Chapter 187: Devil’s Smile
Damian crossed the floor with silent, deliberate strides. He stopped right beside Anastasia, his shadow falling over her as he reached down and smoothly slipped the shattered phone from her fingers.
"Leave it," Damian said, his voice flat and authoritative as he slid the ruined device into his suit pocket. "I’ll have corporate tech pull a brand-new model from private inventory and copy your cloud backup before noon. Go get dressed."
Ana sighed, nodding faintly, and headed back into the master bedroom to change.
Valerie’s stomach bottomed out. Copy the cloud backup. The second Damian’s elite IT director plugged the encrypted recovery tool in and booted a mirrored display, every pending push notification would fire off.
Damian didn’t leave for the foyer. He was already fully dressed, impeccably styled in his tailored suit, his coat draped casually over his forearm as he stood anchored beside the kitchen island.
His obsidian eyes narrowed as he watched Anastasia disappear down the hallway toward the master suite. The moment the bedroom door clicked shut, he slowly turned his attention back to his sister.
The ruined, cracked phone was a heavy, cold weight inside his jacket pocket.
"What is going on with you this morning?" Damian asked, his gravelly voice dripping with dry mockery as he tilted his head toward Valerie. "Dropping glass on marble like your hands stopped functioning? You’re twitching around like you’ve committed a federal crime under my roof."
𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢
Valerie’s jaw clenched, her cheeks flushing hot with sheer panic, but before she could dig herself an even deeper grave, Victoria intervened with effortless, glacial composure.
"She was awake until four in the morning binge-watching nonsense, Damian," Victoria said smoothly, lifting her teacup without missing a beat. "Her reflexes are shot because she is half-asleep and completely unfocused. There is no mystery to solve."
Damian didn’t buy a single syllable of it. His cynical gaze drifted between his mother’s practiced poker face and the rigid tension stiffening Valerie’s shoulders. A low, mocking hum rumbled deep in his throat.
"Is that right?" Damian drawled, his lips curling into a cool, condescending smirk as he locked eyes with his sister. "Then why are you still standing here taking up space? Go back to bed and finish your beauty sleep. It’s not like you actually have an office to report to or a job to maintain."
The sharp jab struck Valerie’s pride like a slap. Her eyes flared with indignant fury, her chest heaving as she parted her lips to snap right back at his patronizing arrogance.
"Damian is entirely right," Victoria cut in with sharp authority, her voice slicing through the air before Valerie could utter a single word.
Victoria turned her head, fixing Valerie with a fierce, unmistakable glare that practically ordered her to shut her mouth and stand down before Damian saw straight through the cracks.
Valerie swallowed her venom, her knuckles whitening against her sides as she glared at her brother, powerless against the suffocating corporate titan standing in their kitchen.
In the plush, soundproof interior of the Maybach, Anastasia leaned back against the leather seat, a soft, unhurried smile curving her lips as she turned her head to look at Damian.
He was leaning against the opposite door, his brow furrowed in concentration as his thumbs flicked across his phone, reviewing early morning market indexes. Even without looking up, he felt the heat of her unblinking gaze lingering on his profile.
"Take a picture, Vance," Damian drawled, his tone layered with dry mockery. "It lasts longer than burning a hole into the side of my head."
"You’re looking exceptionally handsome today," Ana replied smoothly.
Damian froze.
His thumbs halted. He slowly lifted his head, his dark eyes wide with genuine, unmasked surprise. For a man who anticipated every ambush, her casual compliment struck him completely off-guard.
He searched her flushed cheeks and bright hazel eyes, wondering if the toxicologist had slipped a mild narcotic into her prescription.
"Are antibiotics messing with your cognitive functions?" He scoffed, his lips twitching into a familiar, guarded smirk. "Or did the carbon monoxide permanently scramble your brain cells?"
Instead of taking the bait, Ana broke into a light, melodic giggle, the sound filling the quiet car with an ease that felt entirely new between them.
"Shouldn’t you compliment me back?" She asked, tilting her head with an expectant glint in her eye. "Basic manners, Mr. Sterling."
