Arguing With The Devil
1199 Words
|Casmira's POV|
"DAMIEN!"
The shout barely leaves my lips before a strong arm wraps around my waist and yanks me backwards so suddenly that my feet leave the ground entirely.
The vase flies through the space where my head had been a second earlier.
CRASH!
Glass explodes against the wall behind me.
The sound echoes through the room.
My heart nearly stops.
For a moment, I can't even breathe.
I can only stare at the shattered pieces littering the floor while Damien's arm remains firmly locked around my waist, holding me flush against his chest.
Oh my God.
She actually threw a vase at me.
"Are you insane?" Damien's voice cuts through the silence like a whip.
The temperature in the room seems to drop instantly.
I have never heard him sound like that before.
Not when we were teenagers.
Not today.
Not ever.
Katrina visibly flinches.
"You married another woman!" she shouts back, tears streaming down her face.
Damien slowly releases me before stepping forward, placing himself between Katrina and me once again.
His expression is terrifyingly calm.
Which somehow makes him even scarier.
"You threw a vase at her head."
"I wasn't actually going to hit her!"
I blink.
Was she hearing herself?
"Well, that's reassuring." I mutter.
Katrina shoots me a murderous glare.
"Stay out of this."
"Oh, I'd love to." I fold my arms across my chest. "Unfortunately, you tried to murder me with home decor."
Mr. Rupert coughs suspiciously, clearly trying not to laugh.
The registrar looks like he is reconsidering every life choice that brought him to this room.
"Katrina." Damien says coldly. "Leave."
"No."
His jaw tightens.
"No?" he repeats.
"I gave you two years of my life." she says, pointing at him with shaking fingers. "Two years, Damien. You don't get to throw me away and replace me overnight."
Something flashes across his face.
Guilt.
Maybe.
But it disappears so quickly that I almost think I imagined it.
"This marriage is none of your concern."
The words seem to break something inside her.
She laughs bitterly before turning toward me.
And suddenly I don't like the look in her eyes.
Not one bit.
She takes a step closer.
Then another.
"You think you've won?" she asks quietly.
My stomach twists.
Because angry Katrina was one thing.
Calm Katrina is much worse.
"I don't know what game he's playing," she continues, staring directly at me, "but trust me when I tell you this, Casmira...this isn't over."
A chill runs down my spine.
Something about the way she says it makes me believe her.
Entirely.
Katrina wipes her tears away before turning on her heel and storming out of the room.
The door slams shut behind her.
Silence follows.
A long silence.
Finally, Mr. Rupert claps his hands together.
"Well." He smiles brightly. "That was entertaining."
I stare at him.
I genuinely stare at him.
"You're a psychopath."
His smile widens.
"I've been called worse."
I groan.
This is my life now.
Wonderful.
Absolutely wonderful.
⸻
Twenty minutes later, I am marching down the steps outside Town Hall, trying very hard not to think about the fact that I somehow managed to get married before breakfast.
To Damien Everhart.
The universe clearly hates me.
"Casmira."
I ignore him.
"Casmira."
I keep walking.
"Casmira."
"For the love of God, what?" I spin around.
Damien stands beside a sleek black luxury sedan parked at the curb.
The car probably costs more than my townhouse.
Maybe more than my entire neighborhood.
"Get in."
I laugh.
Actually laugh.
"No."
His eyebrow rises.
"No?"
"No." I repeat. "I would rather walk barefoot through broken glass."
His expression remains completely unchanged.
"I wasn't asking."
"That's unfortunate because I'm saying no."
"Casmira."
"Damien."
We stare at each other.
My irritation grows.
His amusement grows.
I hate that I can tell.
"I am not going anywhere with you."
His gaze drifts over me before he casually slips one hand into his pocket.
"Actually, you are."
I narrow my eyes.
"Oh really?"
"Really."
"And why exactly is that?"
His smirk appears.
And immediately I know I am about to hate whatever comes out of his mouth.
"You signed the contract."
My stomach drops.
Damn it.
"The contract states that you are required to reside with me for the duration of our marriage."
I groan.
"Don't remind me."
"It also states that you are required to share my residence."
"I know."
"My room."
I freeze.
Wait.
What?
My eyes widen.
"What?"
"My room." Damien repeats calmly.
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
I point a finger directly at his chest.
"Absolutely not."
His smirk deepens.
The bastard is enjoying this.
"There is literally a clause stating that we are expected to appear as a genuine married couple."
My face heats.
For absolutely no reason whatsoever.
None.
Zero.
"The contract also mentions physical affection when necessary."
My face becomes even hotter.
God.
I hate him.
I hate him so much.
"You're enjoying this." I accuse.
"A little."
I want to punch him.
Truly.
Violently.
"You're unbelievable."
"So I've been told."
My heart pounds harder as he takes a step closer.
Then another.
And suddenly there isn't nearly enough space between us.
I immediately take a step backwards.
Unfortunately, my back collides with the car.
Great.
Just great.
Damien stops directly in front of me.
Too close.
Far too close.
I can smell his cologne.
Feel the warmth radiating from him.
See every tiny detail of his face.
His stupidly attractive face.
God.
Why does he have to look like that?
"Get in the car, Casmira."
"No."
His eyes flicker.
"You're making this difficult."
"Good."
A muscle jumps in his jaw.
The next thing I know, his hands land on either side of me against the car.
My breath catches.
Oh.
Oh no.
My pulse immediately goes haywire.
This is bad.
Very bad.
Because suddenly all I can think about is how close he is.
How ridiculously close he is.
The world seems to narrow until all I can see is him.
His eyes.
His mouth.
The tiny scar near his jaw.
My heart pounds so loudly that I am convinced he can hear it.
"Casmira."
His voice comes out lower this time.
My throat feels dry.
"What?"
The word comes out softer than intended.
For one strange moment neither of us moves.
Neither of us speaks.
His gaze drops briefly.
To my lips.
My stomach flips.
Then mine drop to his.
And suddenly I become painfully aware of how little space exists between us.
One movement.
One inch.
That is all it would take.
The realization hits me like a truck.
My breathing falters.
His jaw tightens.
And for the briefest second, it looks like he is thinking the exact same thing.
Then—
A horn blares somewhere down the street.
The moment shatters.
Completely.
Damien straightens immediately before opening the passenger door.
"Get in the car, wife."
I stare at him.
Then at the car.
Then back at him.
My entire body still feels overheated.
My heart still refuses to calm down.
And worst of all—
His smirk is back.
I hate him.
I absolutely hate him.
Unfortunately, I climb into the car anyway.
- Writer
