𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 | 𝟏𝟖+

5

As the car rolls to a stop at our destination, Damien turns to me with an authoritative look. "One more thing, from now on, you go by Cat," he states firmly.

"Cat?" I repeat hesitantly.

Damien nods decisively. "You don't want everyone knowing your full name, plus it's a sexy little pet name." He flashes me a wicked grin as his hand skims suggestively up my thigh.

I have to suppress the urge to squirm under his roaming hands. Clearly Damien enjoys exerting his dominance and putting his own personal spin on things - including my own name.

So, I force myself to smile back at him. "Cat, got it. Whatever you say..." I purr, testing out the new name.

As the driver opens my door, I take a steadying breath to mentally prepare myself. I slip out of the car with my head held high, back straight and playing the role of the perfect accessory. Damien falls into step beside me, his palm finding its way to the small of my back once more as he leads me inside.

We step through the grand double doors into a classy restaurant, my eyes widening at the beautiful interior. I spot the table of the well-dressed men Damien mentioned and he guides me his fingertips grazing the bare skin on my back. As we approach, several sets of eyes drift over, looking me up and down.

I resist the urge to fidget self-consciously.

"Gentlemen," Damien greets them in a casual yet commanding tone. "This is Cat, my new...companion." His hand moves to wrap his arm possessively around my hip as he introduces me, letting his touch emphasize those last two words. I smile politely, giving a small wave.

"It's nice to meet you all," I murmur, keeping my tone sweet yet reserved.

Damien pulls out my chair for me and I sink down into the plush cushion, I can't help but survey the men at the table. They're an assortment of ages - some dashing and well-groomed in their late twenties, or thirties, hair slicked back and suits pristine. But there are a couple older, weathered looking guys as well.

Damien passes me a menu and I glance over it filled with elegantly named dishes I've never even heard of before. Shakshuka, Eggs Benedict, Steak Tartare...it all looks too fancy for my tastes, but my stomach is rumbling from hunger pangs. The scents wafting from the kitchen aren't helping either.

The men around the table immediately dive into what sounds like casual business talk with Damien, though I pick up on hushed code words and inferences. They're clearly speaking in some sort of secret lingo about shady dealings that go right over my head.

Midway through some serious discussion about "moving the product" and "increasing the supply lines", Damien's phone rings shrilly from his pocket.

He shoots me an apologetic look before stepping away to answer, the conversation hushed. 

As his muffled voice fades towards the front of the restaurant, one of the older, gruffer looking men leans across the table with a sly look.

"So, Cat, is it? "His eyes dart to the necklace adorning my chest with a smirk. "Must be someone real special to be wearing Damien's marker."

I tense up, my hand automatically rising to protectively cover the glittering diamonds as if to protect them.

"His...marker?" I repeat.

The man lets out a harsh chuckle. "Yeah, D ain't that kinda guy. I've never seen the broads he brings around here wearing his name on their neck. You gotta be real special."

My cheeks flush hotly and I open and close my mouth, struggling to find words. Does Damien see me as more than just another pretty girl in his rotation? Am I somehow...special to him? My initial instinct is to brush it off, but a strange, flutter stirs in my chest. The idea that Damien might actually see me as more, awakens a weird sense of pride in me.