Damian locked his phone and tossed it onto the empty leather console between them. He took his time, his obsidian gaze raking over her from the collar of her charcoal blazer down to her tailored slacks, deliberately taking his time before his mouth curled into an infuriatingly arrogant smirk.
"Nah," he said smoothly. "You don’t look that great to me today."
Ana gasped in theatrical indignation. She immediately closed the distance between them on the wide bench seat, her hand flying out to deliver a playful, stinging slap against his bicep.
"You’re unbelievable," Ana declared, leaning into his space, her eyes sparkling with defiance. "All couples... especially high-profile ones who are publicly engaged in front of every shark on Wall Street... compliment each other. If we’re putting on an elaborate act for the world, Mr. Sterling, shouldn’t we commit and do all of it?"
The teasing curve of Damian’s mouth settled, his expression shifting into something heavy, dark, and predatory.
"Then we will do it all," Damian murmured, his voice dropping into a dangerous, gravelly rasp. "Starting with this."
Before she could process the shift, his large hand shot out, wrapping firmly around her waist. With a swift, effortless pull, he hauled her across the console and lifted her clean into his lap, straddling her over his thighs.
"Damian... your stitches!" Ana gasped, her hands flying to his broad shoulders to steady herself, terrified of tearing his bandaged ribs.
"I’m getting them cut out tomorrow," he growled low in his throat, completely dismissing the pain. "I’m done playing carefully."
He seized her mouth before she could utter another protest.
His lips claimed hers in a deep, bruising kiss that stole the oxygen straight from her recovering lungs. His large palm slid to the nape of her neck, tilting her head back as his mouth drifted down her jawline, leaving a trail of hot, possessive kisses along the sensitive curve of her throat where the purple bruising had finally faded.
Ana let out a soft, breathy sigh, her fingers tangling into his thick, dark hair as the heat between them consumed the narrow space.
His mouth moved back over hers, hungry and unyielding, giving her no room to retreat... until the heavy Maybach decelerated with a gentle, pneumatic hiss, coming to a smooth halt before the towering glass entrance of Sterling Tower.
The chauffeur tapped discreetly on the privacy partition.
Damian broke the kiss by a fraction of an inch, letting out a frustrated, unsatisfied groan against her damp lips.
Flushed and breathless, Ana pushed herself off his lap with a triumphant, breathless laugh. She scrambled back onto her seat, hastily smoothing down the rumpled fabric of her blazer and tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear just as the driver opened the door.
She stepped out into the crisp morning air, pausing just outside the door frame to look back inside. Catching Damian’s smoldering gaze, she threw him a bold, playful wink before turning to walk up the grand marble steps of the corporate headquarters.
Damian remained seated in the shadows of the Maybach for a long, quiet second, his thumb absently tracing his swollen lower lip as he watched her graceful figure stride through the revolving glass doors.
The cold, ruthless cynicism that usually ruled his mind felt entirely fractured. A foreign ache tightened in his chest as a single, quiet question echoed in his thoughts.
When was the last time she actually smiled at me like that?
**************
The private elevator doors had barely sealed Damian and Anastasia inside before the quiet penthouse seemed to exhale a suffocating weight.
Victoria didn’t linger in the foyer. Her sharp, purposeful strides clicked across the hardwood, heading straight for the guest wing. She pushed open the door to Valerie’s room without bothering to knock, her expression cold and demanding.
Valerie was pacing near the foot of the bed, running both hands through her tangled hair.
"Why did you do that, Valerie?" Victoria demanded, closing the door firmly behind her. "Dropping the phone on the marble? Shattering the screen right in front of Damian? You practically begged him to turn his suspicious eye on us."
Valerie spun around, clutching her chest in sheer, shocking disbelief. Her eyes widened, genuine hurt bleeding into an exaggerated gasp.
"Are you serious right now, Mother?" Valerie exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air with dramatic outrage. "You think I threw that phone on the ground on purpose? You think I planned a tactical screen-shatter like some kind of undercover agent? It slipped! My hands were sweating, I was terrified, and the universe decided to ruin my life!"
She collapsed backward onto the plush duvet, burying her face in her hands with a loud, exasperated groan.