Unfinished Business
1038 Words
* "Tell me, Serena—does lying to yourself make it easier to sleep at night?" *
His voice had the smoothness of silk with a razor-sharp edge. My fingers clenched over my handbag handle as I paused in my penthouse doorway.
On my couch sat Damien Lancaster. In **my** house.
As though he was at home there.
The boldness.
I forced myself to remain calm as I gently breathed. "Are you now breaking into my place? I had no idea how desperate you were for my attention.
At the corner of his lips, a smirk tugged. "I don’t need to break in when I own the building."
I tightened my jaw. He did, of course.
"Get out."
Fully relaxed, he leaned back with one arm slung over the couch. "Not until we talk."
"There’s nothing to talk about." I closed the door behind me and took another step inside. "You lost that privilege five years ago."
His laughter faded, and he let out a quick exhale. "You vanished. No trace, no warning. "And now, as though you had never left, you waltz back into my world?" I was fixed in place by his ebony eyes. "You don’t get to pretend like I don’t exist."
I crossed my arms and dropped my purse on the counter. "I don't need to act fake. For me, you ceased to exist. "
I interrupted myself.
The instant you ruined me.
I wouldn't say it out, though. Wouldn't satisfy him in that way.
Something fluid something flickers eyes—**guilt? Regret? **—but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.
"Serena, you can tell lies to everyone else. However, you cannot deceive me.
Sharp and humorless, I laughed. "You think you still know me?"
"I do."
I walked slowly in his direction. "So you ought to be aware that the woman you're seeking? She is no longer there.
He looked at me for a while. Then, with slack confidence, he stood up and drew closer.
He said, "You can say that all you want," in a low voice. "How did you look at me last night, though? That wasn't a lack of interest.
My heart struck my ribs hard.
He was too near.
Too much.
I tilted my chin, meeting his gaze head-on. "And what do you think it was?"
His gaze grew gloomy. "Unfinished business."
I felt a chill of danger, but I was not going to be weak.
The words "Leave," I said icily.
He raised an eyebrow. "Make me."
I balled my fists up. "Damien—"
His phone buzzed in his pocket, cutting me off. He continued to observe me without checking it right away. Researching me.
Then, slowly grinning, he took out the phone and looked at the screen. Then his whole face transformed.
His effortless cockiness disappeared. He clenched his jaw.
And he appeared genuinely **pissed** tonight for the first time.
I scowled. "What?"
With a short exhale, he rotated the screen to face me.
Before I could even comprehend the name flashing across the screen, he responded.
"Alexander," with a cold demeanor.
I felt sick to my stomach.
"Damien," Alexander said in a calm, well-controlled voice that radiated from the speaker. "Didn’t expect you to pick up."
"Then why call?"
A quiet laugh. "Just wanted to check in. You appeared anxious during the gala.
Damien never took his eyes off of mine. "You should know better than to poke a bear, Steele."
Alexander hummed. "Oh, but I **love** seeing how far I can push you." Silence for a beat. Afterward— my office not too far."
I tensed up.
Damien gripped the phone more tightly. "I know."
"Then you also know she’s under my protection now."
The room echoed with a piercing **crack**.
I didn't see for a moment that Damien had **snapped his glass in his palm. **
His palm was cut by a piece of glass, and red liquid poured down his fingers.
He didn't flinch at all.
I took a deep breath.
Alexander gave a somber laugh. "Be careful, Damien. You're bleeding.
Damien remained silent. Reached for a napkin quietly and wrapped it over his palm without averting his gaze from me.
"I don’t need your warnings, Steele," he replied. "And Serena doesn’t need your protection."
"Doesn’t she?"
His tone tightened my stomach for some reason.
Damien tightened his jaw. "Stay the hell out of this."
Alexander laughed slowly and mockingly. "I would, but…" He let out a sigh. "You made it personal."
The connection crackled with silence.
Alexander then said in a low, mocking tone.
"Damien, you lost her. And I'll like seeing you come to that realization."
Click.
The call was cut off.
I turned aside and let out a quiet breath, but Damien caught my wrist before I could go.
"Let go," I growled.
He didn't hold on tightly, but he also wasn't gentle.
"You think aligning yourself with him is a good idea?" Despite his controlled speech, his wrath was audible beneath it.
I pulled my arm away. "What I do isn’t your concern."
Something evil sparked in his gaze. "The hell it isn’t."
I moved away by taking a step back. "You need to accept the truth, Damien."
His mouth tightened. "And what truth is that?"
"That whatever we had? **It’s dead.**"
Quiet.
His jaw muscle twitched. He let out a quiet, measured breath, his face unreadable.
Then he took a step back.
I kind of thought he would go.
He didn't.
Rather, he extracted a little object—something silver—from his pocket.
Between us, he flung it upon the table.
A **key.**
I scowled. "What is that?"
He looked at me. "A reminder."
My stomach turned over. "Of what?"
There was a faint sneer on his lips, but his eyes were nearly dejected.
"That you’re still mine."
Before I could reply, before I had even had time to **think** about what he meant—
He walked out the door after turning.
With my heart pounding in my ears, I gazed at the key.
This key was familiar to me.
It was the first time I had held it.
And the accompanying memory?
**I never told Damien Lancaster that I loved him again. **
- Writer
