Chapter 15: The Devil & I Are Getting Back Together??
Ana kept her lips pressed firmly shut. She knew that if she opened her mouth, her shaky breath would expose exactly how undone she felt. She couldn’t let him see how much her body was betraying her.
Instead of arguing, she leaned forward, letting the cashmere blanket slide off her shoulders. Her eyes locked onto his, burning with pure venom.
She reached out, snatched the heavy silver pen from the table, and scribbled her signature at the bottom of the page without reading a single clause.
Anastasia Vance.
The moment she finished, she tossed the pen back across the table. It rolled and hit his tablet with a sharp clink.
"Satisfied?" She spat, her voice tight and laced with ice.
Damian didn’t flinch. He picked up the document, checking the signature with a slow, deliberate glance. A dark, victorious smirk spread across his face as he slid the paper back into his briefcase.
"Perfectly," Damian murmured, leaning back into his leather seat. He crossed his legs, his burning gaze dropping down to track the rapid rise and fall of her chest. "Welcome back to my world, Anastasia. Let’s see how long you survive it."
________________________
The private jet touched down in Manhattan with a heavy thud.
As the aircraft landed, Ana looked out the window. The skyline of New York loomed in the distance, looking less like a city and more like a massive, expensive cage.
Panic began to claw at her throat. The familiar streets, the cold city air, it was all rushing back, bringing a wave of suffocating memories from her failed marriage. Her hands grew ice-cold against her lap.
Across the aisle, Damian noticed. His dark eyes tracked the sudden paleness of her face and the way her breathing had turned shallow.
Without a word, he stood up. The moment the jet doors opened, he reached down, gripped her wrist in a tight, unyielding hold, and pulled her out of her seat.
"Damian, wait..." Ana stumbled, her small boots fumbling on the steps as he dragged her down the boarding ramp.
"Keep up, Anastasia," he commanded flatly. He didn’t look back, his long strides forcing her to practically run just to stay upright. "You chose to sign the contract. Don’t freeze up now."
A sleek black Maybach was waiting for them on the tarmac. Damian shoved her slightly into the backseat and climbed in right after her, the heavy door shutting out the noise of the airfield.
The drive through the city passed in a tense blur. Finally, the car pulled up to a massive, heavily guarded private estate hidden away in the Upper East Side, Damian’s personal den.
It was a dark, ultra-modern fortress of glass and black stone, looking more like a wolf’s lair than a home.
Damian got out first, wrapping his hand firmly around her wrist again the second she stepped out. He dragged her up the marble steps.
The massive double doors were thrown open by the house staff, but as soon as Ana walked into the grand foyer, she froze.
What... What is she doing here?
Standing at the top of the sweeping glass staircase was a woman.
She was stunning, dressed in a flawless, tailored designer dress. Her perfectly styled blonde hair fell over her shoulders, and she held a crystal glass of champagne in her hand as if she owned the place.
Vivian Stark.
Ana’s heart dropped. She knew exactly who Vivian was. The daughter of the primary investor in Sterling Enterprises, Vivian had spent years trying to get into Damian’s bed long before he had ever married Ana.
Vivian smiled elegantly as she began to walk down the stairs, but the moment her eyes landed on the woman attached to Damian’s wrist, her smile completely shattered. For a split second, a look of pure, vicious hatred flared in Vivian’s eyes, directed entirely at Ana.
But the moment Vivian looked at Damian, her expression flipped instantly. Her face softened into a picture of pure innocence and worry. She hurried down the remaining steps, setting her champagne glass on a side table.
"Damian!" Vivian gasped, her voice sweet and breathless.
Damian didn’t look pleased. His brow furrowed, his presence instantly turning hostile. "What are you doing in my house, Vivian?"
Vivian flinched slightly at his tone, but she quickly put on a pout, looking up at him with wide, concerned eyes. "I was just so worried about you, Damian. You disappeared for more than four days without telling anyone anything! The board was frantic, and I couldn’t just sit around doing nothing."
"That is still not enough of a reason to come to my place unannounced," Damian countered, his voice cutting through her excuse like ice.
Vivian completely ignored the harsh coldness he showed her. Instead, her eyes drifted over to Ana.
While Damian was looking away, Vivian shot Ana a toxic, triumphant glare, as if reminding her who really belonged in this world.
Then, turning her innocent face back to Damian, she questioned, "But Damian... What is she doing here? You told everyone she was gone for good."
Ana tried to pull her wrist out of Damian’s grip, feeling the heavy suffocation of the room closing in on her.
But Damian didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled Ana flush against his side, his large hand sliding down to grip her waist possessively, anchoring her to his body in front of the blonde heiress.
He looked down at Vivian, his expression completely cold and lethal.
"Change of plans, Vivian," Damian declared, his deep tone echoing powerfully through the grand foyer. He tightened his grip on Ana’s waist, sending a clear message. "Anastasia is back where she belongs. We are getting back together."
A secondary shockwave hit the room, but this time, it was inside Ana.
Her breath caught in her throat as she stared up at Damian’s harsh, unreadable profile. A sickening jolt of panic shot through her chest. He had never mentioned anything about this.
The contract she signed specified absolute obedience behind closed doors... it said nothing about an immediate, public announcement to the high-society world she had fought so hard to escape.
Vivian’s face drained of all color as she stared at the two of them in pure horror, her fingers trembling against her sides.
"D-Damian... you can’t be serious," Vivian whispered, her voice cracking as she glared at Ana with raw venom. "After everything she did? After she abandoned you?"
Damian didn’t give her an inch. His grip on Ana’s waist only grew tighter, practically bruising her skin through her clothes.
"I don’t repeat myself, Vivian," he said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, icy command. "Leave my house. Now."