The game begins
1246 Words
(Damian)
The words left my mouth before I could second-guess them. She froze, the hatred in her eyes disappeared just enough. Then she got curious or rather suspicious.
Definitely suspicion.
Alina turned slowly to face me, arms still crossed. Her wet clothes clung to her, her soaked hair dripping little trails of rainwater onto the café floor. She looked like hell and still managed to knock the breath out of me.
“What kind of proposition?” she asked.
I didn’t answer right away. Mostly because I wasn’t sure how to phrase it without sounding completely insane.
“It’s… complicated,” I admitted.
She scoffed. “Of course it is.”
I couldn’t help it—I smiled a little. She was always like this. Unapologetic. Even when she was breaking, she did it fiercely and it was impossible to ignore. Now, seeing her again like this—after all this time, after everything—I couldn’t lose her again.
I wouldn’t.
“I just want to talk,” I said. “Can we sit?”
She looked around like she wanted the walls to swallow her whole. Then she sighed and dropped back into her seat.
“Talk, Damian. You’ve got five minutes.”
That was more than I expected.
I took the seat across from her, trying not to look too satisfied. The air between us was thick, the kind of tension that made breathing feel like a decision.
“I heard what happened,” I said, keeping my voice careful. “About you breaking off the engagement.”
Her eyes narrowed when I said that. “And let me guess, you thought it was the perfect opportunity to come crawling.”
I didn’t flinch. I deserved that.
“Not crawling,” I said. “Just showing up.”
“Uninvited.”
“Like always.”
She shook her head and looked away, fingers drumming on the table. I didn’t push. Not yet.
“I never stopped thinking about you, Alina.”
“Damian—”
“Just let me finish,” I said, leaning forward slightly. “I know you think I’m some obsessive creep who can’t take a hint. Maybe you’re right. But I never pretended to be anything else. I told you how I felt from day one. You had a choice, and you chose him. I respected that.”
“Following me to restaurants and showing up at my apartment wasn’t exactly respectful.”
I smirked. “Okay, maybe I crossed some lines.”
She gave me a look that said you think?
“But I never hurt you,” I said, quietly now. “I never lied to you. I never made promises I didn’t keep.”
Her jaw clenched. Her eyes didn’t meet mine.
“You don’t know anything about what happened between me and Jason.”
“No,” I admitted. “I don’t. I just know he’s not here now, and I am.”
“That’s not a selling point.”
“Depends on who you ask.”
We stared at each other for a beat too long. There were a million things I wanted to say. A million things I didn’t dare touch yet.
But I had to keep her here. Had to get her to see past the rage she kept throwing at me like it was the only language she knew.
So I said the one thing I knew would hold her attention.
“Marry me.”
The words hit the air like a slap. She blinked once. Then again.
Then she laughed.
“You’re out of your damn mind.”
“Probably,” I said. “But I’m serious.”
She stood again, ready to bolt, but I reached out—didn’t touch her, just held my hand out between us like a silent barrier.
“Wait. Just hear me out.”
She glared at me. “You think this is some kind of joke? You think just because I’m single now, I’m suddenly going to say yes to a guy who’s been trailing behind me like a damn shadow?”
“It’s not about you being single,” I said. “It’s about what we could be.”
She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just stared at me like I’d grown horns.
“What we could be?” she repeated.
I nodded. “We could be unstoppable.”
She shook her head like she couldn’t believe this conversation was real. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe,” I said again. “But you’re not happy. You haven’t been for a long time. I see it, even if you try to hide it.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Maybe not. But I want to make it my business.”
She stared at me like she wanted to tear me apart. Maybe she did. But she hadn’t walked out yet. That was something.
“I don’t love you, Damian.”
“I know.”
“And I never will.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.” Her voice cracked just a little. “You don’t get to waltz into my life and make demands. You don’t get to offer marriage like it’s a damn gift.”
“It’s not a gift,” I said. “It’s a deal.”
That stopped her. Her brows pulled together. “A deal?”
I leaned forward again, elbows on the table, voice low. “You marry me. No strings attached. I give you my name. My resources. Protection. Whatever you want. In return, you give me your time. A chance.”
She stared at me like I was speaking another language.
“You think I’m going to say yes just because you’ve got money and power?”
“No. I think you might say yes because deep down, you’re tired of being alone. And because you know I’d never let anyone hurt you.”
Something flashed across her face. It was fast, but I caught it.
“I don’t need saving.”
“I know,” I said. “But maybe you could use an ally.”
Silence.
It was so f*****g awkward.
Then she sat down again—slowly, like every movement hurt.
“You’re really serious about this.”
“Dead serious.”
She looked at me like she still didn’t trust me. Like maybe she never would. But there was something in her eyes now.
“I don’t do relationships,” she muttered.
“Good. Neither do I.”
She snorted, but the corner of her mouth twitched. Almost a smile.
“I’m not saying yes.”
“I didn’t ask for a yes. Just a maybe.”
She shook her head, then leaned back and crossed her arms again. “You’re insane.”
“You already said that.”
“And if I do this… if I even consider it—it’s not going to be a fairy tale.”
I smiled, but there was nothing soft in it. “Good. I don’t believe in fairy tales.”
“Then what do you believe in?”
I looked her straight in the eye. “Vengeance. Power. And you.”
Her lips parted, but no words came out. And for the first time in a long time, I saw it—hesitation.
A crack in the wall.
She didn’t say yes.
But she didn’t say no either.
And that was all I needed.
For now.
- Writer
