Her Mother's Sin

Chapter 5:Memory games

Chapter 5: Memory Games

Isolde sat at the long table in Damien's study. Papers covered every inch. Her coffee had gone cold an hour ago. The collar felt tighter today. Or maybe she just noticed it more. Damien paced behind her. His presence filled the room like smoke.

"Again" he said. "The conversation from last month. When Kieran came home smelling like scotch and said the deal was almost done. Exact words Isolde. Do not skip anything."

She rubbed her temples. "He said the transfer would clear by Friday. Seven point eight million into the offshore account. Then he laughed and told me not to worry my pretty head about it. Said older women understand these things better anyway."

Damien stopped pacing. His hand landed on her shoulder. Heavy. "Older women. He meant your mother."

"Yeah." Isolde's voice went flat. "I did not get it then. Now it makes sense. Every late night. Every time he smelled like her perfume."

Damien squeezed once then let go. He dropped into the chair next to her. Their knees touched under the table. "Keep going. What else did he say about the accounts?"

"He mentioned Blackthorn Bank specifically. Said they would never notice because the system had holes. He called you... what was it." She closed her eyes. The memory played clear as a movie. "He called you an arrogant prick who deserved to lose it. Said you think money makes you untouchable."

Damien laughed low. No humor in it. "He was right about one thing. I am untouchable. Now." His fingers brushed her thigh. Casual. Like he did not even think about it. "And you are helping me prove it."

Isolde shifted away. Not far. The collar gave a little pulse. Warm. Warning. "I am not doing this for you. I am doing it to watch them burn."

"Good enough for now." He leaned closer. Breath warm against her ear. "Tell me about the drunk texts again. The ones where he described f*****g you."

"Why?" She turned to face him. Cheeks hot. "That has nothing to do with the money."

"It has everything to do with you." Damien's eyes held hers. Dark. Hungry. "I need to know how deep he got inside your head. So I can pull him out."

Isolde looked down at the papers. "He said he wanted to bend me over the kitchen counter while my mom was in the next room. Said it would be hot knowing she could hear. Then he asked if I would call him daddy while he did it."

Damien went still. "And you answered?"

"I said maybe. I was turned on okay. It was late. I was lonely." She pushed a paper away hard. "Stop making me relive it."

"I am not making you. You are choosing to remember." He caught her wrist. Gentle this time. "The collar says your heart rate goes up when you talk about it. Not just anger."

"You are sick." But she did not pull away. Last night kept flashing back. His hands. His mouth. The way he took control when she felt like nothing.

Damien pulled her chair closer. "Maybe. But I am honest. Unlike him." His thumb stroked the inside of her wrist. "Tell me what you need right now Isolde. Truth."

She swallowed. The collar hummed. "I need to not feel like an i***t anymore. I need to stop seeing them every time I close my eyes."

"Then let me give you something else to feel." He stood and pulled her up with him. Bodies close. Too close. "Work can wait ten minutes."

"Ten minutes?" She tried to laugh. It came out shaky. "That is all I am worth today?"

"You are worth more." His hand slid to her waist. Under the shirt. Skin on skin. "But I am not patient when I want something."

Isolde pushed at his chest. Half hearted. "We have work. The Ponzi. My mom might call again."

"Let her." Damien backed her against the table. Papers crinkled under her. "Tell me to stop and I walk away right now."

She did not say stop.

Instead she grabbed his shirt and pulled him down. "Make it hurt a little. So I forget."

He kissed her hard. No whiskey this time. Just pure control. His hands moved fast. Lifting her onto the table. Spreading her legs. The collar lit up with every touch. Sending sparks through her body that made her gasp into his mouth.

"You are so f*****g responsive" he muttered against her neck. "Even when you hate me."

"I do hate you." She arched when he touched her where she was already wet. "This does not change that."

Damien laughed against her skin. "Keep telling yourself that." He pushed inside her in one slow thrust. "But your body knows better."

Isolde moaned. Loud. No shame left. The table creaked under them. Papers fell to the floor. She wrapped her legs around him. Nails digging into his back. "Harder Damien. Please."

He gave her what she asked for. Rough. Deep. The collar fed pleasure back with every thrust. Making everything sharper. Making her lose control faster than she wanted.

"Tell me who you belong to right now" he growled.

"You" she gasped. "For the year. Just the year."

His rhythm faltered for a second. Like the words hit him somewhere. Then he took her harder. "Good girl."

They finished together. Messy. Breathing hard. He stayed inside her for a long moment. Forehead against hers.

Isolde closed her eyes. "This is going to destroy me."

"No" he said. Voice rough. "This is going to remake you."

He pulled out slowly. Helped her off the table. Fixed her clothes with surprising gentleness.

"Now" he said. "Back to work. Tell me about the second account he mentioned. The one in Switzerland."

Isolde sat down on shaky legs. She started talking again. Numbers. Dates. Lies Kieran told her. Every detail sharp in her mind.

But something felt different now. The collar stayed warm. Almost comforting. And when her phone lit up with her mom's name again she did not flinch as hard.

Damien watched her. "Answer it. Put it on speaker. Let her hear you are busy."

Isolde picked up. "What do you want Mom?"

Victoria's voice came through. Shaky. "Baby please come home. Kieran is here. He wants to apologize. We both do. This is not what it looks like."

Isolde looked at Damien. He nodded once.

"It looks exactly like what it is" she said. Voice stronger than she felt. "And I am done. Do not call me again."

She hung up.

Damien smiled. Small. Proud. "Good. Now where were we?"

They worked for another hour. Her memory kept giving him exactly what he needed. But every time their hands brushed or he looked at her too long the collar reminded her.

This was not just work anymore.

Later when Damien stepped out to take a call Isolde picked up her phone. A new message from an unknown number.

"We know where you are. The collar will not save you. Come home or we tell everyone what you did."

Her blood ran cold.

She deleted it fast. But the words stayed. Burned in.

Who sent that? Kieran? Her mom? Someone worse?

The study door opened. Damien walked back in. "Everything okay?"

Isolde forced a smile. "Yeah. Just tired."

She went back to the papers. But inside her head the question kept spinning.

How deep did this really go?