CHAPTER SIX

Damien's eyes sparkled with a mixture of fascination and spite as he sat in his office, his fingers drumming a rhythmic pattern on the polished wood. 

His PA, Briggs, had just left, and Damien's mind was already racing with thoughts of his wife, Joan. 

He couldn't help but smile as he remembered the way she looked - innocent, timid, and very fragile. He liked that about her. It made him feel significant and in control. 

As he sat there, lost in thought, his secretary walked into the room. 

She was taken by surprise by the sight of her usually stern and fierce boss, his face softened by a heavenly expression. 

For a moment, she forgot herself, and her eyes lingered on Damien's face, taking in the magnificent one-in-a-blue-moon view.

His jaw had strong lines, his deep green eyes like the sea on a warm summer afternoon and his lips curved into a naughty smirk. She felt a flutter in her chest and looked aside, her face flushed red with humiliation. 

She had never seen Damien like this before, and it troubled her.

"Excuse me, sir," she called, her voice just above a whisper. "Or I'll just... uh... leave you to your thoughts." She fidgeted with a slight smile trying to compose herself but Damien did not even notice her, He was too engrossed in his small universe, where he was the master and Joan was his plaything. 

Damien waited for Briggs to return with the information he had ordered him to work on about Joan, he couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation, of excitement. He was going to play with Joan, to toy with her, to see how far he could push her before she broke.

And he couldn't wait to get started.

But then Damien's look drifted as the minutes passed, his smile failed and his eyes clouded over with rage. 

He remembered how Joan cried back then in school, for a moment, he felt guilty.

How she would hide and then he would laugh and make fun of her and then compared to how weak and vulnerable she appeared now, she hadn't changed, "she didn't grow up, and she claims that I hurt her, if only she knew what hurting is, if only she felt what being broken was like, if only the world could get a glimpse of how I feel", then no one would complain.

But then gradually his guilt transited, steering up something deep inside him, a deep-seated rage that he couldn't quite articulate. Images of when he would sit face down embracing his knees as his only friend and companion came in, the taunting feeling of hurt and loneliness.

As if he was repeating his own upbringing, his own sorrow and suffering, which made him want to strike out and hurt someone, anybody. 

His fist clenched and his eyes a stormy sea of troubling emotions, sparked with a flash of fierce redness as his muscles retracted and his veins became visible.

But then came the sound of a knock on the door finally distracting Damien, his face shifted back to his usual stern and cold look as normal, his smile failing and his eyes clouding over with rage. 

"Come in", he ordered.

It was Briggs, his Personal Assistant.

"Good day Mr. Damien" he greeted with a bow.

"Go on…" Damien ordered once again.

"You asked that I keep an eye on your wife, investigate her background, and insure that she isn't a spy or an enemy in disguise", well these are the little findings I was able to make" he presented a file as he bowed.

"I want you to pick her up from her dance class. Take her home, with my car, and make sure she's safe," Damien ordered.

Briggs hesitated for a moment before responding. "Yes, sir. But, if I may say so, sir, perhaps it would be better to send a more... uhm… discreet vehicle. The press has been sniffing around, and we don't want to draw the public's attention to your... uhm… marital status, sir."

Damien's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched as he tried to suppress his already awoken anger. But he knew Jenkins was right. He couldn't afford to let the press get wind of his marriage, not yet, not until he was ready.

"Fine," Damien agreed. "She'll go in the vehicle that brought her, And make sure the driver knows to avoid cameras and media. I don't want anyone to know who she is, or who she's married to."

Briggs' voice came through again, calm and efficient this time. "Yes, sir. I'll take care of it."

*****

Joan excused herself, leaving the two men_Briggs and Rami behind.

She had just finished up her dance class, her body sore, but her mind was at ease. She had lost herself in the music, in the movement, and had forgotten about Damien, about her marriage, about everything for a short while, even if the feelings kept flashing.

She took a deep breath, preparing herself for what was to come. She would play along, for now, but she would never give up on herself.

Staring at the mirror in front of her, she questioned herself "How am I going to explain to these men? It's better I tell Rami about it now that it's early" she acknowledged but then changed her mind once again after a short pause, "Mrs. Ivan isn't going to accept that, and a need to keep a good book with her if I'm living under the same roof with her", she turns on the tap, splashing water in her face as if washing off her guilt, but it doesn't go away.

As she walked out of the dance studio, she saw a small car waiting for her, the engine purring softly. Briggs Damien's PA was standing by the door, his eyes expressionless, Joan felt a rush of anxiety, "I hope he didn't tell Rami anything yet".

"Mrs. Damien," he called, waving slightly so that she could see him, his voice low and respectful. "Your husband sent me to pick you up. Please, get in."

Joan's heart sank, but she knew she had no choice. She got into the car, Briggs following close behind.

As they drove away, Joan couldn't help but feel a sense of unease, how was she going to face Damien now, what if Mrs. Ivan found out?, she had also left Rami unsettled once again.

She knew she was in for a wild ride.