Chapter 229: The Devil’s Twisted Mind Games

The master bedroom of the penthouse was bathed in the cold, silver glow of the city skyline.

?Anastasia sat before the expansive vanity mirror in a soft, tailored robe, a damp cotton pad gripped in her fingers. She wiped away the remnants of the day’s makeup with slow, clinical strokes, her eyes fixed on the glass.

There, stark against the porcelain hollow beneath her ear, was the crimson bruise Damian had branded into her skin that morning... unmistakable, possessive, and raw.

?Beside her perfume bottles rested the crystal jar of heavy concealer Victoria had given her. A reminder of the armor she was expected to wear tomorrow night.

?The heavy oak door clicked open.

?Damian stepped into the room, bringing the chill of the October rain and the lingering tension of the boardroom with him. He shed his tailored suit jacket, tossing it carelessly over the back of an armchair, before unbuttoning his cuffs with deliberate, heavy motions.

He looked exhausted, lethal, and wrapped in his usual impenetrable armor.

?In the mirror, his dark eyes found hers. He moved toward the vanity, his gaze dropping to the exposed line of her neck, admiring the mark he had carved into her flesh.

?"The detail is doubled on the lower floors," Damian said, his low baritone rumbling into the quiet room. "The dress arrived from Victoria’s atelier. Tomorrow, we leave at seven."

?Ana didn’t move. She tossed the cotton pad onto the marble tray and turned slightly in the swivel chair, crossing her legs, her hazel eyes meeting his with a chilling, exhausted clarity.

?"She looked entirely convinced, Damian," Ana spoke, her voice quiet, cutting through the silence like a scalpel.

?Damian’s fingers paused on the knot of his silk tie. His jaw tightened. "Who?"

?"Vivian," Ana said, holding his gaze without a flicker of hesitation. "She didn’t just weep for the cameras or spin a legal defense. She stood in front of millions of people and claimed she had loved you for as long as she could remember. She sounded like a woman who believed every single word that left her mouth."

?Damian let out a low, humorless scoff, pulling the tie free and tossing it aside. "Vivian is playing to the gallery. I told you this morning, it is a script meant to rattle the stock and bait a public response. You are paying attention to theater."

?"Am I?" Ana stood up from the vanity, her silk robe brushing the hardwood floor as she closed the distance between them. "Because for months before this nightmare started, that ’theater’ was walking into this penthouse without knocking. She was sitting in your high-level strategy meetings. Her father runs an entire industrial empire, yet she insisted on working under you at Sterling Global... and you let her."

?Damian’s eyes darkened, a flash of warning rippling beneath his composure. "Her father held twenty percent of the logistics voting block. It was business, Anastasia."

?"You slept with her in university, Damian!" Ana’s voice cracked with raw, overdue fury, her fists clenching at her sides. "You had a physical history with her, you knew how she looked at you, and you still kept her in your direct orbit after you put a ring on my finger! Did you keep her around because her obsession stroked your ego, or were you blind enough to think a woman who slept with you would ever accept being just a colleague while another woman wore your ring?"

?The silence that followed was suffocating.

?Damian didn’t step back. He didn’t offer a gentle apology, and he certainly didn’t hang his head in remorse. Instead, he closed the remaining space between them, his towering silhouette blotting out the ambient light from the terrace, his obsidian eyes burning down into hers with dark, furious conviction.

?"My ego does not require validation from Vivian Stark," Damian rumbled, his voice dropping into a dangerous, gravelly register that shook the air between them. "And I don’t give a damn about what Vivian accepted or believed. She was useful. The Stark alliance was securing our shipping lanes, and keeping her on a leash inside Sterling Global kept Harrison’s vote in my pocket. That was all she ever was: a tool on the board."

?"And you thought that justified bringing her into my home?" Ana challenged, her chin tilted up, refusing to shrink beneath his wrath. "You thought using her excused blinding yourself to what she was becoming?"

