Damon blackwood full of regrets the moment he signed the divorce papers. He never expected that his supposedly timid boring ex-wife Lillian Ashford, would move on overnight turning into the woman everyone in Las Vegas feared and admired. Not only did Jaxon Thornfield,the heir of an elite family,claim to be her personal bodyguard,but a top Hollywood actor swore to be her die-hard fan. Even the weathiest moguls in the country treated her like a legend. I don't care how powerful you're become, Lillian Ashford. I'll tear down your wall!"Damon vowed.
view moreDamon Standing by the bar, his back straight and strong jawline precisely positioned under the overhead lights. Though his posture shouted strength, his look as it fixed on her revealed something more. It was the fervour. The same look he had given her in their past: deadly, demanding, impossible to ignore. Lillian's heart leapt. She had hoped the distance between them would lessen the impact he had on her, but seeing him now, so near, only made the old feelings rise. The draw. The recollections. The turmoil that came after them both. She kept looking. She was unable to. Watching her, Damon narrowed his gaze and his face became inscrutable. Lillian drew a breath and gathered herself. She was no longer the lady who had allowed him to control her life. She was no longer that naive girl trapped in the undertow of his charm and power. A well-meaning server walked by and a glass of champagne materialised in her palm. Grounding her, she sipped and felt the cool liquid slide down her th
This isn't correct, she thought, her hold on the glass tightening. Damon's desire to Lillian wasn't only physical; it was more like a shift, a change in the air that Seraphina couldn't ignore. Lillian was turning into a danger Seraphina could no longer deny. The woman was lovely and confident; now, it appeared she was sliding under Damon's skin in ways Seraphina could not control. A real smile filling her face, her breath hitched as she watched Lillian chuckle at something Knox had said. Knox's hand brushing against her waist as he leaned in was all too much. Turning fast and with a hardened expression, Seraphina looked for an ally's solace. Her gaze roamed the room until they found one guy she trusted, Jaxon Thornfield, a man with ties and loyalties extending well beyond what most people knew. She had no time to lose. Seraphina's voice fell to a whisper as she walked towards him, her heels tapping hard on the marble. This has to be fixed right away. We have to correct this. At th
"Even more breathtaking up close," Knox remarked, his voice strong enough for Damon to hear. The liquid within had long since forgotten, hence Damon's hold on his whisky glass grew tighter. The words' sound hurt; his chest tightened as he watched every motion between them. He had knew Lillian was interesting. But Knox's remarks and the way he held her attention so naturally caused something in Damon crack. Anger was bubbling under the surface, ready to explode. He understood how this game operated. Always in charge, always the one who decided the terms, he had played it many times. But now, with Lillian, everything was changing. Though she wasn't his to control, the idea of losing her to someone, someone like Knox, seemed a betrayal, a hurt that would last forever. He ought to have been the one to cause her to grin like that. He ought to have been the one to notice that sparkle in her eyes. But he wasn't. It was Knox Vandermeer. Lillian looked up to see Damon staring at her from
"Lillian," Damon whispered under his breath, his voice almost inaudible among the gala's murmuring. Yet she remained still. She didn't even blink. His voice seemed to be just another sound in the symphony of conversation surrounding her. A voice next to him shattered the stillness. "She's out of your reach now," he said. Standing only a few steps away, Jaxon Thornfield had his hands casually folded behind his back. Damon's jaw tightened. "I can manage her," he murmured, the words feeling harsh on his mouth. He was unsure if he was convincing Jaxon, himself, or the picture of Lillian in front of him. Could you? Jaxon enquired, his voice a soft provocation. Damon was silent. His attention stayed on Lillian, whose head was somewhat askew as she chuckled at something a man next to her said. Unlike the woman he had known, her laugh was warm, vibrant, and full of life. So different from the lady who previously chuckled just for him. Will she remember you back? Jaxon pushed, his voice
Jaxon said, "You know," his voice cutting through his musings. I've never seen her like this before. She has always been able, but now? Now she is in a class of her own. Damon looked at him, unaware he had been gazing at her. His gaze returned to Lillian, observing her chuckle at something a high-ranking official had said. Her beauty wasn't the only thing that captivated him. It was how simply she ruled every place she walked into. Every movement was intentional. Every syllable was a deliberate action. Damon grumbled under his breath that she had always been able, but the comments seemed empty, far too feeble for the lady in front of him. You didn't see what I saw back then, right? Jaxon went on, his eyes sparkling with something resembling amusement. She was always more than you thought. Damon's heart thudded as Lillian's eyes caught his for a brief second before she turned back to the discussion, expertly reclaiming her dominant position. Their relationship, whatever it had been
