𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 | 𝟏𝟖+

7

The car pulls up to Damien's mansion and I stumble out, alone.

He didn't even bother to come back with me, probably too disgusted to deal with me any more tonight. I'm pretty sure I've really fucked things up.

I can't believe I let my jealousy get the better of me like that, causing such a scene. I'm never going to live this down.

Mr. Clarence, the driver, helps me to the door, practically holding me upright as I sway on unsteady feet. He unlocks it and takes me inside, making sure I'm safely across the threshold before locking up behind me.

I'm suddenly hit with a wave of nausea. I barely make it to the bathroom in time, puking violently into the toilet. When there's nothing left in my stomach, I shakily rinse out my mouth and brush my teeth, trying to get rid of the sour taste of vomit.

I'm too exhausted and still too drunk to even contemplate climbing the stairs to my room, so I just collapse onto the nearest couch, praying for God to forgive me.

The next thing I know, I'm waking up in an unfamiliar room, strong arms wrapped around me from behind. I blink groggily, my head pounding and my mouth as dry as cotton.

It takes me a moment to realize that I'm not on the couch anymore - I'm in Damien's bed, and he's spooning me.

I'm shocked that he even brought me to his room at all, let alone curled up with me like this. After the way I acted last night, I was sure he'd be done with me, ready to kick me to the curb without a second thought.

But here he is, holding me close like I actually mean something to him. Like he wants me here, even after seeing me at my absolute worst.

I feel Damien start to stir behind me, his arms tightening around my waist as he nuzzles into my neck. I tense up, bracing myself for his anger.

"Damien, I'm so sorry about last night," I blurt out, the words tumbling from my lips in a desperate rush. " I didn't mean to cause such a scene. I just...got jealous."

To my surprise, Damien just chuckles, the sound low and rumbly against my back. "Oh, I could tell you were jealous from a mile away, Cat. You're not exactly subtle when you're drunk."

I feel my face flush with embarrassment, knowing he saw right through me. I'm still not sure where I stand with him, or why he brought me to his bed instead of just dumping me in a guest room to sleep it off.

As if reading my mind, Damien's hand slips under my chin, tilting my face up to meet his amused gaze. "Don't overthink it, sweetheart. Maybe I just wanted company after dealing with your drunk ass."

There's a teasing glint in his eye, and I can tell he's not actually annoyed with me. If anything, he seems...pleased by my jealous outburst. Like it stroked his ego to see me so worked up over him.

I let myself melt into his embrace, savoring the warmth of his body against mine.

Damien's arms tighten around me his lips brushing against my skin. "You know, Cat...I want you to be more than just my 'companion'," he murmurs, his voice low and rough with sleep.

I frown in confusion, twisting around to face him. "What do you mean?"

But Damien just looks at me with an intensity that steals my breath away. His hand comes up to cup my cheek, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. "I want you to be my girlfriend, Catherine."

I'm stunned into silence, my mouth falling open in shock. I never in a million years thought I'd hear those words from Damien. And yet here he is, asking me to be his. Offering me the one thing I've been secretly wanting this whole time, even as I tried to convince myself it would never happen.