Angry Damon

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CHAPTER 20

~Arianna’s POV~

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Damon didn’t return to the office, and for that, I was grateful. 

I buried myself in the tasks left on my desk, trying to ignore the lingering tension from our earlier encounter. But no matter how hard I tried, his words refused to leave my mind.

"The only man in your life is me."

It was infuriating. Arrogant. Possessive. And yet... it stirred something I couldn’t quite put into words. 

I managed to focus on the tasks he left for me through email and got them done even though it was way harder than serving and waiting tables.

By the time we returned to the penthouse, the sky was painted in streaks of orange and pink, the city glowing beneath us. I hadn’t seen Damon since we left the car, and honestly, I preferred it that way.

I made my way to the kitchen, my stomach growling as I opened the fridge. There were all sorts of drinks there but I didn’t want wine or yoghurt. I wanted…

My eyes lit up when I saw an apple juice, one of my favourites. I picked it up and turned. I caught sight of a small bowl of fruit on the kitchen dining table and I grabbed it, popping a grape into my mouth as I turned to leave.

That’s when I heard it. Damon’s cold voice cut through the silence, making me jolt on my feet.

I froze, my hand tightening around the bowl as I edged closer to the living room. His tone was sharper than I’d ever heard it before, laced with a fury that sent a chill down my spine.

“No excuses,” he growled. “I don’t care if they ran to the ends of the earth. I want them found. Every. Last. One.”

There was a pause, and I imagined the person on the other end stammering under his wrath.

“They dared to burn part of my vineyard,” Damon continued, his voice dropping dangerously low. “Make an example of them. I want the leader brought to me… alive.” He put so much emphasis on the last word that I felt a chill run down my spine for the culprit. 

“The rest?” I heard him say two seconds later. “Do what you will. Tear them apart and feed them to the wolves for all I care. Make them pay in blood.”

The sheer venom in his voice made my skin crawl. I backed away, not wanting to hear more. But before I could retreat, Damon’s sharp gaze caught me in the dim light.

“You,” he called, his voice cutting through the space like a whip. “Come here.”

I hesitated, my pulse quickening. His eyes were dark, his expression filled with rage and for a moment, I considered running back to my room.

But I knew better.

I stepped forward, clutching the bowl of fruit tightly. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” I said quickly. “I was just—”

“Spare me your excuses,” Damon interrupted, waving me closer. “Since you’re here, you’ll be joining me.”

“What?” I asked, blinking in confusion.

His lips curled into a dangerous smirk. “Get dressed. Something… provocative. We’re going out.”

My heart sank at his words. First of all, provocative. Second, going out. 

Two encounters with him already left a bad taste in my memory. “Where are we going?” I managed to ask amidst my rowing fear.

“Don’t ask questions,” he snapped, his tone brooking no argument. “Just do as I say.”

I wanted to argue, to push back against his command, but the look in his eyes silenced me. He was angry, and seething. And I had no desire to provoke him further.

Without another word, I turned on my heel and hurried to my room.

***************

Twenty minutes later, I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the deep red dress that clung to my curves. It wasn’t my first choice—not by a long shot—but it was the least revealing of the options Damon had bought for me.

The neckline dipped just low enough to make me uncomfortable, and the slit up the side made me feel exposed, but I couldn’t risk testing Damon’s patience tonight. Not with the storm brewing behind those eyes.

As I stepped out into the hallway, Damon was already waiting, dressed in his usual all-black attire that screamed power and authority. His gaze swept over me, lingering for a moment before he turned and motioned for me to follow.

The ride to our destination was tense. Damon’s jaw was tight, his hands gripping the steering wheel as the city lights blurred past us.

I didn’t dare ask where we were going or why.

When the car finally came to a stop, we were in front of a dimly lit club, the bass from the music inside vibrating through the air. A line of people stretched along the sidewalk, but the bouncer stepped aside immediately when he saw Damon.

He placed a hand on the small of my back, guiding me inside with a firm pressure that left no room for hesitation.

The interior was dark and crowded, the air thick with the scent of alcohol and sweat. My senses were overwhelmed—the flashing lights, the pounding music, the press of bodies—but Damon seemed unfazed, moving through the crowd with ease.

We reached a private booth at the back of the club, where a group of men were already waiting. They stood as we approached. Respect and fear clouding their faces.

Damon gestured for me to sit beside him, his hand resting possessively on my thigh as he leaned back, commanding the room with a single glance.

As the men began to talk, discussing deals and alliances, I couldn’t help but feel out of place, a pawn in whatever game Damon was playing.

But one thing was clear—tonight, I was his. Whether I liked it or not.

After some minutes, I was becoming too bored. As though he noticed, he whispered in my ears. “Go order whatever you want, little fire, and be quick.”