"Damon," a voice interrupted his daydreaming and he blinked. Beside him, Jaxon Thornfield stood, his gaze also on Lillian. You appear to be as fascinated as everyone else. Damon remained silent, his mouth clenching as he kept staring at Lillian. She had not yet seen him, but it was just a question of time. She was now too unstoppable, too powerful. Lillian's eyes ran over the throng as she crossed the floor; for the briefest time, she looked at Damon. Damon's heart raced. For a fleeting second, he believed he saw something, perhaps familiarity or warmth, but it disappeared very immediately. As though he were just another face in the throng, she turned away without a sign of hesitation. When Jaxon nudged him, he was still looking. Jaxon said, his voice sarcastic, "You should go talk to her." Damon, "She's not the girl you left behind." Damon's eyes narrowed, but his speech was laboured. The past doesn't interest me. Jaxon lifted an eyebrow. "Not?" Then why do you seem to have j
"Get up, Jaxon," Lillian murmured softly, but her tone had a sharp edge that only those who knew her well could comprehend. "Your place is known to both of us." Not for a second losing eye contact with Lillian, Jaxon got up not flinching. Though nearly undetectable, his grin revealed to Damon the respect in his eyes. A sort of respect Damon had not earned. Damon's heart raced in his chest and, for the first time, he understood he was no longer the most strong player in the room. Though the discussion in the room started up again, Damon's thoughts raced but his attention remained on Lillian and Jaxon. He could sense the jealousy creeping up his back, but more than that, a deep, strange sensation took hold in his stomach, a mix of respect and anger. The lady he once owned, the one he believed he could was suddenly demanding the respect of guys like Jaxon Thornfield. For all his might, Damon had no clue how to react to this fresh Lillian. Though the ice had long since melted into no
Is that… Lillian Ashford? one woman exclaimed softly. As she walked, her dress swirled about her, a perfect dark blue silk glistening under the chandeliers. Every action was a dance; each stride was intentional, elegant. Lillian's serenity had a hint of strength even as she held her chin high, every inch of her exuding authority. She wasn't only at this gala; she was running it. Damon Blackwood stood at the far end of the room, his gaze fixed on her the instant she walked in. He tightened his hold on the whisky glass crystal. He had not anticipated this; he had not anticipated her appearance. She was no longer the lady who had held upon him for support. This Lillian was impenetrable; her confidence was as much a weapon as her attractiveness. A man next to him grumbled, attempting to keep his voice down but failing, "I heard she's taken the industry by storm." Damon, his eyes on her, said nothing. As she chatted with some of the city's most influential people, Lillian's smooth, con
Leaning in next to him, Seraphina held a glass of champagne and wore a flirtatious smile. She patted him gently, saying, "You did well today." Damon, though, felt hardly at all. His eyes were on the throng, his mind elsewhere. "Yeah, I did," he said, trying to create a smile but not looking where he was pointing. She laughed gently, a sound that irritated his margins of tolerance. "You are a really diligent worker. Damon, you have to let go. Let's celebrate correctly. Now is the moment to savour your efforts. Once more his eyes strayed to the window, the vast city below, but it was the emptiness in his chest that drew his attention. Something was lacking even with the success and wealth—the accomplishments. While Seraphina kept praising, her voice soft and consistent, Damon's mind returned to Lillian. Her knowledge of his needs before he ever became aware of them was consistent. The way she had anchored him when his goal seemed about to separate him. She had stood as his counterpo
Lillian, this is not about love. It comes down to obligation. Her father spoke with a hard, relentless quality. Edward Ashford was a man fashioned from stone, his presence an immobile force in the upper society of New York. His slicked back salt-and-pepper hair, his perfect tailored suit, a picture of control and expectation. Lillian's emerald-green eyes flicked up to meet his sight. And what about satisfaction? A scorn. A contemptuous sweep of his hand. You have wasted too much time believing in illogical dreams. Married to Damon Blackwood guarantees our legacy. Only that counts. Blackwood, Damon Just the name caused her to shiver involuntarily. Everyone in the city knew him, the cold, merciless billionaire who used iron fists to build his empire. Their participation had been planned for years, whispered in elite social circles, but he had never once acknowledged her presence. just a contract; nothing more. No flowers, no proposals, no softly worded pledges. Just a legal agreemen...
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