Chapter 212: The Devil Grew A Soul?

?Damian didn’t smile. His hand didn’t stop its steady motion with the towel, though his dark eyebrows drew together in a faint, grumpy scowl.

?"Don’t flatter yourself, Anastasia," he replied flatly, his gravelly voice vibrating low in his chest. "I’m not running a charity. I simply have no desire to deal with a corpse on my floor. I am ruthless, not inhuman."

?Ana rolled her eyes with a quiet huff of laughter, resting her chin comfortably against his knee.

?Whatever biting excuse he threw at her, she didn’t care. She liked this side of him. She liked the quiet, unhurried weight of his hands, the rare absence of threats, and the comforting stillness he created when he wasn’t trying to tear down the world around them.

?Damian tossed the damp towel onto the credenza behind him and reached for the coffee table. He picked up one of the porcelain cups, testing the heat against his palm before sliding an arm under her back, effortlessly lifting her into a seated position beside him.

?"Drink," Damian commanded softly, holding the cup steady as she cupped her hands over his fingers.

?The fragrant steam of chamomile and honey washed over her face. She took a slow, soothing sip, the liquid spreading warmth straight down to her chest. With Damian holding the weight of the cup, she took another sip, letting her head lean naturally against his broad shoulder.

?The room settled back into that rare, peaceful silence.

?Damian set the empty cup back down on the silver tray. He leaned back against the deep leather cushions, his hands loosely resting on his thighs, his gaze drifting out toward the rain streaking down the glass.

?He didn’t look at her when he finally broke the quiet.

?"Take the therapy sessions."

?The words were so quiet, so devoid of his usual commanding bite, that Ana froze.

?She turned her head, looking at the sharp, aristocratic line of his jaw. He was staring straight ahead at the gray skyline, his profile carved from rigid, unreadable stone.

?"If you think talking to Hayes will help you..." Damian murmured, the words scraping past his throat with obvious reluctance, "then I won’t stop you. Go to Westchester. Book whatever hours you need. I will clear your calendar."

?A sudden, fragile flutter of hope bloomed in Anastasia’s chest.

?She stared at him, her heart beating with an unexpected, tender ache. After days of suffocating under his iron fist, after the fury and the crushing disappointment of the phantom pregnancy, this felt like an olive branch... a tiny window of genuine understanding.

?"Will you..." Ana hesitated, her fingers lightly curling into the fabric of his sleeve. "Will you come with me?"

?Damian’s jaw tightened.

?"No."

?The refusal was instantaneous, but it lacked his usual arrogance. It sounded heavy, hollowed out by a bitter, ancient finality.

?"Damian, it’s couple’s counseling," Ana said gently, shifting closer to him, her hazel eyes searching his closed-off face. "Dr. Hayes is there to help both of us sort through what happened. The baby... the divorce... everything we’ve been carrying. It could help you, too."

?"I don’t need a stranger in a tailored chair telling me how dark my world is, Anastasia," Damian said, his voice dropping into a low, dead register.

?Slowly, he turned his head, his obsidian eyes locking onto hers. The bottomless darkness in them made her breath hitch... it wasn’t anger; it was the chilling, absolute certainty of a man who had made peace with his own ruin long ago.

?"I know exactly what I am," Damian whispered, his gaze unyielding. "I know the rot in my blood, and I know the things I’m capable of. It can’t be fixed by talking, and it certainly can’t be changed. You take your healing doll. Leave the Devil in his hell."

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

By the time the private express lift glided down toward the lobby level, the storm had tapered to a thin, rhythmic patter against the street-level glass.

?Anastasia wore Damian’s long charcoal overcoat buttoned over a clean spare blouse Henry had quietly brought up from the executive suite closets. Her hair had dried into soft, loose waves around her shoulders, the fever flush on her cheeks dulled to a healthy warmth. Beside her, Damian stood with his hands tucked into his tailored trousers, his jaw set in its usual sharp, unreadable line, the scent of cedar and clean rain hanging around him.

?The bronze doors slid open.

?Ana stepped out first, expecting the muted evening quiet of the ground floor.

