Another Preposition
1267 Words
Elara stood rooted to the spot long after Damien shut the bathroom door behind him.
The soft click echoed in her mind like the beginning of a nightmare she couldn’t wake up from.
A moment later, water thundered against the tiles, steady and unbroken. But the room felt anything but calm.
Her chest was tight—like way too tight.
And every breath she managed to pull in scraped against her ribs.
Her pulse pounded.
Her thoughts spiraled.
Fear tightened around her throat like a fist.
She stared at the bathroom door as though it might suddenly swing back open and take his words away, rewind the moment, undo everything.
But it stayed closed, and the decision he placed on her shoulders weighed heavier by the second.
Marry him… like marry Damien.
The thought hit her again, sharper this time, like a blade dragging slowly across her skin.
Her knees threatened to give way as fragments of her childhood—the fights, the rivalry, the endless tension—flooded her mind.
Damien wasn’t just some man.
He wasn’t even just a difficult man. He was the son of the person her father hated most in the world.
The boy she’d been warned never to trust. The son of the man who stood on the opposite side of every line her family had ever drawn.
“How could he even say that?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Her throat tightened painfully as the image of her father’s anger flashed vividly in her mind—the way his eyes would narrow, the way veins would stand out on his neck, the way his voice would drop to that low, trembling tone he only used when he felt betrayed.
And Elara knew—she knew—he would see this as the ultimate betrayal.
Could I really do that?
Is that even possible?
What if Father hears of it? What if he thinks I traded him… for Damien?
She dragged her fingers through her hair, pacing small circles around the room like a trapped animal.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
Her breath came out shaky, uneven.
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head again. “No, no, no… I can’t do that. That would be the most stupid decision of my entire life.”
Her father’s face appeared again—this time filled with disappointment instead of anger. And that hurt even more.
“He would kill me,” she muttered, her voice cracking. “He would kill himself before letting me marry Damien just to clear a debt.”
Her chest tightened, and her eyes pricked with tears she refused to let fall.
She squeezed her arms around herself, trying to hold her trembling body together.
Finally, she stopped pacing. She stood still, staring into nothing, as the truth solidified inside her like ice.
She lifted her chin, forced herself to breathe, and turned slowly toward the bathroom door.
“I’m sorry, Damien. I cannot marry you she mouthed.”
And she had barely finished speaking when the sound of water suddenly stopped.
Then a beat of silence.
Before the bathroom door swung open.
And Damien stepped out, steam curling behind him.
A towel hung low around his waist, droplets of water sliding over his chest, his abs, his shoulders.
His hair was damp, and a few strands resting against his forehead.
He grabbed another towel and started rubbing it through his hair with slow, careless movements.
He looked up at her.
“I didn’t hear you,” he said calmly, though something sharp glinted in his eyes.
“You said what?”
Elara swallowed, forcing herself not to look away.
“I said… I can’t marry you, Damien.”
He paused mid-motion after her words,but then continued toweling his hair as if nothing bothered him.
“Oh, really?” he murmured. “So you want your father to suffer in debt, right?” he asked
And her breath caught before replying.
“That’s not what I said,” she snapped, stepping back.
“I would never want that. But I can’t marry you. We don’t even like each other. We’ve been enemies for as long as I can remember, so why would you want to marry me.”
“That’s true,” Damien agreed, not bothered at all. He walked to the desk, opened a drawer, and casually pulled out his body spray, his lotion, and a comb.
He began rubbing lotion into his arms, shoulders, chest — slow movements that made the muscles in his body flex with every swipe.
Elara caught herself staring, and her face heated immediately.
Why does he have strong thighs like that? And his back? And why is he built like someone who works out for a living—
“Are you done checking me out?” Damien asked without looking at her.
And she almost choked on her own breath. “I— I wasn’t checking you out! Who told you that? Stop saying things you don’t know!”She said out hurriedly nervous.
As Damien let out a soft, amused huff.
“Whatever I know my body looks good so I don't mind you staring.”
She glared, but he ignored that too.
He capped the lotion, set it down, and turned to face her fully.
“So you cannot marry me, Elara,” he repeated, voice calm, and unreadable.
“Then what are we going to do? Because that is the only thing I want from you.
And you asked what I have to gain from marrying you…”
He continued as he stepped toward her, with slow, deliberate steps.
“Well, Elara,” he murmured, “a lot. I have a lot to gain.”
Her brows knitted. “Like what, Damien? What could you possibly gain from marrying me? Nothing. I know you just want to see me beneath—”
And before she could finish her sentence he closed the remaining space, and lifted her chin gently but firmly with his fingers, and cut her off.
“Exactly,” he whispered, lowering his head slightly to look directly into her eyes.
“I want to see you beneath me I want to stamp on you. I want you to understand that I am above you in every way and I want you to stop acting like you’re stronger, smarter, or better than me because those days are over.”
At his words Elara's breath shook and the intensity in his eyes made her stomach twist.
“Damien,” she whispered, “when did I ever treat you like trash? When did I ever do that?”she asked.
As he released her chin when she spoke, while also stepping back.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, his tone almost indifferent. “It’s in the past and I’m not interested in revisiting it.”
But something flashed in his eyes — something wounded, unresolved — before he blinked it away.
“Let’s move on,” he said, grabbing his watch from the desk. “I will give you another option another proposition.”
Elara’s arms folded defensively. “What proposition?”
“It involves five rules,” he said calmly. “If you follow all of them, I’ll take back the marriage offer are you ready to listen he asked.”
As Elara exhaled in relief “Fine. I’ll listen.
As long as it is not about me marrying you, Damien.
Damien’s lips curved — not quite a smile, but close.
“Good,” he murmured. “Then listen carefully.”
- Writer
