Chapter 13 : Breaking the Surface
1008 Words
The next morning, I sat at the counter, swirling a glass of orange juice in my hand, my stomach doing somersaults as the events of the night before played in my head. Damon’s cold demeanor, the trembling man in the garage, his promise to do “whatever it takes”—it all left me with an uneasy feeling I couldn’t shake.
The elevator dinged softly, pulling me out of my thoughts. Damon stepped out, freshly showered and dressed in a crisp suit, his tie perfectly knotted. His face gave nothing away.
“Good morning,” he said casually, pouring himself a cup of coffee as if nothing was wrong.
“Morning,” I replied, setting my glass down. I studied him for a moment, trying to find any hint of the man I’d seen last night, the one who could freeze a room with his presence. He was back to being calm and unreadable, and it frustrated me.
“We need to talk,” I said, my voice firmer than I’d intended.
Damon glanced at me over the rim of his mug. “About what?”
“Last night,” I said. “About what I saw. About everything.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Everything? That’s a bit broad, don’t you think?”
“Don’t do that,” I snapped, surprising even myself. “Don’t act like this is just another day at the office. You dragged me downstairs to see that man, Damon. Why?”
He set his mug down and folded his arms across his chest. For a moment, I thought he might brush me off, but then he sighed. “I wanted you to see the kind of world you’re in now.”
“And scaring the hell out of some poor guy was supposed to do that?”
“That ‘poor guy’,” Damon said, his voice sharp, “is the reason Marco knows so much about us. About you. About the baby.”
His words hit me like a punch to the gut. “What?”
“He’s been feeding Marco information for months,” Damon continued. “Including the fact that you’re pregnant—something Marco knew before I even had a chance to tell anyone.”
My stomach turned, and I gripped the edge of the counter to steady myself. “How is that even possible? How does Marco know so much about our lives?”
“Marco’s always been one step ahead,” Damon said, his tone dark. “But this? This is personal. He’s targeting you to get to me.”
The weight of his words pressed down on me. “What are you going to do?”
Damon’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. You and the baby.”
The way he said it sent a shiver through me. I wanted to believe him, but there was something about the cold finality in his voice that scared me.
“Safe,” I repeated quietly, the word tasting bitter in my mouth. “You keep saying that, Damon, but this doesn’t feel like safety. It feels like control. Like I’m just another one of your assets to protect.”
Damon’s eyes flashed with something I couldn’t quite name—anger, maybe, or guilt. He stepped closer, his voice low. “If that’s what you think, then you don’t understand me at all.”
“Then help me understand,” I said, my voice soft but steady.
For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. He just looked at me, his piercing gaze seeming to search for something. Finally, he spoke. “Marco isn’t just a rival, Neeah. He’s a threat to everything I’ve built. My family’s name, my business, my people—you. He’s not playing games. If he sees a weakness, he’ll exploit it. And right now, you’re his biggest target.”
I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around the edge of the counter. “You think I’m a weakness.”
“No,” Damon said firmly, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. “You’re not a weakness. But you’re important to me. And that makes you a target.”
The honesty in his words caught me off guard. For once, there was no pretense, no guarded tone. Just Damon, raw and real.
“I can’t live like this, Damon,” I said after a long silence. “I need some control over my own life. You can’t just keep me locked away forever.”
“What are you asking for?” he asked, his tone cautious.
I hesitated, then took a deep breath. “I want to see my parents. I need to tell them about the baby in person. They deserve that much.”
His expression darkened instantly. “That’s out of the question. It’s too dangerous.”
“They’re my parents,” I said, my voice rising slightly. “I can’t just send them a text or make a phone call. This is their grandchild, Damon. They deserve to hear it from me.”
“You’re not thinking this through,” he said, his tone cold. “Marco’s men could be watching. The second you step out of this building, you’re vulnerable.”
“I’m not asking for your permission,” I said, surprising both of us with my boldness. “I’m telling you what I need. And I need this.”
His jaw tightened, and I could see the conflict in his eyes. For a moment, I thought he might refuse outright, but then he sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair.
“Fine,” he said finally. “But we do this my way. I’ll make the arrangements, and Vinnie will come with us. This isn’t negotiable.”
Relief washed over me, and I nodded quickly. “Thank you.” the
Damon shook his head, muttering under his breath. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
Despite the tension, I couldn’t help but smile.
- Writer
