004 Cute Tattoo

Ever since the “Ava incident”, Damian’s marriage has been a taboo topic in the family.

“As parents, we see women around you in different lights,” Daisy says with a cautious tone, “he is just looking out for you.”

“He didn’t need to call her a bastard,” Damian says with a smiley tone, but his eyes get colder.

“That’s not what he said,” Daisy sighs, “He was saying that she was brought back to the Knight family when she was older, and that makes a difference. I’m not judging her life at the orphanage, but if she acts like one, then I will call as I see, too.”

Damian’s lips curve into a cold, evil smirk in the dark room: “So even if an orphan, so long as she grew up in a rich family, then she’s okay to marry?”

“Damian...” Daisy sighs.

“Hey, mom, can you hear that?” Damian smirks again, his tone light as if the darkness in his eyes a moment ago was never there.

“Hear what?”

“The sound of the shower stopped,” Damian says mischievously, “if you want, I can take this one home?”

“...Damian!” Daisy huffs angrily.

Since the Ava incident, Damian started changing women-like clothes. But only physically, never for bringing home. Daisy can’t tell whether it’s for an unending love, or he’s just doing it to challenge his also stubborn father at this point.

Catherine comes out to a dim living room.

Only a line of recessed lamps is on. Though with two full walls made of glass, the storm lets limited light in. The dim living room opens its dark mouth to Catherine, like a monster lurking.

In the middle of it, the man lies leisurely on the sofa. He poses no threat when those sharp eyes are closed. With his arms stretched on each side, he lies there like a king on his throne.

A tired and lonely one.

No point to coy when she already took the deal. Catherine came out in a towel.

She stops a few feet away from the man, raising her head with one hand under her armpit to hold the towel. Letting him take a good look at his purchase.

Then the king opens his eyes. Lazy, taunting, with plain appreciation of the woman.

Catherine couldn’t help but lower her eyelashes. Her last layer of defense.

Damian’s eyes linger on her collarbone for long seconds. His explicit observation trailed down her body all the way to her ankle. Then he tilts his head to take a good look at her one good ankle.

Around her ankle swims an inked little fish.

“Cute tattoo,” The man nods his chin at Catherine, a rare shade of seriousness in his eyes, “is that the only one you ever got?”

“Yes,” Catherine answers, only to notice her nervousness when she hears her own voice.

She thought she was ready. She would never be.

Damian curves his lips tauntingly, seeing through her, too.

“Drink,”

Cathering’s eyes follow Damian’s nod. A clean glass on the coffee table right next to his leg. Water this time.

Catherine cuts her nail deep into her own finger, using the pain to help her walk straight without shaking. She once took a model job for fun. Even on the stage for thousands of eyes and cameras, she didn’t feel like she had three legs like right now.

Maybe this is the feeling of dealing with the devil.

It’s not water.

Catherine pauses at the first sip, then her beautiful eyebrows twist into a knot.

“Finish,” The man holds the glass up with a finger when she tries to put it down, his tone dominant this time, “Ginger fights off the cold you would catch tomorrow if you don’t.”

“I hate ginger,” Catherine blurts without thinking.

“Of course you do,” Damian chuckles, a laugh in his gentle eyes, but there is no room in his tone to disobey him, “that’s why I added honey.”

Sweet only makes the bitter taste more gross.

Catherine shoots the man an upset glance, not sure if he is making her drink this just to mess with her. But she is no longer Quinn’s little princess. Her father died and her mother on the edge of death, waiting for her to save her.

She can’t afford to throw a tantrum for a nasty taste.

Damian watches the girl closely. She frowns. Winkles her nose. Gulps to shorten her torment. Her chest waves to take the liquid in. In the end, she licks her own lips to reduce the smell lingering there.

Subconsciously, his throat rolls slowly with her move.

The dim air around them suddenly catches a shade of lust.

The girl puts the glass on the table lightly, though with a hint of blame when she turns to look at him.

The man chuckles, leaning close. He could feel the girl’s body stiffen even before making contact, but still she maintains her calm mask, with a flattering smile even.

“Good kitten,” Damian whispers into her ear, feeling her breath got messy under his hand, “Would you want...to be mine?”