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Blood during vows
Damien POV:
I poured milk into my cereal and leaned against the kitchen island, staring blankly at the bowl like it held answers I didn't ask for. The city stretched far beneath my windows, but I wasn't looking at the skyline.
My mind was still trapped in that hotel room... with her.
Lina.
I saw her as clear as daylight naked under the white duvet, her legs tangled, the sheet only covering her waist, leaving her breasts soft and bare to the morning light. She looked like something sacred. A painting God must have signed by hand.
I wanted to stay.
Every part of me screamed to crawl back into that bed and get lost in her all over again. Her warmth, her scent, the sound of her breathing...
But I couldn't risk it.
Not yet.
It wasn't about fear I don't run from anything. But staying meant questions. And questions led to answers I wasn't ready to give.
Not when everything about me who I am, why I came is still a game of shadows.
So, I left. No note. No goodbye. Just silence and her sleeping figure burned into my memory.
Now here I was, back in my penthouse, eating cereal like it was any other day.
Today was the wedding.
The one I was paid to cover. Carter made sure my name was on that guest list, camera and all. But how the hell was I supposed to stand behind a lens and take pictures of her marrying that street clown?
Nah. I couldn't do it.
So, I stayed home. Hiding. Watching. Regretting.
I stirred the cereal lazily, not even sure why I made it. Appetite wasn't something I had the luxury of right now.
Then I heard it.
The voice on the TV cut through my thoughts like a knife.
> "...breaking news from the grand wedding at Kingsworth Hotel, where tragedy struck just moments before the vows..."
My head turned.
The reporter's tone was too calm, too professional for the kind of madness she was describing.
> "An unidentified woman stormed the venue with a pistol, causing chaos. Before security could intervene, the woman shot herself in front of dozens of guests. She died on the scene."
I froze.
The spoon slipped from my fingers into the bowl. Milk splashed but I didn't flinch.
Dead?
Who the hell-
I stepped closer to the screen, blood pounding in my ears.
No name. No face. Just that one damn word.
Dead.
And suddenly, I didn't care about the cereal.
Or the wedding.
Or the lie I'd told myself that staying away was the right move.
Because whatever happened back there... wasn't random. And I had a bad feeling that this was only the beginning.
I stared at the soggy cereal for a moment longer before pushing the bowl away with a sigh. Appetite? Gone. Completely.
There was no way in hell I could sit still after what I just heard. Someone pulled a damn gun and died at Lina's wedding.
That wasn't coincidence.
That was calculated chaos.
I left the kitchen and made my way down the quiet hall toward my room. The penthouse lights adjusted as I moved, shadows trailing behind me like secrets. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, but I ignored it.
I stripped off my lounge pants and hoodie, changed into something sharp yet lowkey black slacks, a fitted wine-colored shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows. The watch I strapped on cost enough to feed a village, but I wore it like it was nothing. Money didn't move me anymore.
Power did.
I grabbed my car keys and stepped into the private elevator, heading straight to the underground garage. No flashy car today not when the air was already thick with smoke. I slid behind the wheel of a matte black Lexus SUV. Quiet, clean, forgettable.
Destination: the family estate.
The mansion that had raised kings... and built killers.
---
The Blake's Mansion sat like a god in the middle of acres of land ancient, vast, and laced with the scent of generational wealth. Every brick whispered legacy. Every inch of that house screamed power.
When I stepped inside, the scent of aged scotch and wood polish greeted me like home.
"Damien," my father's deep voice echoed from the sitting room.
I found him exactly where I expected in his usual armchair, a glass of whiskey in hand, eyes sharp and knowing. Chief Adeyemi didn't just run an empire. He was the empire.
He poured me a drink before I could sit.
"I saw the news," he said. No greetings. No small talk. Just straight to business.
I took the glass from him, the ice clinking gently. "I was about to tell you."
He nodded, calm as ever. "You don't need to. I've already made calls."
Of course he had.
"She killed herself in front of everyone," I said, voice low. "At her wedding. That's not a regular scandal, Dad. That's a damn bloodstain."
"And that's why we lay low," he replied, sipping slowly. "Let the noise settle. Someone lost their life, Damien. That changes the board."
I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees. "But what if it wasn't random? What if this is someone trying to expose the operation?"
His eyes darkened, but his tone stayed steady. "Even if it is, we don't flinch. The plan stays. Let Carter's camp scramble to clean the mess. Ours stays clean."
I said nothing, but my jaw clenched.
The war between our families had been raging before I was even born. Blake's and the Carter's family fire and oil. What started as corporate rivalry had grown into generational enmity. My father had played it slow, smart grooming me in silence while Carter's father paraded his success.
Then the unexpected happened Carter's father died.
Suddenly, the golden boy was handed a crown he never prepared for. Young. Naive. Desperate to prove himself.
That was our moment.
Lina...
She had always been part of the plan. A piece to pull Carter's emotional strings.
Only now... she was more than a strategy to me.
I couldn't get her out of my damn head.
Not the way she moaned my name.
Not the way she trembled when I touched her.
Hell, most women screamed when they got a taste of the instrument between my thighs and they begged to stay obedient. But Lina? She didn't just feel different. She was different.
"I'm still going through with it," I muttered, finally.
My father looked at me over his glass. "Good. But be wise. And be quiet. If Carter suspects anything now, we lose the edge."
I nodded once, finished my drink, and stood.
---
I drove back in silence, my hand gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary. The wind cut through the barely-cracked window, but it didn't cool the storm inside me.
The moment I got home, I tossed the keys on the console, kicked off my shoes, and headed straight to the bathroom.
I needed to forget.
Or maybe... I wanted to remember too much.
Steam filled the glass shower as I stepped under the hot spray, letting it scorch away the mess in my mind.
But the moment the water hit me, all I could feel was her.
Her warmth.
The tight, wet grip of her walls when I slid into her.
The way her fingers clawed my back. The sound of my name on her lips like a prayer and a curse.
I slammed a fist against the foggy glass, breathing hard.
Damn you, Lina.
I finished the shower quickly, dried off, and wrapped a towel around my waist. My room was dimly lit when I stepped out, the air cooler, sharper. I crossed to the wardrobe, reaching for boxers.
That's when I heard it.
A sound.
Soft. Like movement.
Coming from the balcony.
I froze.
No one knows I live here. No one but my father. And even he doesn't visit unannounced.
I moved silently toward the sliding glass door, every muscle in my body alert.
Just as I reached for the handle-
Click.
That unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked.
"Put your hands up," a voice ordered, low and firm.