Uncle Damian, I'm Yours

A Deal with the Devil

Ariana

Margaret's hand was still frozen in the air, her face a mask of shock. Victoria and Cassandra had gone pale, their eyes fixed on Damian like he was a predator who'd just stepped into their territory. Because he was.

Damian moved forward with the calm, measured stride of a man who owned every space he entered. His eyes never left Margaret, and the fury in them made my skin prickle. I'd seen him confident, dominant, even tender. But this was pure controlled rage.

"Mr. Blackthorne," Margaret stammered, lowering her hand. "I didn't realize you were, we were just.."

"Assaulting a woman on her own property?" His voice was quiet, deadly. "Is that what you call family values, Mrs. Sterling?"

"This is a private matter," Victoria tried, stepping forward. "A family issue."

"She's not family anymore," Cassandra added quickly, clutching her new ring like a shield.

Damian's laugh was cold enough to freeze blood. "No, she's not. Which means you have absolutely no right to touch her or her belongings. But let's talk about family, shall we?" He turned his attention to Margaret. "Where's your son? Too much of a coward to face the woman he discarded?"

"Ethan is at work," Margaret said stiffly. "Where successful people belong."

"Successful." Damian repeated the word like it tasted bitter. "Is that what we're calling it? Because from where I stand, your son is barely competent. The only reason he got that promotion was because I needed someone disposable in that position. Someone I could replace without consequence."

Margaret's face went red. "How dare you.."

"Oh, I dare." He stepped closer, and she actually backed away. "I dare because I know things, Mrs. Sterling. Like how your husband's company nearly collapsed three years ago due to embezzlement. My company bailed you out, quietly, to avoid scandal. Or how Victoria's husband is currently under investigation for insider trading. Or how James has been skimming from the family trust for his gambling debts."

Victoria gasped. "You can't prove any of that."

"Can't I?" Damian's smile was sharp as a blade. "I have lawyers who live for this. Accountants who can trace every dirty dollar. One phone call, and your entire family becomes front-page news. Is that what you want?"

Silence fell like a hammer. I stood there, forgotten, watching this man dismantle the family that had tormented me with nothing but words and the weight of his presence.

"Now," Damian continued, his voice dropping lower, "you're going to pack Ariana's belongings properly. Every single item. You're going to load them carefully into my car. And you're going to apologize for putting your hands on her."

"We will do no such thing," Margaret hissed.

Damian pulled out his phone. "Then I make the call. Your choice."

The fight drained from Margaret's face. She looked at Victoria, then at Cassandra, and finally at the mess they'd made of my life scattered across the lawn. "Fine," she said through gritted teeth. "Girls, help me."

They moved like puppets, gathering my things with jerky, angry movements. None of them looked at me. None of them apologized. But they did it, every item carefully placed in boxes and bags, loading them into Damian's sleek black car.

When they finished, Damian turned to me. "Get in the car, Ariana."

"I can handle this myself," I said, but my voice shook. My cheek still burned where Margaret had struck me.

"No, you can't. Not today." His hand found the small of my back, gentle but firm, guiding me toward the passenger seat. "Let me help you."

I wanted to argue, to prove I didn't need saving. But the truth was, I had nothing left. No home, no money, no strength. So I got in the car. Damian slid into the driver's seat, and we pulled away from the house I'd once called home. I watched it disappear in the side mirror, feeling nothing but emptiness.

The silence in the car was suffocating. I could feel him looking at me, could sense the tension crackling between us like electricity. Anger, attraction, confusion, all of it mixing into something I couldn't name.

"Why did you follow me?" I finally asked.

"Because I knew you'd need help." His hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. "And I was right."

"I don't need you to fight my battles."

"Then why are you sitting in my car instead of standing up to them yourself?" The words were harsh but honest. "You're not weak, Ariana. But you're hurt and alone, and they know it. They'll keep coming for you unless someone makes them stop."

"And you're that someone?" I turned to look at him, really look at him. "Why? What do you want from me?"

His jaw tightened. "Nothing you're not willing to give."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only answer I have right now." He pulled into the parking garage of a high-rise building, cutting the engine. "Come upstairs. Let me get you cleaned up, and we'll talk."

I should have said no. Should have demanded he take me to a hotel, anywhere but another space he controlled. But I was so tired, so broken, that I just nodded.

