Chapter 67
Chapter 67
ROSALIE
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The car ride back home was suffocatingly silent, the air thick with Damien’s simmering anger. I sat stiffly in my seat, my hands clasped tightly in my lap, unsure of what to say or do. He hadn’t even looked at me since I climbed into the car after chasing him down outside the gala.
I could feel the weight of his fury, and it terrified me. The way his jaw was set, the slight twitch in his fingers gripping the steering wheel–it was all so unnerving. Yet, despite my fear, a small part of me refused to feel guilty. What I had done felt right. That boy had made a mistake, but his reason was desperate, not malicious. I didn’t regret standing up for him, but I hated that it had come at the cost of humiliating Damien in public.
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I inhaled deeply, trying to steady my nerves. I needed to make him understand my perspective, but I knew it wouldn’t be easy. Damien wasn’t the type to back down, especially when he felt disrespected. And I had disrespected him–at least in his
eyes.
As we pulled into the driveway, he killed the engine and immediately got out of the car. Not a single word, not even a glance in my direction. My heart sank as I quickly unbuckled my seatbelt and scrambled out to follow him.
“Damien, wait!” I called, jogging after him as he strode toward the house.
He didn’t stop, his broad shoulders stiff as he pushed the front door open and headed straight for the stairs. I hurried after him, my heels clicking loudly against the floor.
“Damien, please! Can we just talk?”
He didn’t respond, but I wasn’t about to give up. I followed him all the way to our bedroom, catching the door just before he could slam it shut. Slipping inside, I closed it softly behind me and leaned against it. He stood in the middle of the room, his back to me, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
“Damien,” I began, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.”
That made him turn around, his eyes blazing with anger. “Sorry?” he repeated, his voice cutting through the air like a whip. “Do you even understand what you did tonight, Rosalie?”
“I do,” I said quickly, trying to keep my voice calm. “I know I embarrassed you, and I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that in public. But-”
“But?” he interrupted, taking a step closer. “There’s no ‘but,‘ Rosalie! You humiliated me in front of everyone. Do you have any idea how that makes me look?”
“I wasn’t trying to humiliate you,” I said, my voice rising despite myself. “I was just trying to do the right thing. That boy-”
“That boy is a thief!” he snapped, his tone dripping with disdain. “And you made me look like a fool for trying to hold him
accountable.”
“He’s just a kid!” I argued. “And he’s desperate! He’s not some career criminal, Damien. He stole because his mother is sick and he didn’t know what else to do.”
“Oh, please,” Damien scoffed. “You actually believe that nonsense? He saw an opportunity and took it. That’s all there is to it.”
“You don’t know that,” I shot back, my frustration boiling over. “You’re so quick to judge, so quick to assume the worst in people. Why can’t you just give him the benefit of the doubt?”
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Chapter 67
“Because the world doesn’t work that way, Rosaliet” he yelled, his voice echoing in the room. “You think being kind and naive is going to change anything? All you did was show everyone at that gala that you don’t respect me or my authority.”
“This isn’t about authority!” 1 snapped, my voice trembling. “This is about you always needing to be in control, always needing to be the hero. Newsflash, Damien not everything is about you!”
His eyes narrowed dangerously, and I knew I had crossed a line. “How dare you speak to me like that when I was only trying to do a good deed for you? You are so fucking ungrateful,” he said, his voice low and threatening.
I didn’t back down. “I’m tired of this,” I said, my voice shaking but firm. “I’m tired of pretending that everything is perfect when it’s not. I’m tired of you trying to control every aspect of my life. I’m tired of this marriage.”
The words hung in the air between us, heavy and final. Damien stared at me, his expression unreadable, but the tension in his body was palpable.
“You don’t mean that,” he said finally, his voice cerily calm.
“I do,” I said, my chest tightening as the reality of my words sank in. “I can’t do this anymore, Darien, I want a divorce. I thought I could give us a chance again but it’s clear that this marriage is irredeemable. I’m tired of the fights, the abuse, the issues, this wasn’t how I thought my married life would be like. I am fed up!”
