Muse [18+] • REVISING

13 | Crimson Evenings

V E R A

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After what was a thirty-minute drive, we stopped in front of a black gate.

The driver pressed a button on the center console of the car, causing the driveway in front of us to open up. Driving through, we were met with a half-roundabout where Damien then opened the car door and helped me out.

Looking up, in front of me stood an incredibly large château. Unlike the museum, this house took on a contemporary style.

The exterior had been covered in a layer of concrete while the lining of the house was a cream-like color with hints of black as well. Surrounding the entirety of the front was a perfectly manicured lawn with gravel trims on the left side while there were over-hanging trees and shrubs that slightly hid the main entrance on the right. Leading up to the central doors was a concrete walkway.

"You live here?" I asked, in absolute awe.

"No, I just kidnapped you and brought you to a random home." He looked down at me, an amused look on his face.

Oh, so the man has jokes now? Maybe I should get angry, wrap my hands around his neck, and call him degrading names. See how he'd like that.

"Yes, this is mine." He explained, grabbing my hand and leading me up the front steps.

Meeting the glass entrance, he took a little gold key out of his pocket and opened one of the french doors, ushering me in. Seeing that the exterior was grand, I would've been foolish to expect anything less from the inside—this place had nothing on my box-shaped apartment.

"Let me show you around," He said as he locked the doors behind us. Putting his hand on the lower of my back, he slightly pushed me forward. "Come."

As we walked around, I took in every detail as if I was standing in an exhibit. While the house was big, every element had been carefully planned out. From the wall accents made out of walnut-stained wood to the simplistic furniture and decor, everything tied in perfectly to make the large space feel intimate.

Reaching the living room, I noticed a bunch of unopened moving boxes in the corner.

"What's in those?" I curiously asked, expecting anything but a straight-forward answer.

"Paintings," He replied to my surprise. "I haven't had the chance to hang them up since moving in."

"You just moved here?"

"Around half a year ago. I made the decision to build something that was entirely my own," He explained, looking around. "Plus, it's quiet here. The neighbors live at least a couple of miles away."

The one thing I quickly learned about Damien besides his need for control was that he liked when things were quiet; still. Whether it was the times I'd catch him in his office when everyone had already left or tonight, when he had spent the majority of his time, by himself in the garden—this man appreciated his peace.

"Well, you have a beautiful home," I expressed, pausing for a second. "Where do you keep all of the whips and chains, sir?"

Before I could turn around and look at him, I felt his arm snake around my waist and pull me backwards, flush to his body. His other hand wrapped around my neck, his grip tight. Bringing his lips to my ear, he whispered.

"I could bend you over this table and absolutely ruin you," He asserted, instilling both panic and excitement in me. "But I take pleasure in denying you the one thing you so desperately seem to need."