CHAPTER 65: HIS TEMPER

–Livana–

I heard his footsteps draw near before he tilted my chin up.

"Who is Alejandro?" His voice was husky, heavy with command.

I lifted my hand, letting my fingers trace the lines of his biceps.

"Why do you ask?"

"It just... intrigued me. The way he spoke—it sounded like he was seducing you."

His tone turned threatening. Sexy, yes—but he had no right to direct it at me.

Without warning, I grabbed him by the neck, my grip tightening.

He groaned, bracing himself against the sofa for support.

"Are you raising your voice at me, Damon?"

"My wife," he murmured, voice softer now, remorse creeping in. "I’m sorry. It just caught me off guard."

"Leave."

I shoved him off me with force.

He chuckled under his breath. I caught a flicker of his movement as he rubbed his neck.

"Wow," he muttered, lowering himself onto the seat beside me. "I think I’ll skip work today."

"If you insist on lingering, I might just seduce another man. The moment you become useless to me, Damon, I’ll discard you."

He fell silent, thoughtful.

"Hmm."

His voice was low, as if weighing my words, when I stood and rolled my eyes.

"You’re not wearing any underwear," he remarked.

I scoffed.

"You’ll have to leave with your boner." My tone was ice. "Get out, Damon. Don’t screw up your operations just because you can’t keep your cock in check."

Using the pattern in the carpet as my guide, I made my way to the bathroom. His footsteps followed. Then, his arms snaked around my waist from behind, and he tilted my chin again.

"Baby," he whispered, dark and possessive, "I’m going to fuck you so hard... and then I’ll kill that bastard before he even sees you."

"I’m looking forward to it."

"I love you."

His voice was more feral than loving, the emotion laced with dangerous obsession.

"Let me find out more about Alejandro Madrigal, my love."

I smirked. Perfect. He’ll deal with that pest without me lifting a finger.

"Oh, and about the chip on Choco?" He added casually. "It’s harmless. Just to identifying him as a service dog."

"We’ll have it checked," I said coolly.

"Of course, baby."

He kissed me.

"I’ll prepare your bath, then I’ll head out."

He guided me to the chair. I heard the water begin to fill the tub. A moment later, he placed something in my hand.

"A bath bomb. Too bad you can’t see it—it has real flowers in it."

"I’m fine with whatever."

He touched my chin and kissed my lips again.

"The tub’s ready. Don’t slip."

"Hmm."

I pushed his face away.

When I heard the bathroom door close behind him, I tossed the bath bomb into the tub. A soft hiss met my ears as it dissolved.

I lifted my dress—the same one my husband had correctly guessed I wore without underwear. He was right. I rarely do, especially when I’m alone... or with him.

I sank into the warmth of the water, letting it soothe my sore body. Peace, finally—until a knock on the door broke through.

I didn’t move, just rested my head back on the tub’s edge as the door creaked open.

"I brought wine and snacks. A peace offering," Damon said. He was still here. I sighed.

He set up a wooden tray across the tub, placing the items gently before poking my nipple with a grin.

"I love you," he said cheerfully.

"Get out," I replied, voice calm and firm.

"I’ll be back soon."

He kissed my forehead. "Enjoy."

I exhaled slowly and shook my head.

"I’ll leave the door open. Choco is here."

"Fine. Now go."

"I love you."

I heard Choco’s soft breathing beside me.

I was losing my mind. Damon was making sure of it.

–Laura–

Endless signing. Endless reviewing. Proposals, reports, updates—my brain was mush. Then a mail just arrived in my home office.

It had my sister’s name on it. Labeled "PRIORITY."

Obviously, I didn’t touch it. It wasn’t mine. But... curiosity? Yeah, it killed the cat.

I flipped it.

It was from Virginia.

My jaw dropped.

"Oh, shit. No way," I muttered. "Damn it... That had to come from the Pentagon."

"What was that?" Damien asked.

"Nothing," I replied with a sunny smile. "I’m starving now, though."

"Okay," he said, standing. "What do you feel like eating?"

"Could you ask Chef Wally to make me a pizza with creamy spinach on top? And mozzarella sticks. Extra cheese."

"Got it."

He stood up, leaving his phone on the table like a fool in love.

I grinned.

"When you leave, I’m totally snooping through your phone like a nosy girlfriend."