In an instant, he was in front of me, his hands gripping my arms tightly. “You think you can just walk away from me?” he said, his voice a dangerous growl. “You think you can just decide you’re done, like this is some casual arrangement?”
“Let me go,” I said, my voice trembling as I tried to pull away.
“I don’t care how you feel,” he said, his fingers digging into my skin. “Or what you want. You belong to me now, and I’ll make you understand that, no matter how much you fight me.”
My pulse raced as his hand slid up, his fingers brushing against the side of my neck. The touch was possessive, claiming, and it sent an electric jolt through my body. I hated the way my body betrayed me, reacting to him against my will.
“I don’t share, Rosebud,” he growled, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my knees weak. His other hand tightened its grip on my wrist, as if daring me to challenge him. “You’ll learn that soon enough.”
Before I could react, Damien’s mouth crushed against mine, rough and demanding. It wasn’t gentle, wasn’t sweet–it was possessive, leaving no room for argument. A kiss that stripped me of control and left me breathless.
I shoved against his chest, my nails digging into the firm muscle beneath his shirt, desperate to create space, but he didn’t budge. His arms only tightened around me, locking me against him as if daring me to resist.
“Damien,” I gasped when I managed to turn my head away, but he was relentless, his lips moving to my jaw, his breath hot against my skin. “Stop-”
“You don’t get to defy me, Rosalie,” he growled, his voice rough and edged with dominance. “Not here. Not anywhere.”
Before I could twist away, his hands slid down to grip my thighs, firm and unyielding. In one swift motion, he lifted me, forcing my legs to wrap around his waist. My breath hitched, and I clawed at his shoulders, trying to fight the way my body betrayed me–heat pooling low in my stomach, my pulse hammering against my ribs.
“Put me down,” I hissed, trying to sound commanding, but my voice wavered.
He ignored me entirely. His lips found the sensitive skin of my neck, and I bit back a gasp, my resolve faltering under the heat of his touch. “You need to learn,” he muttered, his breath searing against my ear, “who you belong to.”
I wriggled in his grasp as he carried me to the bed, but his grip was ironclad. He lowered me onto the mattress, his weight
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Chapter 67
pressing into me, caging me in. My pulse thundered, and I tried to turn my head, but his hand caught my chem, founding may gaze back to his.
“Don’t look away from me,” he commanded, his voice low and dangerous.
His hands moved to the straps of my gown, tugging them down with a deliberate slowness that made my din born. 1 squirmed beneath him, a mix of frustration and something I couldn’t name twisting in my chest.
“You fight me like this,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my collarbone, “but your body tells me everything I need to
know.”
My breath caught as his lips trailed lower, the heat of his mouth leaving a blazing path on my skin. I clenched my fests, torm between pushing him away and holding on to steady myself.
“Damien.” I whispered, my voice shaky, but whether it was a plea to stop or continue, even I wasn’t sure.
He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes again, his expression fierce and unrelenting, “You’ll hate me for this, won’t you?” he asked, his voice softer now, but there was no mistaking the determination behind it.
I swallowed hard, my chest heaving as his hands roamed my sides, each touch deliberate and claiming. I hated how my body responded to him, how every inch of me seemed to burn under his touch, betraying the anger I wanted to hold on to
“You’re mine, Rosalie,” he said, his voice dropping to a near–whisper as his lips hovered over mine. “Not just tonight. Always I’ll never let you leave me. Get that into your head. If it means I have to ruin your body every single night for it to stick that you will always belong to me then I don’t mind doing it. Give it all to me, your hatred, your fear, your love, I don’t fucking care. Just know that you belong to me Rosebud.”
Before I could form a response, his mouth claimed mine again, the kiss more controlled this time but no less consuming My heart raced as I felt his hands tighten on my hips, his touch firm and possessive.
Every movement, every touch, was a reminder–a silent declaration that I belonged to him, and no amount of resistance could change that.
AD
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