Offended Honor

Later that night, I made my way to the bar. The dimly lit bar greeted me like an old friend, its soothing embrace providing a respite from the maelstrom raging within me. I sank onto a stool at the aged wooden counter, the cool surface providing a brief respite from the chaos of my thoughts.

The bartender, a grizzled man with a compassionate expression, gave me a knowing nod. "Rough day?" he asked me, his voice rough but compassionate.

I attempted a faint smile, my lips shaking with effort. "Well…You could say that," I responded, barely above a whisper.

Without saying anything, the bartender poured me a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid glinting in the faint glow of the bar lights. I placed my quivering fingers around the glass, letting the warmth absorb into my bones like a soothing embrace.

I raised the glass to my lips and took a deep swallow all at once, the flaming liquid burning a trail down my throat. With each gulp, I felt the weight of my troubles lift, the alcohol soothing the sharp edges of my sorrow.

But under the surface, the unrest raged on, threatening to engulf me. I poured myself another glass, closed my eyes and took another gulp, hoping the liquor would drown out the memories that tormented me, if only for a short minute longer.

While I nursed my drink, the bartender leaned closer, his eyes conveying a gentle understanding. "You're not the only one who's sought refuge in this bar," he remarked softly. "Sometimes, a little liquid courage is all we have to get us through the tough times. Ha-ha!"

I nodded in appreciation for the bartender's words of wisdom. "It's just... everything feels like it's falling apart," I admitted, my voice shaking from emotion.

The bartender gave me a sympathetic grin. "Life has a funny way of throwing surprises when we least expect it!" he said. "But you'll make it through this. "You're stronger than you think!"

I took a deep breath, the weight of my troubles feeling a little lighter with the bartender's reassurance. "Thank you," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

The bartender gave me a knowing nod. "Anytime," he said, before moving to attend to another customer.

I swirled the remainder of my drink in my glass, the alcohol blurring my eyesight and making me dizzy.

Across the dimly lit bar, I noticed a figure that appeared to shimmer in the faint glow of the lights. Damian. He exuded a magnetic aura that drew me in, and without hesitation, I weaved my way through the crowded room to approach him.

I finally reached his side and cleared my throat, my speech somewhat slurred from the drink. "Hiya!," I said, my words full of enthusiasm. I couldn't help but notice ya from across the room. "Mind if I join ya?"

Damian turned to meet my gaze, a cheeky flash in his eyes and a lovely smile. "Of course," he said, indicating toward the unoccupied stool beside him. "Please, have a seat."

I sat on the stool, grateful for his pleasant greeting, my heart beating with fear as she tried to catch her breath. "I'm…I'm Seraphina," I said, my voice full of passion.

"Seraphina," Damian repeated, his tone tinged with curiosity. "That's a beautiful name. It suits you."

I felt a blush rise to her cheeks at his compliment, a shy smile gracing my lips. "Thank you," I replied, feeling a surge of confidence at his kind words. "And you are?"

"Damian," he replied, offering me his hand in greeting. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Seraphina."

I giggled, my words slurring slightly as I leaned closer to Damian. "You know," I whispered, my breath warm against his ear, "I've always believed in fate. And I think... I think fate brought us together tonight."

Damian chuckled, his own words slightly muddled from the effects of the alcohol. "Is that so?" he replied, his voice tinged with amusement. "And what does fate have in store for us, hmm?"

My lips curled into a mischievous grin as I leaned back, my eyes sparkling with mischief. "I think fate wants us to... to have some fun," I said, my words trailing off into a soft giggle.

Without waiting for a response, I reached out, my fingers tangling in Damian's hair as I pulled him closer. Our lips met in a dizzying rush of desire, our bodies pressing together in a desperate embrace.

In that moment, all my thoughts of pain and betrayal melted away, replaced by a raw hunger that burned deep within us. I lost herself in Damian's touch, my senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating heat of our passion.

"Damian," I stopped and murmured, my words slightly slurred as I gazed into his eyes with a playful glint. "You know what? I think we should... we should get a room."

Damian's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his lips curving into a crooked smile. "A room?" he repeated, his voice tinged with amusement. "Are you sure about that?"

I nodded eagerly, my cheeks flushed with excitement. "Yeah, yeah, I'm sure," I replied, my words tumbling out in a rush. "I mean, why not, right? We're both... we're both adults. And I think... I think we deserve to have some fun."

Damian chuckled softly, his hand reaching out to gently cup my cheek. "I couldn't agree more," he said, his voice low and husky with desire. "Lead the way then . I'm all yours tonight!"

I smiled and grabbed Damian's hand in mine, my heart racing with anticipation as I led him out of the pub and into the night, our laughter ringing in the darkness as we disappeared into the unknown.

The next morning…

The first rays of dawn filtered through the holes in the curtains, gently illuminating the room as I awoke from my restless sleep. My head swelled with the aftereffects of yesterday night's excess, a heavy ache that mirrored the weight of shame in my chest.

I hurriedly sat up in bed, "God, what have I done?" I mumbled to myself, my voice barely audible. I ran a trembling hand through my tousled hair, the events of the previous night replaying in my head like a broken record.

I closed my eyes, with the hope that the events of last night would be dismissed but they refused. "You've made a mess of things, Seraphina," I told myself, my words tainted with self-loathing. "You let your pain and anger consume you, and now look where it's gotten you."

I hurriedly packed my stuff and prepared to leave but before leaving, I reached into my purse and withdrew a handful of bills, totaling a hundred and fifty dollars. Placing the money on the bedside table, I paused, my heart heavy with conflicted emotions. With trembling fingers, I hastily scrawled a note of gratitude, expressing my thanks to Damien for the night.

I felt panic as I slipped out of bed, my movements hurried and shaky. I gave Damian one more glimpse, his form serene in sleep, before turning away with a sorrowful heart.

I paused at the door, my fingers hesitating over the handle for a while. But the lure of freedom was too powerful to resist, and with a shaky hand, I softly slid the door wide and slipped out into the cool morning silence.

Much later, when I had left, Damian awoke from his slumber, his mind muddled and difficult to wake. He stretched out automatically, expecting to find me beside him, but his fingers touched only empty sheets, a jarring reminder of my absence.

"Bloody hell, where's she gone to?" Damian mumbled beneath his breath, his voice full of disappointment. He massaged his eyes, attempting to shake off the traces of sleep while struggling to make sense of the scenario.

His gaze fell upon the bedside table where I had left the money and note. With a scoff, he reached for the bills, his fingers flicking them disdainfully as if they were mere scraps of paper.

To Damien, accustomed to wealth and opulence, and being one of the most influential in the city, the sight of a paltry sum such as a hundred and fifty dollars held little significance. It was a mere trifle, a token gesture that seemed almost laughable in the grand scheme of his riches.

Where did I go? And why had I left without saying a word? The questions raced through his thoughts, each more puzzling than the previous.

Damian clinched his teeth, his pride stung by the idea that he could be bought for a handful of bucks. How dare I reduce their night together to just an exchange of money?

He went for his phone with a determined frown, his fingers speeding over the keys as he phoned a known number. As soon as the phone call connected, he issued his command to his devoted associates.

"Find her! That lady that I spent the night with!" he demanded, his voice taut with barely contained rage. "And bring her to me."

His tone was clear, and his resolve was solid. Damian was one of the city's wealthiest men, and seeing the money felt like a slap in the face.