?Instead, two very familiar, very imposing silhouettes stood right in the center of the private executive receiving bay.

?Victoria Vance stood with her posture like an iron rod, draped in an immaculate ivory cashmere cape, her designer clutch held loosely in front of her. Beside her, Valerie leaned against a marble pillar, looking thoroughly dramatic in an oversized trench, tapping her manicured nails impatiently against her phone screen.

?Ana froze, her stomach tightening with an immediate flare of defensive panic. Not again.

?Valerie looked up first, her eyes widening as she took in the oversized coat engulfing Ana’s frame, then darted to her brother standing tall and intimidating just half a step behind her.

?"Well, well," Valerie chirped, pushing off the pillar with a sharp click of her heels. "Look who finally decided to come down from Mount Olympus."

?Victoria didn’t raise her voice, but her presence instantly absorbed all the oxygen in the corridor. She took two measured steps forward, her aristocratic chin lifted high, her gaze sweeping over Anastasia with a quick, clinical sweep that took in her rested, dry appearance.

?Then, Victoria turned her head... deliberately keeping her cold, assessing eyes fixed slightly past Damian’s left ear, refusing to meet his direct gaze even for a fraction of a second. The lingering freeze from their morning confrontation hung between them like a blade of ice.

?"The cars are already idling in the VIP subterranean concourse," Victoria announced crisply, her tone leaving absolutely no room for debate. "We are having a full family dinner tonight. At the estate in Greenwich. Just us, behind closed doors."

?Ana held her breath.

?Her hazel eyes darted instantly to Damian.

?A family dinner? After the shouting match this morning? After Damian had threatened to cut his sister’s trusts and had spent the entire afternoon radiating enough dark fury to level Wall Street?

?There was no way in hell. Damian would sooner tear up the pavement with his bare hands than endure an evening of passive-aggressive maternal lectures over soup spoons. Ana braced herself for the explosion, already waiting for the low, gravelly snarl that would send Victoria and Valerie packing.

?Damian remained entirely motionless.

?He looked down at his mother. His obsidian eyes were heavy, dark, and bottomless. He saw the cold line of her jaw, the calculated refusal to look him in the eye, and the rigid, unyielding stubbornness that he had, without a doubt, inherited entirely from her.

?A long, suffocating beat of silence stretched through the private bay.

?Then, Damian’s gravelly voice broke the quiet...

?"Tell the drivers to take the FDR Drive. Traffic will be lighter."

?The silence that followed was absolute.

?Ana’s mouth literally parted. She stared at him, her hazel eyes completely wide, wondering if the man standing beside her was an alien duplicate.

?Victoria’s stiff, unyielding posture visibly cracked for a fraction of a second. Her fingers tightened around the leather strap of her clutch, her gaze finally snapping down to meet his chest in sheer, unmasked disbelief. He hadn’t fought. He hadn’t sneered. He had simply... agreed.

?Valerie looked ready to faint.

?She slapped a dramatic palm over her chest, gasping so loudly it echoed off the marble walls, her jaw dropping open.

?"Holy mother of God," Valerie whispered, her eyes darting between Damian and the high ceiling as if waiting for a lightning bolt to strike the building. "Who are you, and what have you done with my demon brother? Quick, someone call Henry! Check his temperature! Damian Sterling just agreed to an unprompted family meal without threatening to disinherit someone!"

?Damian didn’t shift an inch, but his dark brows knitted into a dangerous, warning scowl as his eyes cut toward his sister. "Valerie. Shut your mouth before I make you walk to the estate."

?"See! He’s still in there somewhere!" Valerie laughed, entirely unbothered, stepping up beside Ana and linking an arm through hers with an impish, victorious grin. "Come on, Ana. Let’s get into the car before the Devil realizes he accidentally grew a soul."

?Ana couldn’t help the tiny, helpless smile that tugged at her lips, casting one last, bewildered glance at Damian over her shoulder.

?He didn’t look amused. But as he followed behind them with slow, steady strides, hands in his pockets, the terrifying, untouchable edge he carried all day felt just a tiny bit softer in the evening shadow.