Beneath His Sheets

Thirteen

Damien's POV

Before I even turn the corner, I see her.

She’s laughing—full on laughing—with some boy. She tilts her head, touches his arm, playfully smacks him like they’ve known each other for years. Something cold and sharp coils inside my chest.

I didn't even think. I just stop the car in full view and hit the horn—loud, obnoxious, impossible to ignore.

Her smile dies instantly. Every bit of color drains from her face. I never wanted her to be scared of me…

But right now?

I’m glad she feels something

Gasps ripple through the students around them. Murmurs of my name fill the air—my last name, actually. The one that always gets attention. Phones shoot up. Flashes spark.

I step out of the car. “Get in.”

She doesn’t argue. She runs—covers her face—because she knows the cameras aren’t pointed at me. They’re pointed at her. At us

I don’t care about being photographed. Not once in my life have I cared. But today?

Everything is irritating.

As soon as she slips inside the car she hisses, “Why are you here? Drive. Drive, please just drive.”

“Relax. It’s tinted.”

“I don’t care—just go!”

“As you wish.”

I pull away from her university. I can feel her staring at me, confused, angry, humiliated.

“Where’s Paul?” she demands. “Why did you pick me up?”

I shrug. “I was on my way home. Figured you might be headed the same direction. Saves gas.”

We both know that’s the dumbest excuse I’ve ever given.

She covers her face again. “Oh my God…”

“What?” I ask, my jaw ticking. “You want me to stay away so you can laugh with your boyfriend?”

I choke on the last word. Boyfriend. The taste of it is bitter, sour, wrong.

But what ruins me is her answer.

“Yes. So please don’t do that again.”

I slam the brakes and pull over. A spark inside me ignites—sharp and hot. I can joke about that boy. She? She doesn’t get to.

“Take it back,” I say quietly, dangerously.

She blinks. “What?”

“You know what.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re testing me.” I laugh once, humorless.

She crosses her arms and slumps against the window—defiant, bratty.

“I’m not bratty!” I remembered her saying. God, she’s ridiculous.

“I can ruin him, you know,” I say, voice dropping into something dark. “Find his name, look up his family, and destroy every opportunity he’ll ever have.”

That gets her attention. Her head whips toward me.

“You’re a psychopath!”

“Maybe.” I stare straight ahead. “Now take it back.”

“Fine!” she huffs. “He’s not my boyfriend! He’s just a friend—a new friend I met today! Happy?!”

But the thing is…

No.

No, I’m not.

My hands tighten around the wheel.

The drive back to the mansion was unbearable. Every turn of the wheel seemed slower than the last, and every glance at Grace beside me made something twist deep in my chest. She was quiet, impossibly quiet, and the faint set of her jaw made me think she was thinking, calculating, or hiding something. That’s what made it worse.

I should have been focused on the road, but all I could think about was how she had been laughing earlier, so carefree, so unguarded, with that boy — Cian. Touching his arm, leaning in, that little playful smack she’d given him… my jaw clenched before I could stop it.

“Why were you laughing so loud?” I asked, keeping my eyes forward but my voice low, controlled, like it didn’t matter. “And he… he was too close. You barely even know him.”

Her eyes flicked to me, sharp, but calm — calm enough to make me want to grind my teeth.

“And?” she said, as if that were enough.

“And?” I repeated, my hand tightening on the steering wheel. “You don’t do that. Not like that. Not with someone you barely know!”

Grace’s lips twitched into the faintest smirk. “Oh, come on. You think you’re the only one who gets close to people?”

I glanced at her sharply. She didn’t flinch. She wasn’t afraid of me. That should have made me relieved — it didn’t.

“You’re serious?” I said, voice low, dangerous. “That’s your defense?”

Her hands gripped her bag in her lap. “Look, you were… you know, you’re everywhere. And now everyone sees it. Even here, in school. It’s not like I haven’t seen you all over the internet.”

That should have shut me down, right? Made me shrug it off. Instead… it twisted me in ways I didn’t like. My jaw tightened, and I had to fight the urge to say something I’d regret.

“I’m not like them,” I said finally, my voice quieter, but the edge didn’t leave. “Not like them, Grace.”

She raised a brow. “You're joking right? Have you forgotten who I am?"

The silence that followed was heavy. Too heavy. The car hummed under us, tires eating the asphalt, and I couldn’t stop watching her. She was biting her lip, tense, but refusing to meet my eyes — stubborn, just like she always was.

Then it came out before I could stop it, almost a hiss, half anger, half confusion.

“That night,” I said, voice tighter now, “the night we… we spent together — you don’t get to act like it didn’t happen!”

I immediately regretted it. Her head snapped up. The flush that had been creeping into her cheeks spread like wildfire.

“Damien…” she started, voice shaky but defiant, “I—”

I cut her off with a low groan, trying to suppress how much I hated how my chest felt. “Forget it.”

Her lips pressed together. “Yeah… forget it.”

But the tension between us didn’t fade. Both of us knew the truth — neither of us would ever forget that night. The air felt charged, almost dangerous. My hands clenched around the wheel as I fought the urge to reach over and grab her, to shake her, to make her say something.

She was quiet after that, but the energy in the car shifted. It wasn’t comfort. It wasn’t calm. It was… electric. Unsettling. Intense. Like standing on the edge of something neither of us were ready to name.

And just like that, we were pulling into the mansion’s drive. The gates slid open with a soft groan, and I noticed a figure sitting on the porch almost immediately. Rina. The new maid.

She was leaning lazily back in the chair, legs crossed, smirking like she owned the place — no, like she owned me Grace’s head turned slightly, catching sight of her. The smirk on her face was infuriatingly smug.

“Hey,” Grace said, voice dripping teasing mockery, “look. Your girlfriend.”

I gritted my teeth.

Grace leaned back in her seat, the ghost of a smile lingering on her lips, as if daring me to do something about it. And in that moment, I hated that I didn’t — that part of me just wanted to protect her from seeing the way Rina moved around me, just like I hated that part of me wanted to strangle her for teasing me.

I sighed and turned off the car.

Before I could say another word Graced jumped out of the car and greeted Rina with a smile ans whispered something made her giggle.