Strip
1105 Words
Damien’s eyes lingered on her a moment longer — still, unreadable. Then, without a word, he rose from the bed.
The movement was slow, deliberate. His tall frame cast a shadow that stretched across the carpet as he straightened to his full height. Elara’s breath hitched before she could stop it.
“Well,” he said finally, his voice low, even. “If you don’t know what I’m talking about…”
He paused mid-sentence, his gaze briefly flicking to her face before he turned away.
“…then I think you should leave now.”
The words struck her like a quiet slap — not loud, not cruel, but sharp enough to sting.
Her throat tightened, but she couldn’t look away as he reached for the buttons of his shirt. One by one, he undid them with unhurried precision, his fingers steady.
The soft sound of fabric shifting filled the silence between them.
He didn’t look at her while he did it. It was as if her presence had already ceased to matter.
Elara rose slowly to her feet, her legs trembling slightly from kneeling too long. Her mind screamed for her to move — to leave before she embarrassed herself further — but her body wouldn’t listen.
She just stood there, caught somewhere between pride and panic.
Damien turned then, his shirt now halfway undone, exposing the sharp lines of his chest. The lamplight slid over the faint scars across his skin — the remnants of something dangerous, something real.
He met her eyes briefly, his expression unreadable.
“You should go,” he said flatly, his tone quiet but final. “I need a shower.”
He reached for the remaining buttons, speaking almost to himself. “All that work… tends to leave a little blood behind and certainly can’t sleep with it on me.”
The words were calm — too calm — but they carried an edge that made her shiver.
Elara’s chest tightened. Her hands fidgeted at her sides, her face tense and pale.
She looked down, but the tremor in her breath betrayed her.
Damien noticed.
He wasn’t looking for it, but the moment her lips parted and her chest rose in that small, broken way — something flickered across his eyes. Something quick and almost human.
But it vanished just as fast.
He smirked faintly, turning away again as he muttered, “Such a Kid.”
The word hit her harder than he probably meant it to.
She blinked, her lashes wet, her throat tightening as something desperate clawed its way up her chest.
And then, quietly — as if she herself couldn’t believe she was saying it — Elara spoke.
“I’ll do it.”
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Damien froze mid-movement. His hands stilled at his shirt, his head turning slightly to glance at her over his shoulder.
A slow smirk spread across his lips. “You’ll do what, Elara?”
She swallowed, her fingers twisting together. “I’ll do what you’re asking.”
He turned fully this time, facing her, amusement flickering in his dark eyes.
“Well,” he murmured, voice edged with quiet irony, “I thought you said you didn’t know what I was talking about.”
Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment. Her hands clenched at her sides. She drew in a shaky breath — the kind that burned a little on its way in — and shook her head.
When she looked up again, there was something different in her eyes. A tired kind of defiance.
“Are you going to do it or not?” she asked, her voice trembling but steady enough to hold.
For a moment, Damien just stared at her — the room humming with silence so heavy it pressed into the walls.
Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he finished unbuttoning his shirt and let it fall from his shoulders.
His voice was low, calm, but there was something dangerous curling underneath it when he finally said —
Elara’s breath hitched when Damien’s voice cut through the silence.
“Very well, then,” he said quietly, his tone almost too calm. “Remove your clothes.”
She froze. Surely she hadn’t heard him right.
Her eyes flickered up to his face, but his expression didn’t change.
“I—”
Her voice faltered.
Damien tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “Are you sure you’re ready to do what I asked, or not?”
Elara swallowed hard, her fingers trembling as they brushed against the strap of her gown.
The air between them grew thick, her heart pounding so loud she could hear it in her ears.
Slowly—hesitantly—she began to loosen the strap, her throat tightening with every small movement.
Just as the fabric threatened to fall, Damien’s voice broke through again—softer this time.
“Come here.” he said
And her breath quivered as she took slow, careful steps, towards him.
Each one feeling heavier than the last.
When she finally reached him, Damien suddenly pulled her into his arms—holding her tight.
Elara stiffened, confused. His grip was firm, almost desperate, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to do with her hands.
When he finally released her and took a step back, his gaze locked with hers—steady and unreadable.
“Meet me at the marriage registry two weeks from now,” he said. “Eight a.m.”
Her brows furrowed. “I… I don’t understand. Marriage registry for what?”
Damien turned slightly, his eyes dark and certain. “I thought you said you knew what I wanted. That’s what I want in exchange for your father’s debt to be cleared.”
Elara’s mouth fell open. “Married? To you? But… that’s not possible. My father—he’ll want to know—”
“Do you want to save your father from this debt or not?” Damien’s voice rose just slightly, sharp enough to cut through her panic.
“I… I do, but this—this isn’t something I can just—”
“Well then,” he said coldly, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it aside before walking toward the inner door. “You have a choice, Elara. Marry me, and your father walks free. Or leave… and watch how we handle our debtors.”
He paused at the doorway, not looking back. “The choice is yours.”
Then he disappeared into the next room, the door shutting behind him, leaving Elara standing there—heart racing, mind spinning, and her gown still half-loosened
- Writer
