Feeling insane
1081 Words
(Damien’s POV)
Damien Cross could not stay in his own house. Every time he walked down the hallway, he smelled that faint scent of vanilla. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Mia’s big, brown eyes looking at him with fear.
He was a man of logic. He was a man who controlled billions of dollars. But right now, he couldn't even control his own heartbeat.
"Damn it," he hissed, grabbing his car keys.
He didn't say goodbye to Mia. He didn't check on her. He just walked out, got into his fast black sports car, and drove until the city lights became a blur. He needed to get away from her. He needed to remember who he was.
Ten minutes later, he pulled up to The Velvet Room, a private club where only the richest men in the city were allowed. He didn't want to be alone with his thoughts. He needed a drink, and he needed his friends to tell him he was acting like a fool.
Inside the club, the lights were low and the music was soft. In a private corner, two men were already waiting for him.
The first was Marcus, a famous lawyer who had been Damien’s best friend since they were kids. The second was Leo, a playboy who owned half the hotels in the country.
"Look who finally showed up," Leo said with a grin, holding up a glass. "The man of the hour. Or should I say, the new husband?"
Damien sat down heavily and signaled the waiter for a double scotch. "Don't start, Leo. It's just a contract and you know that."
Marcus looked at Damien closely. He was a lawyer, so he was good at reading people. "You look terrible, Damien. Is the girl giving you trouble so soon? Did she ask for more money already?"
Damien shook his head. "No. That's the problem. She doesn't ask for anything. She just... sits there. She looks at me like I'm a monster, and then she looks away like she's about to cry."
"She’s probably just scared," Marcus said simply. "You’re not exactly a sunshine person, Damien. You’re cold, you’re rich, and you just bought her life. Most people would be shaking."
"It’s not just that," Damien said, his voice dropping. He looked at his drink. "When I touch her just to help her or move her, my heart starts racing. It’s like my body knows her, but my mind doesn't. It’s making me lose my focus."
Leo laughed, a very annoying laugh, leaning back in his chair. "Maybe you’re just attracted to her, buddy. It happens. Sometimes the quiet ones are the ones who get under your skin."
"It’s not attraction," Damien snapped, his eyes flashing with anger. "I’m looking for the woman from the hotel. The woman who stayed with me that night. She was bold. She was fire. Mia is... she’s like a wounded bird. They are nothing alike."
"Then why are you here?" Marcus asked quietly. "If she’s just a tool for your contract, why are you at a bar at eleven o'clock at night trying to drown out the thought of her?"
Damien didn't have an answer. He hated that he didn't have an answer.
"She’s hiding something," Damien said instead, trying to sound firm. "I see her in the mornings. She’s pale. She’s always clutching her stomach like she’s in pain. I think she’s sick and she didn't tell me. If she’s sick, she’s a liability."
"Or maybe she's just not eating," Leo suggested. "You said she was poor, right? Maybe she’s just overwhelmed by the mansion."
"I don't care what it is," Damien said, finishing his drink in one go. "I need to stay focused. Richard is watching me. I can't let a girl with pretty eyes and a sad story make me weak."
"Then treat her like an employee," Marcus advised. "Be professional. Don't touch her. Don't look at her more than you have to. Finish the year, pay her off, and let her go."
Let her go. The words felt wrong in Damien’s chest. He should want to let her go. He should want this year to be over. But as he sat there with his friends, all he could think about was going back to the mansion to see if she was still awake. He wanted to know if she was still pale. He wanted to know why she was crying.
"I'm going home," Damien said suddenly, standing up.
"You just got here!" Leo shouted, but Damien was already walking away.
As he drove back to the mansion, Damien gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. He was going to be cold. He was going to be a boss, not a husband. He would find out what she was hiding, and he would make sure she stayed in her place.
But when he walked through the front door and saw a single light on in the kitchen, his heart skipped a beat again.
He walked softly toward the light. He saw Mia sitting at the large marble island. She had a glass of water in her hand, and she was staring at nothing. She looked so small in the giant kitchen. She looked like she was carrying the weight of the entire world.
He wanted to go to her. He wanted to ask her what was wrong.
Instead, he hardened his face. He remembered Marcus’s advice.
"Why are you still up?" he asked, his voice echoing like ice in the quiet room.
Mia jumped, nearly dropping her glass. "Mr. Cross! I... I couldn't sleep."
"Go to bed," he said, not looking at her. "You have a busy day tomorrow. We have a photo shoot for the newspapers. If you look tired, the cameras will see it. Don't ruin my image."
He saw her flinch. He saw the way her lip trembled. It hurt him to see it, but he forced himself to stay cold.
"Yes, sir," she whispered. She put the glass down and hurried past him.
As she passed, the scent of vanilla filled his nose again. Damien stood in the dark kitchen long after she was gone, his heart beating fast, hating himself for the lie he was living.
- Writer