?"I didn’t blind myself to anything," Damian snapped, his large hand shooting forward to grip her jaw, his long fingers cupping her chin and forcing her gaze locked dead-center with his. His touch was burning, demanding, and utterly unapologetic. "Vivian was never a threat to your position. She was never a competitor. She was nothing to me, and you knew that."

?His grip tightened just enough to anchor her, his thumb grazing the edge of her lower lip as his eyes blazed with possessive fury.

?"If you want to talk about mistakes, Anastasia, look at yourself," Damian breathed harshly, leaning down until his lips were inches from hers, his voice trembling with dark, unyielding blame. "I had the Stark family contained. I had Harrison under my heel. I would have chased Vivian out of this city and stripped her family down to the bone months ago... if you hadn’t been fighting me every single day. If you had just stayed by my side, accepted your place, and stopped demanding a damn divorce, none of this chaos would have had room to breathe."

?Ana gasped softly, her hazel eyes widening at the sheer, unrepentant arrogance bleeding from him. "You’re blaming me? You’re blaming me for her insanity?"

?"I am stating a fact," Damian said darkly, his eyes boring straight into her soul, refusing to yield a single inch. "Vivian struck because she smelled blood between us. She saw you pulling away from me, and she thought there was a vacancy to fill. Tomorrow night, we step into that museum, and you will stand at my side as my wife, untouched and untouchable. Vivian will look at you, and she will realize there was never a seat for her at my table."

?He leaned in, his lips brushing against her bruised neck right over the mark he had made, his voice a low, terrifying vow against her skin.

?"And neither she, nor anyone backing her, will ever take you from me."

Ana’s chest heaved, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps against the oppressive heat of his mouth.

?His twisted logic burned like acid in her veins. Blaming her for Vivian’s madness, blaming her pride, blaming the very divorce papers she had fought so desperately to place between them... it was arrogant, monstrous, and entirely Damian Sterling.

?Yet, as his large, calloused hand stayed locked around her jaw and his lips grazed the bruised skin beneath her ear, a treacherous shudder ripped through her core. The fury didn’t extinguish the fire; it stoked it into a raging, uncontrollable wildfire.

?"You are arrogant beyond reason, Damian," Ana whispered, her voice trembling not with fear, but with a fierce, untamed provocation.

?She didn’t wrench away. Instead, she leaned into the hard, unrelenting line of his body, planting both hands flat against the crisp white cotton of his unbuttoned shirt. Her fingers curled into the fabric, gripping tightly, pulling him half an inch closer until the heat of his torso scorched through the thin silk of her robe.

?"You think you own everything," Ana murmured, tilting her head back, her hazel eyes blazing up into his obsidian darkness with reckless defiance. "You think you can turn every war, every lie, every piece of blood into proof that I belong under your heel."

?Damian’s jaw hardened, his obsidian eyes dilating until almost no light reflected in them. A low, predatory growl rumbled deep in his throat at the sight of her defiance... at the way she dared to look at him like an equal adversary while pressing her soft curves against his iron frame.

?"You do belong to me, Anastasia," Damian rasped, his voice dropping into a dark, gravelly register. "Deny it while you bleed. Deny it while you hate me. It changes nothing."

?"Then take it," Ana challenged, breathless, her chin jutting out in pure, unfiltered rebellion. "Stop making speeches about tomorrow night and take what you think is yours."

?The last shred of Damian’s rigid control snapped.

?His arm hooked around her waist with bruising force, lifting her clean off the hardwood floor and swinging her onto the edge of the marble-topped vanity. Crystal perfume bottles rattled and slid across the tray, but neither spared them a glance.

?Damian stepped between her parted knees, trapping her completely within his shadow. His hands tangled into the thick waves of her hair, pulling her head back to expose the pale, elegant sweep of her throat.

?His mouth came down on hers like a starving beast breaking its chains.

?It wasn’t gentle; it was a brutal, consuming collision of teeth, heat, and raw hunger. Damian kissed her with a dark, suffocating violence, drinking in every ragged gasp that tore from her throat. He claimed her mouth like a conqueror reclaiming conquered territory, asserting a dominance so absolute it left her dizzy.