Bound to a VEYRON

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

“Damien watched me, his expression hardening, waiting for me to ignore it or run away to answer it in tears. I did neither. I took one deep, steadying breath, slid my thumb across the screen, and brought the phone to my ear.

“Hi, Mom,” I said, my voice impossibly light and even.

His eyebrows shot up.

“No, everything’s fine,” I continued, turning my back to him to face the vast, dark windows. I created a bubble of privacy out of sheer force of will. “Just studying late with a friend. Yes, I’m eating. How are you feeling?”

I listened, making all the right noises, asking all the right questions, my entire being focused on sounding like the daughter my mother knew “

I like this one u didn’t do too much and it was rhyming with the plot

“The conversation lasted only two minutes, but when I hung up, the entire dynamic in the room had shifted. The rage was still there, but it had cooled”

I hope u noticed how I removed some of your words from it , take note Gemini 😒the pro version is limited so I expect efficiency

“I turned back to face him. The shaking was gone. My expression was placid.

He was staring at me, that calculated glint back in his eyes. He had tried to reduce me to a caricature, and I had refused to play the part.

“I’m tired,” I said, my voice flat. It wasn't an admission of weakness; it was a dismissal. I picked up my clutch bag. “I’ll see myself out.””

““Stop,” he commanded.

I paused but didn’t turn around.

“The guest wing is on the second floor. First door on the left,” he said, his voice clipped. “I’ll have something for you to wear sent over in the morning. We have things to discuss.”I didn’t answer. I simply turned and walked up the grand staircase

I woke up in a room that was dead silent. It was large and impersonal, with a huge window showing a city I didn't recognize from this high up. I pushed aside the silk sheets. He hadn't even apologized. Not like I care anyways. I was inside his house I had to find something.

A sharp knock on the door made me flinch. I opened it to find Damien standing there, already dressed in a dark polo shirt and trousers. I hated how fine he was. he held out a simple shopping bag from a boutique I recognized but could never afford.

"Get dressed," he said, his voice flat. "I'll be downstairs."

He didn't wait for a reply. I looked inside the bag. It was a light blue sundress and a pair of simple leather sandals. It was casual, expensive, and not my style at all. He wasn't just telling me what to wear; he was telling me who to be. I put the clothes on. It was a means to an end.

Once dressed, I hesitated at the door. He was expecting me downstairs. This was my chance. I slipped out of the room and went in the opposite direction, down the wide, empty hallway. The third door was slightly ajar. His office.

The room was neat, dominated by a massive dark wood desk. My eyes scanned the surface for anything—a letter, a file, a name. Then I saw it. On the corner of his desk sat a detailed wooden model of a skyscraper. It was smaller than the one my father made me, but it was unmistakably the same building: Veyron Grand Tower.

Why would he have one? Was it just a corporate paperweight? My father was meticulous. He built things with purpose. I picked it up, my fingers tracing the familiar lines. The base felt solid. As I turned it over, my thumb pressed against a seam I hadn't noticed. There was a faint click. A tiny section of the base loosened.

"Find what you were looking for?"

The voice was quiet, right behind me. I froze, my heart slamming into my throat. I hadn't heard him approach. I slowly turned, the wooden model still in my hands. Damien stood in the doorway, his arms crossed. His expression wasn't angry. It was cold, curious, and infinitely more dangerous.

Damien pov:

My phone buzzed on the desk. Charlotte. For the tenth time.

I finally answered, leaning back in my leather chair. “What?”

“Damien, baby, I’ve been so worried! You left so fast. Is everything okay? Is she gone?” Her voice was a syrupy performance of concern.

The pretense was exhausting. I’d been looking for a way out of this arrangement for years. The alliance between the Veyrons and the Thompsons was a political necessity my parents valued, but Charlotte was liability. I needed a clean break, and her little stunt was a perfect excuse.

We’re done, Charlotte,” I said, my voice flat. There was no room for negotiation in my tone.

“But—but your mother! Our families”

“Do you really think that if I told my mum what you pulled , you would be forgiven ?,” I said. “Stay away from me.

I hung up before she could start screaming. It was done. One problem solved.

I’d been waiting downstairs for ten minutes. Katherine should have been down by now. A flicker of irritation went through me. I didn't like to be kept waiting. I took the stairs two at a time, my footsteps silent on the thick runners. The guest room door was open. She wasn't there.

I knew immediately where she'd be.

I found her in my office, her back to me. She was holding the scale model of the Grand Tower, the one my father had given me on my eighteenth birthday. A symbol of our family's legacy. She was running her hands over it like she knew it.

I watched her for a moment. What was her angle? What was this girl's game? I knew there was a reason why she suddenly made her appearance at my party.

Then I saw her thumb press into the base. I heard the click.

"Find what you were looking for?" I asked, my voice low.

She went rigid, then turned around slowly, the model clutched in her hands like a weapon. Fear flashed in her eyes, but she smothered it instantly, replacing it with a hard defiance that was becoming familiar. She just stared back at me, caught.

The game had just gotten more interesting.