CHAPTER 33: JEALOUSY AND VIOLENCE

– Damon –

It always made me wonder—why the hell is my wife like that? I love her. I love her to death. But she still hasn’t fallen for me.

Sometimes I think about making her jealous, letting her think I’ve slept with someone else. But I know her—she wouldn’t let me touch her again if I did. And I can’t risk that.

I slouched on the sofa, exhausted after making all the necessary calls.

My wife can’t get pregnant?

I exhaled sharply, rubbing my temple. I’ve had a lot of headaches in my life, but these past few days have been quiet. Maybe because we’ve been...close. Or maybe because I’ve been the one constantly initiating it.

How could I not? She’s so damn beautiful. My goddess.

"D!"

I looked up. Kai was standing there—tanned, relaxed, casual as always—then dropped into the seat across from me.

"So, how’s married life?" he asked with a grin.

I shook my head.

"Oh? Getting divorced already?" he teased.

"No. My wife’s... different. You wouldn’t understand."

"Oh, so you’re stressed already?"

Before I could answer, more of my friends walked in, surrounded by women. One of them—a platinum-blonde woman, probably bleached—swaggered over and flopped onto my lap like she belonged there.

I clenched my jaw and snapped my fingers. One of my men stepped in immediately and yanked her off me.

"Bro~~" Aaron’s voice cracked with tension.

"Are you mocking me?" I growled, my eyes narrowing at him.

"What? You used to be crazy for that white bi—"

"Hey, language," Kai cut in sharply.

But I already knew what Aaron was going to say. And I wasn’t about to let it slide.

"Don’t you ever describe my lady with that filthy mouth of yours." My voice dropped into a lethal coldness as I stared the woman down. She tried to shrug off the guard’s grip, confused and embarrassed.

"Alright, alright! Chill!" Aaron muttered, retreating to his seat with his group.

I rubbed my temple again. "Kai, let’s go."

"Wait, we just got here," Ike protested. "We’re drinking, yeah? The game’s about to start."

"I don’t want to see your faces again. And don’t even think about showing yourselves in front of Livana."

They laughed. Laughed.

"Livana Carrington? She’s blind, man..." Jordan chuckled.

The room seemed to go quiet in my mind.

"Why? Did you just ditch Tyrona and suddenly end up with Livana?"

"Tyrona and I were never together," I snapped. "She was engaged to my brother David."

"Livy!" Kai suddenly called.

I turned—and there she was. My wife. Draped in a sleek black dress, her presence commanding even though she couldn’t see the way everyone stared. Laura stood beside her like a protective shadow.

"Oh, damn. Those sisters are fine," Aaron said, licking his lips.

That was it.

I didn’t think—I moved. In a flash, I grabbed Aaron by the collar and drove my fist into his stomach, hard enough to fold him in half. He groaned, but I wasn’t done. I hit him again, this time making sure he’d feel it for days.

He collapsed to his knees, gasping for air.

The others were frozen in place, stunned.

"Don’t you ever speak about them like that in front of me," I snarled, yanking him upright by the collar again. "If I hear you sexualizing them again, I’ll cut your dick off. Try me."

"Damon," Livana’s calm voice cut through the haze. I shoved Aaron back toward Ike and Jordan like the trash he was.

"Bro, what the hell is wrong with you?" Jordan said, helping Aaron to his feet.

I ignored him, adjusting my coat as I walked straight to my wife. I tilted her chin gently and kissed her lips. Her hands found my shoulders, slid to the back of my neck, and kissed me back.

"Calm now?" she asked softly.

"Yeah." I smirked. "You should do that more often."

"Oh, please," Laura muttered, rolling her eyes. "Kai!"

"Hey, gorgeous!" Kai beamed as they hugged. Then he gave me a quick bro-hug, slapping my back.

"You betting big tonight?" he asked Laura.

I laced my fingers with Livana’s and shot a glare at the trio still gawking at us with their mouths open.

"Who are we fighting again?" Livana asked, her hand resting on my arm as I led her to the VIP room.

"Just had to take care of something," I muttered near her ear.

Kai, Damien, and Laura were already the loudest group in the club by the time we entered the VIP section. Chef Wally, who used to work here full-time, nodded at me. His team had prepared everything—finger foods, drinks, a full spread.

I guided my wife to the glass window that overlooked the arena below, the lights casting golden highlights over her dark dress.

"So," she asked, "who do you think will win?"

I rubbed her back slowly. "I’m not an expert, but I’m betting on whoever Damien placed his money on."

"Or you’re just too lazy to explain the odds."

She got me. I chuckled, pulling her into a cuddle and brushing my lips against her neck. Her scent calmed the fire still simmering in my chest.

"Let’s eat!" Laura called out, clapping her hands.

I lingered a moment longer, kissing Livana’s neck.

"I’ve spoken with the best fertility doctors in the country," I whispered. "I’ll take you to every appointment, and—"

"I’ve already done that, Damon," she murmured.

"Then we’ll check with others," I whispered back. She didn’t look happy, but she knew—we both knew—we needed heirs.

"Guys, seriously, come on!" Laura insisted from behind us.

