AMELIA My heart stuttered for a second as I smelled his perfume and felt the sheets slowly peel off me. "Damian," I whispered because we were in the dark, and it seemed only fitting to whisper in the dark. "How- when did you get in here?" My last word ended in a groan as I felt him plant a burning kiss on my back. I tried to turn, but his body was pressed against my back. "Sssh," he whispered. Damian swept the sheets onto the floor. His hands slid underneath my nightie. He wrapped one hand around my waist, and the other made its way to knead my breasts. He tugged on my nipples and rubbed them between his fingers. "Damian... please..." I moaned. "Hush now," Damian murmured, his lips close to my ear. This was torture: the constant mood swings, the attitude he gave me and the unsure feelings he planted in my head. Yet, I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to touch him, but his arm prevented me from moving an inch. And then suddenly, he flipped me over until I was lying
DAMIAN"I guess we have covered everything, right?" I asked, looking around the table at my business partners. "We sure did," Matt said, and there were murmurs of assent from the others. I began to gather up and arrange the files in front of me. The other men started to talk amongst themselves. From beside me, Matt stifled a yawn and patted his tummy, which was scarcely concealed by the suit he wore. "It's been a tedious meeting. I'm starving," he said.I smiled at him. "Hold your horses, Matt. We'll soon be on our way for our usual business lunch in a few minutes.""Hey, Damian," Chris, three seats away from me, turned to me. "Yes?" "I heard your wife owns a bakery now.""Yes," I replied. Most of the other men in the room had stopped talking and seemed to be waiting for me to say something more. "She's making quite a success of it so far," I added.I quickly turned away and began stuffing the papers into my suitcase, hoping that would put a stop to the questions about Amelia. T
DAMIAN“I hate what you do to me,” the words kept replaying in my head repeatedly. But what hurt me the most was the look on her face when she said that. I didn’t want to hurt her. I didn’t. Leaning back in my chair, I stared and kept staring at one of the plaques that decorated the walls of my office. It had a considerable amount of words written on it, outlining a series of mottos people were supposed to live by, but what my eyes kept getting stuck on was the word 'admit'. That word called to me. I sighed. With every day that passed, I was beginning to admit to myself that I had never enjoyed sex as much as I did with Amelia. She was like a virus in my blood, some sort of drug that I couldn't get out of my system. Had I thought that having sex with her the second time would rid me of my craving for her? That was a laugh! In retrospect, I would say that going back for more had even worsened the situation. It would be liberating to have someone to talk about this to, someone who wo
AMELIA "Ma'am, there are some people here to see you," Ashley said, hurrying up to me while on my way into my office, and I felt my stomach drop with anxiety. My palms began to sweat. I felt a myriad of emotions- nervousness among them. Was it Damian again? I could feel my cheeks heating up. Goodness! I really needed to get a grip. At this stage, I would never be able to maintain my composure whenever he was around- something I badly wanted to learn how to do. He always seemed to shake my every thought whenever he was around me. I could barely think for myself or even hold up to the promises I made to myself. "Is my-" I paused and spoke again, trying to frame my thoughts into words. "I mean, is it-" I stuttered, but Ashley seemed to know what I was trying to say. She shook her head. "No, it isn't Mr Donovan... or his friends. They are-""Some other people?" She nodded. "Okay."I shut the door of my office more firmly and went over to the showroom. I stopped at the threshold and
AMELIA "You came here straight from the bakery?" Damian's quiet voice nearly made me jump off the couch in surprise. As I did every time I came home, I flopped down on the living room couch and began to massage my aching feet. Damian was never in sight when I returned. He specialized in always keeping out of my way except for the few occasions when we got thrown together, and he couldn't keep his hands off me. I had expected him, as usual, to be holed up in his room or his study, as he always was, so I didn't notice him sitting on one of the couches. He raised his brows when I did not answer and put away a book I suspected he had not been reading. He had the air of someone who wanted to get something off his chest. "Er- good evening, Damian," I answered, wondering why he was suddenly interested in where I had been. He inclined his head in response to my greeting and repeated his question. "Yes, I came straight from the bakery."He glanced at the clock. I followed the direction of
DAMIAN I was oddly tense, and I didn't know why. Or maybe I did, and I was trying to shelve my feelings. Perhaps if I didn't acknowledge them, they would fade away. Beside me, Anton was droning on and on about all he had gotten up to with the Paris model, now in his employ. Anton, naturally, was an excellent conversationist and a good storyteller, and usually, I would be neck-deep in his stories, laughing and asking for more details. But not today. "Hey, Damian. Are you even listening to me?" His enquiry brought me back to the present. I nodded and forced my facial muscles to relax into a smile. "Of course I am," I replied. "Go on. And the fashion shows you went to? Did you get any new design ideas?" I had said the right thing. Anton's eyes lit up in excitement. He continued talking animatedly, waving his fork about and jabbing it in the air sometimes to emphasise his point while I tried to keep an interested expression on my face. And then she came into the room,
DAMIAN “What problem?” Anton cocked an eyebrow. “You’re clearly in love with her. Can’t you see that?” I scoffed. “In love? That’s quite funny. Why would I fall in love with Amelia? Is she any different from all the women I’ve been with?” Anton crossed his arms and leaned closer to me. “I’m tempted to believe you, but I have eyes, Damian. And what they tell me is far from what you’re saying. You almost exploded because I called her beautiful. You were jealous. Jealousy is an extra package that accompanies love.” “I’m not jealous.” I gulped down the contents of my glass. “I don’t want you to flirt with my wife or talk about her, especially when she can hear you.” “Ok,” Anton smiled, and I knew he was up to something. “Let’s believe you don’t love Amelia. I want to take you back to your old self. You’ve become boring. If you don’t love your wife, you wouldn’t mind having an erotic life, would you?” I stared back at him intensely, torn between accepting his crude pla
DAMIAN "Something important just came up, and we need to talk," I said as I entered the room and perched on the edge of Amelia's dresser. She had been busily writing something that looked like supplies she would be getting for her store. From where I sat, I could make out the words 'flour' and 'sugar'. "Okay. Give me just a second." She wrote something quickly, pushed the paper away, and gave me her full attention. "Okay. So this is about Petra," I began. "Petra?" Amelia blinked. The name obviously meant nothing to her. It was a bit surprising to me, who liked to keep tabs on everyone remotely important. But Amelia wasn't like that. It seemed she hadn't bothered to learn more about the inner workings of the family she had married into. "Yes, Petra. She is- sorry, was my late Uncle's wife. The uncle I'm referring to is-" "The one who willed you his company?" I nodded. "Yes, the very same. So, he was married to Petra for several god-awful years. Everyone except