13. The Devil’s Inquiry
1204 Words
The floor-to-ceiling windows of Rodriguez Corporation’s penthouse office bathed the room in cold, sterile light. Damien stood with his back to the door, staring out at the city skyline, a glass of bourbon swirling lazily in his hand. The ice had long since melted— he’d been standing there too long, lost in thought.
Then came a knock.
“Enter.” Damien took another sip as he ordered.
Davis strode in, a manila folder tucked under his arm. His usual swagger was tempered by the tension in his shoulders. He knew better than to interrupt Damien’s brooding without good reason.
“You wanted everything on Emma Smith,” Davis said, dropping the file onto the obsidian desk. “And I mean everything.”
Damien didn’t turn. “Summarize it.”
Davis exhaled through his nose. “Emma Smith. Twenty-five. Father is dead— left a mountain of debt. Mother’s fighting the last stage, brain cancer in a mid-tier hospital. The treatments cost a lot of money as well.” He flipped open the file, skimming the pages. “No siblings. Worked two jobs to put herself through college. Then, four years ago, she saved William Jones from a car accident. Got herself a broken hand. The mark around her elbow is still there.”
Damien’s fingers tightened around his glass. She was hurt! He noticed a scar on her elbow, but didn't ask. Maybe he should have. It must have hurt! Suddenly a weird pain stabbed his heart.
Why am I feeling a rush of emotions for that woman? People get hurt all the time. No big deal.
“William adored her,” Davis continued. “Introduced her to his grandson, Oliver. They ‘fell in love.’” He air-quoted the last words with a scoff. “Married within a year.”
A muscle in Damien’s jaw twitched. Fell in love. The words curdled in his gut. She fell in love with another man! Why would she? What did she see in him? What could she possibly find in him attractive?
The glass in Damien’s hand cracked. Did she really love him? But she seemed so indifferent to her husband yesterday! Did she lie? Would she still love Oliver even after meeting Damien? After all, Damien was way more good looking.
Davis pretended not to notice. “Seems Oliver lost interest after marriage. Continued his affair openly seeing a model— Shelby Brown. Emma’s been living like a ghost in her own home until—”
“Until she walked into my bar,” Damien finished, his voice dangerously soft. His mind went back to the night when Emma boldly walked up to him and offered to pay.
Davis nodded. “Now she’s paying you ten grand a week to f**k her.” He smirked. “Hell of a promotion from playing a neglected housewife.”
Damien finally turned. His expression was ice, but his eyes— Davis stiffened. There was something dark there. Something unreadable.
“You’re dismissed,” Damien said, his tone like a blade drawn slow.
Davis blinked. “That’s it? No ‘good job’? No ‘thanks for breaking every privacy law in existence’?”
Damien’s gaze slid to the wall clock—3:58 PM—before dropping to the shards of glass on his desk. He set the fractured tumbler down with deliberate care, crystal dust glinting under the light, then smoothed the crisp line of his cuff, as he was ready to leave.
“Wait! Where are you off to?” Davis’s brows pinched. “You’ve got a meeting with the Italians in twenty.”
“Reschedule it.” Damien’s voice was almost casual, his stride already carrying him toward the door.
Davis’s jaw dropped. “Reschedule? Damien, these are the Vincentis. This is a fifty-billion-dollar deal. You don’t just—”
“I have work.” Damien slid into his tailored jacket with a single, lethal motion, the fabric whispering as it fell perfectly against his frame.
Davis’s eyes narrowed, sharp with realization. His voice was low, accusatory.
“You mean Mrs. Jones?”
Damien froze.
Mrs. Jones.
The name slithered down his spine like a blade. Why did she have to be Mrs. Jones? It didn't suit her at all. A sudden anger took over his emotions.
“Call her Miss Smith,” he said, too quiet.
Davis was taken aback. He knew Damien for decades but never saw him losing temper over a woman before. He held up his hands, his voice laced with amusement, “Jesus. Fine. Miss Smith. How long are you planning to keep this up?”
“The contract says eight weeks.” A smirk tugged at Damien’s lips as he remembered the absurd document she’d drafted— amateurish, might not be even enforceable in court, and yet… charming in its audacity.
Davis choked, his eyes wide in shock. “You signed a contract?”
Damien Rodriguez didn't sign contracts! He created them, according to his profit. Made people sign them against their wills. And here he was, bound by a hilarious contract.
“Mm. Basic terms. No pictures. No public affection. No videos.” Damien’s smirk widened. “And no digging into her personal life.” He tapped the file on the desk. “So if she finds out about this, and sue me, you acted alone. Understood?”
Who would have the audacity to sue Damien Rodriguez? All renowned lawyers in the country could never dare to go against him. This was messed up. Totally messed up! Davis choked on his own thoughts.
Davis paled. “You’re kidding.”
Damien adjusted his tie in the reflection of the window. “I don’t kid.”
“You’re insane!” Davis called after him as Damien strode toward the door.
Was he?
Maybe.
At first, this had been a curiosity— a bored king amusing himself with a pawn. He wanted to see how far this woman could go! But now?
Now he was intrigued.
A married woman. A woman who’d loved her husband enough to marry him, yet she was virgin even after three years of their marriage. What kind of love was that? And now she sought pleasure in the arms of a stranger!
His arms.
And the way she’d looked at him last night— like he was the answer to a question she’d been too afraid to ask.
Damien stepped into the elevator, the doors sliding shut behind him.
Davis’s voice echoed down the hall: “SHE’S MARRIED, YOU PSYCHOPATH! She is one of the Jones and we signed a lot of contracts with them, if you have forgotten. I don’t know about your Miss Smith, but William Jones can actually sue you for f*****g his granddaughter-in-law.”
The elevator descended.
Damien smiled.
What if she is married to Jones? I can crush them like ants if I had to. They are nothing before the Rodriguez empire alone. I don’t even need to play dirty to wipe them out of the map.
But why would I crash my business partners for a woman? Did I really start losing my mind?
On top of that, one question haunted him the most: did she really love her husband?
- Writer