I stared at my wife for a long time, my fingers gently brushing her hair, trying to hold onto the one thing that ever made the world quiet.

– Laura –

I watched my sister eat peacefully as her husband kept piling food onto her plate with meticulous care. They were such a strange, perfect match—Damon, dominant in every room but visibly submissive to only one person: his wife.

And Livana, despite her soft voice and demure presence, had a quiet, iron will that bent Damon to it without effort.

Not long ago, I’d seen Damon practically seething when one of his idiot friends showed up with a tall girl whose platinum-blonde hair was so bleached it practically glowed under the lights. It wasn’t hard to guess what they’d said. Probably badmouthing my sister. If I had heard them sexualizing Livana, I swear I would’ve driven my heel into their groins until they could never reproduce again. Or until their pathetic manhood shriveled into something no one would ever want. Bastards.

I exhaled sharply and shook my head.

"Why do you look like you’re ready to throw a knife at someone?" Damien’s voice cut through my thoughts. He knows me too well.

He reached for a napkin and gently wiped my nose. "Your nose is eating custard."

I blinked and snatched the napkin from him, dabbing my nose. "It’s mayo," I muttered.

He just smirked and leaned back in his seat, watching me like he was in on some private joke.

I narrowed my eyes. "What’s with that stupid grin?"

He chuckled but said nothing. And then it hit me—the memories from last night. The wild mess we made. The white mess. My eyes squinted sharply as I realized what he was thinking, and I shook my head at him in disbelief.

"What? What?" Kai asked quickly, looking between us. "Did I miss something?"

"They just f—" Damon started, and I shot him a death glare before he could finish.

Kai gasped dramatically like a child caught in gossip. I rolled my eyes.

"Ohhh... I thought you two had already done that years ago," Kai said, too casually.

"Well, they didn’t," Damon added smugly, clearly enjoying this.

He was stoking the flames, and I was the fire. My fingers wrapped around my knife like it was a lifeline, and I was this close

to launching it across the table.

"Wow, congratulations!" Kai said, genuinely enthusiastic.

"Kai, stop," Damien warned, trying to keep things from escalating. But I wasn’t glaring at Kai. I was burning holes through Damon Blackwell’s smug face.

"I think it’s time we start with the baby—"

"Damon," Livana’s calm voice cut in, gentle but firm. "Darling, please. I’d like to enjoy the food and listen to the start of the race in peace."

"Sorry, love. It’s just fun to tease them," he said with a grin.

I sneered and tapped my knife against my plate with deliberate force.

"Can I kill him?" I asked, turning to my sister.

"Not yet," she replied without missing a beat.

"Okay," I muttered and returned to cutting my steak, still glaring at Damon like he’d just set me on fire. Damon Blackwell—the man who could piss me off without even trying. No, I wasn’t going to get pregnant by Damien. I took an after-pill right after. I’m twenty-seven. I have time. I’m not popping out a kid just because we had one wild night.

"Oh! The race is about to start," I said, standing and walking over to the full-glass window. The track was visible from our VIP suite, and the energy from the crowd was deafening. Huge screens lit up as the cars pulled into formation.

"Oh, your ex is racing," I commented casually to Livana, who paused beside me.

"Bet on him," she said.

"What? Why?" I asked, confused.

"That bastard can win a race. I think that’s the only thing he knows how to win," she said with a shrug.

I glanced at Damien, who nodded.

"You don’t care? Even if he’s your ex?" Kai asked.

"What we need is money," Livana said flatly.

I couldn’t argue with that.

"Alright," Damien pressed his button to place the bet. Damon followed, and so did Kai. I hesitated, then placed my bet on the manwhore-slut-ex-fiancé who had once tried to win my sister. She’d never even given him a second glance.

"Damien, let’s go outside."

"Sure, babe."

I looked at my sister and gave her hand a quick squeeze before letting Damien guide me outside. The party was still going strong—music pulsing, bodies everywhere, couples making out in dark corners like the night had no rules.

And then I saw them—those jerks from earlier, laughing and pawing at the same platinum-blonde girl. The one who tried to mimic my sister’s elegance with bleached hair and tacky style. It was disgusting. They were mocking Livana in their own pathetic way.

"Oh, hey, Damien!" Jordan called out, all smiles like he hadn’t been a complete dick earlier.

I glared at him, making no attempt to hide it. Damien slipped his hand around my waist and pulled me in close—so close I could feel his hard-on pressed against my hip. I looked up at him, surprised.

"Sorry, babe. You know what you do to me," he whispered. His voice was husky, low, intentionally provocative. And timed perfectly—because my ex-boyfriend, the one I almost slept with, was standing nearby.

I giggled and nudged him playfully. "Come on. Get me a drink."

He held me close as we headed to the bar. The bartender, the tall and handsome one, gave me a charming smile.

"Miss Laura," he greeted.

"Hey, handsome. I’ll have my usual."

Before I could say more, Damien turned my face toward him and kissed me, slow and firm.

"You shouldn’t call him handsome," he said, voice suddenly deeper, edged with possession.

He didn’t usually sound like that.

And God... it was sexy.