The Confrontation
1227 Words
* "You don’t know me anymore, Damien." *
I turned away and re-entered the crowd, the words still hanging in the air. My look was composed, but my heart was racing. Managed. Unmoved.
Indifference was the medicine I had given him.
Damien Lancaster, however, was never one to give up easily.
Before I saw him, I could feel him. A change in the atmosphere, an approaching presence.
Then—
My wrist was firmly grasped, and I was pulled into the darkness.
Before I could even react, my back struck a marble column's chilly surface. The smell of warmth, something I used to know all too well—cedar, whiskey, and something unmistakably him—made my breath catch.
Damien.
Close.
Too near.
"You think you can just walk away from me?" He had a low, menacing voice that made me shudder.
I c****d an unimpressed head. "Let me go, Damien."
He didn't. Firm but not painful, his fingers curved around my wrist. Something I couldn't quite identify darkened his blue eyes as they burned into mine.
He said, "Why are you here?"
I raised an eyebrow. "A gala is being held. I received an invitation.
"Don’t play games with me, Serena." He tightened his jaw. "You walk in here like a ghost from the past, act like I don’t exist, and expect me to stay silent?"
Slowly and cruelly, I smiled. "You were silent when it mattered."
That was spot on. Something flickering—guilt? His eyes blazed with regret.
Excellent. Let it drown him.
With one hand braced against the column next to my head, he confined me while I attempted to struggle free. Unspoken words filled the crackling air between us.
"You don’t get to pretend I don’t exist," he continued in a coarser, quieter voice.
I chuckled. "Oh, but I can." I looked him in the eye and spoke slowly and deliberately. "Because to me, Damien Lancaster, you are nothing."
His body froze.
We merely stared at one another for a while. The man who once promised me eternity and who once owned my heart is now standing in front of me, helpless.
He also detested it.
His shoulders were tense, and his fingers balled into a fist. "You want to hurt me, is that it?"
Just enough for my breath to ghost against his cheek, I leaned in a little. "Damien, no. I want you to be in pain.
He stood there, shaken and angry, as I rushed by him, my heels clicking against the floor.
However, his following comments stopped me cold before I had even taken stekrab* "You had my child, didn’t you?" *
Quiet.
The sounds of laughter and music faded into the background as the world around me became hazy.
I turned slowly. "What did you just say?"
Damien was now closely observing me, as though he was examining each response and breath. Something deeper had replaced the rage in his face.
When he said, "You disappeared for five years," his voice was low. "I looked for you. Rumors circulated. Whispers about a prison-born child. His eyes grew gloomy. "Is it true?"
My lips twisted into a slow, lethal smile. "Why? Would anything change as a result?
He clenched his jaw. "Answer me, Serena."
I stepped forward, c*****g my head as though weighing his request. Then I whispered— in the coldest voice I could manage—
"You lost the right to ask me anything the day you let them take me away."
Something wild and frantic blazed in his gaze.
Power was no longer the only factor here. It was intimate.
Determined to get out, I turned again, but his hand sprang out and grabbed my wrist again.
"You’re not walking away from this." His tone had darkened, with a hint of something nearly insane.
I yanked my arm back with more force than before. "I already did."
As though struggling to maintain control, his fingers curled and his chest rose and sank abruptly. He repeated, "You had a child," more to himself than to me.
I remained silent.
Like I had done for years, I wanted him to drown in the unknown and choke on his doubt.
He released his breath slowly. "Serena, tell me the truth. Am I—"
A voice cut in. "Is everything alright here?"
The man I had aligned myself with, **Alexander Steele**, was standing a few feet away when I turned around. His presence was powerful, and his crisp suit was flawless. However, what he stood for was more important than his mere presence.
**Power.**
An outright danger to Damien.
Damien's whole body went tense, and I saw his eyes shift to Alexander like a wolf spotting an enemy.
Damien stated, "This is a private conversation," in a deadly tone.
Alexander didn’t even flinch. "She doesn’t look interested in talking to you."
Damien’s jaw tightened, his control weakening, but I saw it—the possessiveness in his gaze. The resentment that someone else had came between him and me.
Perfect.
I glanced at Alexander, allowing a gradual smile to curve my lips. "I was just leaving."
Damien’s attention snapped to mine. "Serena—"
I didn’t wait. I put my hand into Alexander’s outstretched arm, letting him pull me away.
Damien did not stay behind.
But I could sense his intense gaze piercing my back.
I also understood that this was not the end.
By no means.
Just as I was about to exit the ballroom, a deep voice whispered in my ear.
"That was reckless, Serena."
Alexander guided me toward the patio as I glanced up at him. I could sense the weight of his protection despite his gentle and polite touch.
I answered calmly, "Damien needed to be put in his place," even though my heart was still pounding.
Alexander looked at me, evaluating. "He won’t take this lightly."
I whispered, "Good," as I turned to face the city lights. "Let him lose sleep over it."
But even as I said it, I could feel it—the electric charge that hadn’t left me since Damien’s fingers had curled around my wrist.
The way his voice had broken, just slightly, on the phrase *child.*
The part of me that, despite my hatred for it, still hurt.
Alexander took a step forward. "Serena, if you need protection—"
A collision.
Behind us, there was the sound of glass breaking.
Just as I turned around, Damien was standing there staring at me, his chest rising and falling as though he had just battled through a hurricane.
None of us moved for a long time.
Then, with one smooth gesture, Damien grabbed a glass of whiskey from a waiter who was walking by, gulped it down in a rage, and slammed it back onto the tray.
"Enjoying yourself, Serena?" He spoke in a dangerously composed tone.
I raised my chin. "Immensely."
Something that wasn't quite a smile curved his lips. "You always did love playing with fire."
"And you always did hate losing," I shot back.
The air between us was suffocating.
Then Damien took an unexpected action.
He **smirked.**
A sly, knowing smirk that drove chills down my spine.
"Alright," he responded easily, adjusting his cufflinks. "If it’s a war you want, Serena—"
With his eyes fixed on mine, he stepped forward.
"Then it’s a war you’ll get."
- Writer