His penthouse was different in daylight. Warmer, somehow. Floor-to-ceiling windows showed the city sprawled below, and the furniture was modern but comfortable. He led me to a guest room, the bed already made with crisp white sheets.

"There's a bathroom through there," he said, pointing. "Take your time. I'll make coffee."

I cleaned the blood from my lip, washed my face, and stared at my reflection. The woman looking back at me had hollow eyes and a red mark blooming on her cheek. I looked like a ghost of who I used to be.

When I emerged, Damian was in the kitchen, two mugs of coffee on the counter. He'd removed his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves. The domestic scene felt surreal after everything.

"Sit," he said, sliding a mug toward me.

I sat on one of the bar stools, wrapping my hands around the warmth. "I still don't understand why you're doing this."

"Because I want to help you." He leaned against the counter across from me. "And because I think we can help each other."

"How?"

"You need resources. Protection. Power to fight back against the people who've hurt you." His eyes held mine, intense and searching. "I can give you all of that."

"In exchange for what?" Suspicion crept into my voice. "Nothing's free, especially not from men like you."

"Men like me." A bitter smile crossed his face. "You're right to be cautious. But what I want isn't what you think. I want you to stay close to me. Work with me. Let me handle your enemies while you rebuild your life."

"Why would you do that? You don't even know me."

"Don't I?" He moved around the counter, stopping just close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. "I know you've been hurt. I know you're stronger than you realize. And I know there's more to your story than a failed marriage."

Tears pricked my eyes. "You don't know anything about my story."

"Then tell me."

The words hung between us. I should have stayed silent, should have kept my pain buried where it belonged. But something about the way he looked at me, the way he'd stood up for me when no one else would, broke through my defenses.

"I don't have family," I whispered. "Not real family. I grew up in foster care after my parents disappeared when I was seven. One day they were there, and the next, they were gone. No bodies, no explanations, just gone. The authorities said they abandoned me, but I never believed it."

Damian's expression softened, something dark and protective flickering in his eyes. "What do you believe?"

"I believe something happened to them. Something bad. I spent years searching for answers, but I had no resources, no connections. When I met Ethan, I thought maybe I could finally have a family again. But they never wanted me. They just tolerated me because I was convenient."

"They're fools." His hand reached out, fingers gently touching my bruised cheek. "And your parents, someone knows what happened to them. Someone always knows."

"I've accepted that I'll never find out." The words tasted like ash. "Some questions don't have answers."

"What if I told you I could help you find those answers?" His voice dropped lower, more intense. "I have resources you can't imagine. Investigators, hackers, people who can dig into records that don't officially exist. Let me help you find the family they stole from you."

My heart stuttered. "Why would you do that?"

"Because you deserve the truth. And because I want you to stay." His thumb traced my cheekbone, the touch sending shivers down my spine. "Stay close to me. Let me protect you. Let me help you get revenge on the people who've hurt you and find the family you lost. Work with me, Ariana."

It felt wrong, using his resources, his power. It felt like making a deal with the devil. But the promise in his eyes, the possibility of finally knowing what happened to my parents, was too tempting to resist.

"What do you get out of this?" I asked quietly.

"You." The word was simple, honest, terrifying. "I get you in my life. That's all I want."

I should have been afraid of the intensity in his voice, the possessiveness. But instead, I felt something else. Hope, maybe. Or just desperation dressed up as courage.

"Okay," I whispered. "I'll stay. I'll work with you. Help me find my family, and I'll let you handle the Sterlings."

Something flashed in his eyes, triumphant and dark. "You won't regret this."

"I already do," I admitted. "But I'm out of options."

He stepped back, giving me space. "The guest room is yours for as long as you need it. Get some rest. We'll start planning tomorrow."

I nodded and retreated to the guest room, closing the door behind me. The bed was soft, the sheets smelled like expensive detergent, and exhaustion pulled at me like an undertow. I crawled under the covers and closed my eyes, trying not to think about what I'd just agreed to. Sleep came quickly, dragging me under into darkness.

I didn't hear the door open hours later. Didn't feel the presence standing in the doorway, watching me sleep. Didn't hear the whispered words that slipped through the quiet.

"I should stay away from you... but I can't."