Chapter 216: Stuff The Devil’s Face

The heavy silence inside the speeding Maybach was thick enough to choke on.

?Ana sat curled against the leather door, her eyes still faintly puffy, her trench coat pulled tightly around her frame. Across from her, Damian sat like a dark monolith, adjusting his platinum cufflinks, radiating pure, lethal composure as if she hadn’t just wept all over his chest twenty minutes ago.

?Ana sniffled, staring out at the glistening autumn streets of Manhattan. Her throat felt raw. Her chest ached.

?"I want ice cream," Ana announced suddenly, her voice raspy but firm.

?Damian didn’t even look up from his phone screen. "No."

?"I wasn’t asking for permission, Damian. I’m telling you," she shot back, turning to glare at his cold profile. "I’m sad. My head hurts, my chest feels like lead, and I want ice cream."

?Damian finally turned his head, his obsidian gaze sweeping over her with dry, arrogant amusement.

?"Will a scoop of frozen sugar automatically make you happy?" Damian drawled, his deep baritone dripping with mockery. "I didn’t know you were that cheap, Anastasia."

?Ana gasped, her mouth dropping open in utter disbelief. "Cheap?!"

?"A hundred million dollars in debt, yet your sorrow can be bought off by five dollars of dairy," he murmured smoothly, an infuriating smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Cheap."

?"You are an absolute monster!" Ana hissed, crossing her arms and kicking the back of the passenger seat. "Henry, pull over! Pull over at the next café or I will jump out of this moving car, I swear to God!"

?From the front, Henry’s eyes darted nervously to the rearview mirror.

?Damian’s jaw ticked. He stared at her fiery hazel eyes, daring her to test him. But seeing the stubborn, unyielding defiance burning through her lingering grief, he let out a short, irritated exhale through his nose.

?"Pull over, Henry," Damian commanded coldly. "Before she dents my leather."

?Five minutes later, they were tucked into a cozy, sunlit corner booth of an upscale artisan café in SoHo.

?A lavish, towering glass bowl of Belgian chocolate and salted caramel gelato sat between them, topped with fresh berries and dark chocolate shavings. Damian sat stiff as a board in his three-piece charcoal suit, looking completely out of place beneath the pastel fairy lights, sipping an espresso with pure disdain.

?Ana took a small, blissful bite, the cold sweetness soothing her frayed nerves.

?Then, her eyes drifted to the window booth across the café.

?A young couple was sitting together, giggling softly. The man leaned forward with a silver spoon, tenderly feeding a bite of strawberry tart directly into the woman’s mouth, brushing a crumb from her lip with his thumb.

?A mischievous, rebellious spark suddenly flared behind Ana’s hazel eyes.

?She turned back to the brooding billionaire sitting across from her.

?"Feed me," Ana demanded sweetly, resting her chin on her hands.

?Damian froze, the espresso cup pausing millimeters from his lips. He lowered the cup with agonizing slowness, staring at her like she had just asked him to strip naked in Times Square.

?"Excuse me?"

?"You heard me," Ana said, batting her lashes with exaggerated innocence, pointing her silver spoon at the gelato. "Feed me, Damian. That couple over there is doing it. It’s romantic. You’re my husband—ex-husband, whatever. Do it."

?"Are you out of your mind?" Damian sneered, his deep voice dropping into an icy, deadpan rasp. "I am not committing such a humiliating, childish act. Eat your own damn ice cream."

?"I don’t want to eat it myself," she pouted, leaning back into the leather booth. Then, her lips wobbled. Her eyes instantly welled with watery sheen, weaponizing her earlier breakdown with Oscar-worthy precision. "Fine. Don’t do it. My life is ruined anyway. I’m already in therapy, crying my eyes out, and you can’t even—"

?"Anastasia, do not start," Damian warned through gritted teeth, a muscle violently jumping in his jaw.

?"I feel the tears coming, Damian," she choked out, letting out a pitiful, trembling sniffle that made two nearby patrons glance over in alarm. "I’m going to start bawling. Right here. In front of everyone. The Devil of Wall Street starving and tormenting his poor ex-wife—"

?Suddenly, Damian’s sharp, predatory instincts flared.

?Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the subtle gleam of a smartphone camera two tables away. A young college girl had her phone angled right at them, eagerly recording the ruthless CEO of Sterling Global in broad daylight.

?Damian’s aura turned dangerous for a split second. Then, without missing a beat, his chiseled, lethal mask rearranged itself into a dazzling, picture-perfect smile.

?"Your wish is my command, darling," Damian purred, his voice dripping with silky, theatrical charm that made the hairs on Ana’s arms stand up.

?Ana blinked, utterly stunned by his sudden 180-degree pivot.

?Then she caught the tight, murderous twitch at the corner of his eye and realized they were being watched. A breathless, giddy laugh bubbled up in her chest. The great, untouchable titan was trapped by his own PR image.

?Smiling victoriously, Ana obediently opened her mouth, leaning forward like a pampered princess. "Aahhh."

?Damian scooped a ridiculously large, heaped spoonful of chocolate gelato. Leaning across the small wooden table with an angelic, doting smile, he shoved the entire overflowing spoon straight into her mouth.

?"Want me to stuff your face more, doll?" Damian murmured softly, his baritone laced with dark, venomous mockery as he pulled the spoon back.

?Ana’s cheeks puffed out, her teeth aching from the massive freezing lump. The cold shock hit her brain, and pure fury instantly incinerated her smugness.

?You arrogant bastard.

?Swallowing the frozen lump with a furious gulp, Ana didn’t waste a single heartbeat.

?Before Damian could set the spoon down, Ana grabbed her own silver spoon, plunged it deep into the dark caramel and berries, and scooped an enormous, dripping mound.

?Faster than a striking viper, Ana lunged across the table.

?SMACK!

?She jammed the overflowing spoon directly into Damian’s mouth, violently smearing sticky, dark chocolate and melted caramel all over his pristine lips, his stubbled chin, and the sharp curve of his jaw.

?Damian’s obsidian eyes snapped wide in absolute, horrifying shock.

?He froze completely, ice cream dripping down his chin onto his crisp white collar. The deadliest man in Manhattan sat paralyzed, wearing half a bowl of artisan gelato on his face.

?Across the table, Ana leaned back against the leather cushions, folding her arms over her chest, a wicked, triumphant smirk lighting up her radiant face.

?"Tastes good, doesn’t it, darling?" Ana purred smoothly, tilting her head. "Want me to stuff your face more?"