bloody and brutal, but we don't involve innocents."

That made me laugh. I gestured to myself. "So what am I? Collateral damage? Or am I a reminder that you deliberately pulled me into this, whatever 'this' is?"

I was fuming now. I hated being in the dark, not knowing what was happening. It frustrated me beyond measure, and I couldn't stop resenting him for it.

"I want to go home please," I said firmly, crossing my arms and sinking deeper into the chair with an exasperated sigh.

"That's not possible. We have unfinished business, remember? Our sessions aren't over." His words made my face flush with heat. I felt my eyes widen, and I practically jumped to my feet, walking away from him.

"Looks like I struck a nerve," he said. Suddenly, I felt his hand on my arm, pulling me against his chest.

"Come now, don't get so worked up – although I must admit, your reactions are quite... intriguing." He smirked, his voice low and teasing.

"Stay away from me," I managed to growl. "I want nothing to do with you. Absolutely nothing. And don't you dare touch me." I tried to yank my arm from his grip.

Damian, however, seemed more amused than anything.

"I swear, I'll make you pay for this," I glared at him with as much intensity as my 5'4" frame could muster. The more I did, the more I realized how futile it was. Finally, I succumbed to exhaustion, leaning against the wall and turning away. "Please, just let me go."

He was still laughing, his shoulders shaking gently. His piercing green eyes twinkled with amusement, while his unnaturally handsome face cracked into a smile that made him look – dare I say – almost human.

"So you can be polite. And here I thought your vocabulary was limited to profanities. But I like it. Both sides of you – the sweet and the feisty. I always appreciate a woman with spirit," he said, his grip on my arm tightening slightly, causing me to gasp. At this point, I wasn't sure if what I felt was fear or anticipation.

"Boss." The playful look on his face instantly morphed into a cold mask. He straightened up and turned around, releasing my arm.

"Phone call. Thompson says he needs to speak with you privately." Marco looked at me apologetically as he held up the phone. In his large hand, the device looked comically small.

Damian strode towards Marco, covering the distance in a few long steps. "What?" he barked into the phone as he left the room, leaving me alone with Marco.

"What's wrong with him?" I seethed, balling my hands into fists as I stomped towards Marco. "What do you all want from me? What exactly? What's the point of all this? He still has influence even from here, and this is all so wrong."

Marco simply shrugged. "He didn't have much choice," he said in a low voice. "If it were up to me, I might have done worse." The large man shrugged again and walked out, leaving me even more confused than when I'd woken up.

"Why would he have done worse?" I asked myself, the weight of my situation settling heavily upon me.