Chapter 9
983 Words
A thin veil of fog blanketed John F. Kennedy International Airport as Julian Thorne’s private jet touched down.
Inside the VIP terminal, Damian Xavier was waiting. He hadn’t sent a driver, he stood there himself, dressed in a formal black suit without a tie, hands buried in his pockets. His gaze was sharp, scanning every passenger emerging from the arrivals gate.
Then, he saw her.
Sheina appeared, her stride graceful yet commanding. She wore a long cream-colored coat and oversized sunglasses that shielded her eyes. Beside her, Julian Thorne walked with a protective air, while on her other side, a small boy—Leon—walked along, clutching his mother’s hand.
Damian’s heart hammered against his ribs—a sensation he rarely felt. As they drew closer, he stepped forward, blocking their path.
"Welcome back to New York, Ms. Blake," Damian said, his voice low and trembling with suppressed emotion.
Sheina stopped right in front of him. Slowly, she lowered her sunglasses, meeting his gaze with eyes devoid of emotion—eyes that once adored him, but now looked at him as if he were a complete stranger.
"Thank you for the welcome, Mr. Xavier. But I don’t feel like I’ve 'returned,' because I never felt like I belonged to this city," Sheina replied coldly.
Damian wasn't truly listening to her words. His eyes were fixed on her neck, searching for the small birthmark he knew by heart... but it was hidden beneath a silk scarf. He then looked down at Leon. The boy stared back with eyes strikingly similar to his own—piercing and full of defiance.
"Your son?" Damian asked softly.
"My son, and my late husband’s, Thomas," Sheina emphasized the name 'Thomas' with a flat, firm tone. "Leon, greet Mr. Xavier. He’s the one who purchased Mommy’s paintings." She glanced at Leon, her hand tightening around his small one as if fearing Damian might snatch him away.
"Hello, Mr. Xavier," Leon said politely, though he didn't smile.
Damian felt as if the air had been sucked out of his lungs.
"He looks very much like you, Sheina," Damian remarked, his voice strained. He could feel it in his gut—the boy's sharp eyes were undeniably his.
"Many people say that," Sheina answered curtly. "Now, may we go? The journey has been quite exhausting."
"I’ve prepared a vehicle for you." Damian stepped closer, reaching out to touch her arm. Her scent was no longer the roses Camila used to love; instead, a mysterious fragrance of sandalwood and amber filled his senses.
He caught her wrist just as she turned to leave. The contact was brief, but it felt like an electric shock to them both. Her skin was cool, yet Damian could feel her pulse racing beneath his fingers.
Sheina didn’t pull away violently. Instead, she paused and looked down at his hand with a look of pure disdain.
"Mr. Xavier, is this part of New York hospitality? Touching guests without permission?"
Damian released his grip, but his eyes remained locked on hers. "I only want to ensure my guest of honor arrives safely at the hotel. And I intend to escort you myself."
Julian Thorne stepped forward, attempting to intervene. "I believe we can arrange our own transportation, Xavier."
"This is my territory, Thorne," Damian snapped, a flash of a threat in his eyes. "And in New York, guests of the Xavier family are the responsibility of the Xavier family."
Sheina signaled Julian not to escalate the situation. Finally, she gave a brief nod and gestured for Julian to follow her toward Damian’s luxury limousine.
"Very well. We will go with you," she said.
Damian offered a satisfied smirk as he led his guests to the waiting limo.
Inside the car heading toward Manhattan, the atmosphere was suffocating. Damian sat across from Sheina, unable to look away. He watched the way she tucked her hair, the way she spoke softly to Leon—every movement was an exact replica of Camila, yet she carried an aura far more powerful and cold.
Damian’s head spun. Logic told him this was Sheina Blake—a woman with a documented past, a deceased husband, and a life in England. Yet every cell in his body screamed that the woman sitting before him was the one he had cast away five years ago.
"Why are you staring at me as if I’m a ghost, Mr. Xavier?" Sheina asked suddenly, breaking the silence. She met his gaze, her chin tilted upward.
Damian shook himself, trying to regain control. "Because you remind me of someone who has been gone for a long time. Someone very precious... and someone I loved deeply."
"Perhaps that’s why you bought my paintings. You weren't buying art, you bought them because you felt I resembled your lover." Sheina offered a thin, mocking smile.
The words hit Damian like a physical blow to the chest. He leaned forward, closing the distance between them until their faces were only inches apart. In that cramped space, his longing spilled over, drowning out his doubts.
"If you really are that ghost," Damian whispered, his eyes dropping to her lips with a restrained hunger, "I won't let you disappear again. This time, I’ll lock the door."
Sheina didn’t blink. She met his intense stare with cold courage. "Careful, Mr. Xavier. Sometimes ghosts return not to be embraced, but to seek revenge."
She leaned back, distancing herself. Damian sat frozen. His eyes drifted to Leon, who was quietly playing with a toy.
The car pulled up in front of a luxury hotel. Sheina immediately slid her sunglasses back on, severing their burning contact.
"I’ll see you at dinner tomorrow, Mr. Xavier. I hope your mother has prepared a decent menu," Sheina said before stepping out of the car, leaving Damian paralyzed in the shadows of the limousine, his heart racing between love, hate, and madness.
- Writer
