Chapter 218: The Emotionally Dessert Devil

?Damian’s eyes narrowed. "Why?"

?"The consumer index just closed for the afternoon," Henry said, handing the tablet over. "Sterling Retail and Vance Luxury holdings just jumped four point eight percent. Retail investors are calling it the ’most humanizing corporate moment of the fiscal year.’ Pre-orders for the winter Vance collection spiked by forty percent in forty-five minutes."

?Jullian choked on his scotch, coughing violently as he doubled over in the armchair.

?"I can’t breathe!" Jullian gasped between hysterical laughs. "You got pied with dairy and your net worth went up! God really does favor the wicked!"

?Damian stared at the glowing green numbers on the screen. The grim, murderous scowl on his face deepened, utterly repulsed by the fact that getting publicly humiliated by his ex-wife was making him richer.

?He thrust the tablet back into Henry’s chest. "Take the numbers and leave, Henry."

?"Right away, sir," Henry muttered, smartly retreating out the door before the blast radius expanded.

?Jullian drained the rest of his scotch, setting the crystal glass down on the side table with a satisfied clatter. He stood up, smoothing down the front of his tailored charcoal blazer, checking his platinum wristwatch with sudden purpose.

?"Well, as much as I’d love to stay and watch you nurse your bruised ego," Jullian said, flashing a roguish, confident smirk, "I have far more important business to attend to."

?Damian didn’t look up from his desk. "What business?"

?"A lunch reservation at Le Bernardin," Jullian declared proudly, running a hand through his styled hair. "I’m taking Clara out. She’s finally recovering, and I intend to spend the afternoon properly wooing my future wife until she stops treating me like an annoying pest."

?"She doesn’t even like you." Damian slowly raised his head. His dark, deadpan gaze locked onto Jullian with zero warmth, his baritone slicing through the air with ice-cold sincerity.

"Yet... but soon she won’t be able to resist my charms."

?"May you never succeed."

?Jullian gasped, clutching his chest in theatrical offense. "You bitter, miserable bastard! Just because your woman shoved gelato up your nose doesn’t mean you have to curse my love life!"

?"Get out, Montgomery," Damian growled, leaning forward over his paperwork.

?"I’m leaving! And when Clara says yes, you’re not getting an invite to the wedding!" Jullian barked back, spinning on his heel toward the double doors.

?He grabbed the brass handle, tossing one last wicked grin over his shoulder.

?"Don’t forget to wipe your chin, Damian. You missed a spot of chocolate."

?The heavy door clicked shut just before Damian’s silver paperweight slammed hard into the polished wood right where Jullian’s head had been.

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

The sun dipped low behind the Manhattan skyline, casting long, amber shadows across Damian’s penthouse suite.

?Ana sat curled on the plush cream chaise by the windows, a slim leather notebook balanced on her knees, pen tapping lightly against her chin. Across the expanse of the living area, Damian was unbuttoning his vest, pouring himself a short glass of bourbon after a relentless day of market control.

?He glanced over, his dark eyes lingering on the neat handwriting filling the cream pages.

?"What are you scribbling?" Damian asked, taking a slow sip as he stepped into the living room, exuding his usual predatory calm.

?Ana didn’t look up immediately. She finished dotting an ’i’, blowing softly over the ink before snapping the journal shut.

?"My homework," Ana said casually, resting her elbows on her knees. "Dr. Hayes told me that part of my emotional recovery is writing down a list of personal wishes. Small things, big things... things that bring me comfort."

?Damian stopped near the marble fireplace, an eyebrow arching with mild, arrogant interest. "And what does the good doctor expect you to do with that list? Burn it under a full moon?"

?"No," Ana replied with an airy shrug. "He told me to share it with the person closest to me. So they can understand what I need to heal."

?Damian’s chest puffed up just a fraction. He casually swirled his bourbon, stepping closer, ready to receive the list like a king humoring a subject’s petition.

?"Well?" Damian prompted smoothly. "Hand it over."

?Ana tilted her head, her hazel eyes dancing with pure innocence. "Why would I give it to you? I’m sending it to Clara."

?Damian froze.

?His hand paused mid-swirl, the ice clinking against crystal in the dead silence. His dark brow climbed higher, his obsidian gaze narrowing into sharp, offended disbelief.

?"Clara?" Damian’s deep baritone dropped into an icy, questioning register. "Why her? Why not me?"

?Ana stared at him for two seconds, her mouth falling open.

?Then she burst into genuine, unrestrained laughter.

?"Are you kidding me?!" Ana laughed, shaking her head as if he had just made the world’s most absurd joke. "Damian, did you honestly, truly think you are close to me?"

?The humor in her voice was like a bucket of ice water to his ego.

?Damian’s jaw hardened, his posture stiffening into rigid stone. The untouchable billionaire looked personally, deeply affronted.

?"I took two high-caliber bullets to the spine for you," Damian stated, his voice flat, dangerously low, and loaded with indignation. "I bought off your family’s ruinous debt. I put a global security grid around your life, I take care of your every need, and I personally drove forty miles this morning to verify your medical care. And after all that... I’m not close to you?"

?He took a slow step forward, genuine, baffled irritation flaring across his dark features.

?"That is wildly unfair, Anastasia."

?Ana stopped laughing. She looked at his tall, brooding frame, offering him an awkward, faintly apologetic smile that did nothing to soften the blow.

?"Damian... you’re just not what I want right now," she told him gently, tilting her head. "Dr. Hayes said I need warmth. I need emotionally rich people in my life to heal. And frankly... you are not one of them. You’re an emotional desert."

?Damian’s jaw ticked violently.

?He stared down at her, his eyes burning with dark, incredulous heat. The man who made hedge fund managers weep in boardrooms was standing in his own living room, holding a glass of bourbon, getting rejected for lack of "emotional richness."

?"You are being exceptionally mean right now," Damian growled, scowling with deep, sullen displeasure.

?"I’m being realistic," Ana countered breezily, tapping the cover of her notebook against her palm. She stood up from the chaise, smoothing down her knit skirt, meeting his towering glare without an ounce of fear. "Though... I might consider revising my personal choices. If you actually prove to be better for me."

?Damian took half a step into her space, looming over her until his broad shadow completely enveloped her frame. His obsidian gaze dipped down to her upturned face, dark, possessive, and dangerously close.

?"You do realize, don’t you?" Damian murmured, his baritone dropping into a low, velvet threat that sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. "You are getting away with just anything these days."

?Ana didn’t flinch.

?Instead, a slow, wicked smirk curved her pink lips as she tilted her chin up to meet his eyes.

?"Am I?"