He just nodded, amused, and walked out.

The moment the door clicked, I casually reached for his phone. He gave me the password ages ago—my birthday. He’s predictable like that.

I scrolled through his messages. Mostly boring. Most were mine. He’d pinned my chats, Damon’s, and Livana’s. Sweet. He really does prioritize me.

Then I opened Instagram. He rarely touches it, follows no one but me, and a few pages about cats and dogs. Cute.

But... his DMs?

A flood of messages from women in sexy outfits. Bikinis. Lingerie. Some that left very little to the imagination.

Wait. Is he following Tyrona?

I snorted and checked Tyrona’s profile. She was posing with a mini Kelly bag. Not her style at all. Obvious sugar baby energy.

I rolled my eyes.

Another woman messaged him:

"Damien! It’s been forever. Wanna hang out?"

I frowned.

More photos. Provocative, teasing. She even sent a new one while I was staring at the thread.

Really?

I was about to block her when a devilish idea hit me.

I grabbed my phone.

Accidentally, I’d once recorded me and Damien having a very... explicit conversation. For some reason, I hadn’t deleted it. So, I answered her video call, kept the phone facing down the table—and played the audio.

A few seconds in, I ended the call and promptly set his profile to private. Then I unfollowed most of the thirsty girls on his account.

Honestly, why was his profile public anyway?

He came back moments later, holding the food tray.

"Are you snooping through my phone?" he asked, trying to sound serious.

I raised a brow.

"Then explain the girls messaging you. Boobs out and all."

He blinked, confused.

"There are girls messaging me?"

"Yeah, duh. Some were practically licking the screen."

He leaned over to look.

"Oh. That account? Kai made it for me. Can you delete it? I don’t even know how."

"You’re telling me Kai made you an Instagram account—and those photos are stolen?"

"Yeah, I told him to take some shots, but I didn’t expect girls I hooked up with before to start reaching out."

"Ohhh..."

I narrowed my eyes.

"How many did you hook up with?"

Silence. He sank slowly into his swivel chair like a child being scolded.

"I don’t know. But I’ve definitely fucked you more than anyone."

I smirked.

"Good answer."

I started creating a new account for him, using a photo of us from vacation. I looked sexy. He looked hot. Perfect combo.

I uploaded it.

"Look," I said proudly, showing him.

His eyes widened in horror.

"No! Don’t post that! Not your half-naked body! Please, I’m begging you."

He sounded desperate.

"Change it."

"No."

I crossed my arms. "You’re not changing it. Live with it."

He frowned.

"Stop being so stubborn, Laura."

"Fine. Whatever."

My tone turned cold.

I didn’t talk to him the rest of the day. Or the night.

Not because I was mad—because I wanted him to suffer a little.

He snuggled close, tried kissing me. I brushed him off. Let him stew.

The next morning, something felt... off.

I sat up, groggy. A knot twisted in my gut—not from food. From suspicion.

Damien was already gone.

I rushed to the bathroom, grabbed three pregnancy tests, and took them all.

Two minutes later...

All three were positive.

I stared at them in disbelief. Not a shock. I expected this. Still, my breath caught.

Then I heard the front door.

"Laura?" Damien called out cheerfully. "Breakfast in bed!"

Sweet man. Adorable. Possibly doomed.

I pressed my lips together to stop myself from laughing, the tests hidden behind my back.

He walked in, grinning.

"Hey, babe. Are we good now?"

He kissed my cheek.

His eyes narrowed.

"What are you hiding?"

He laughed—and pulled my hand forward.

He stared down at the test sticks. His smile dropped.

"What... what are these?"

"Pregnancy tests," I said, my voice cracking.

He blinked, trying to process.

"I—I thought we were using condoms. Why didn’t you use condoms?"

"Fuck," he muttered, turning away, hands raking through his hair.

"Fuck!"

He shouted, and I flinched.

His whole body was trembling.

He spun around, eyes wet.

"I’m sorry," he whispered.

"I know you didn’t want a bastard to knock you up but..."

"Damien..." I murmured. There was a lump in my throat now.

He exhaled sharply.

"I love you, Laura. I do. I just didn’t want anyone to claim you. Ever."

His voice was cracking now, barely a whisper.

"This... this is a mistake."

What in a freaking hell?