Damien's Deal

Mafia Business

Isabelle

Damien is an ass.

He pulled me from the plane after ignoring me the whole way and shoved me into a black car, waiting on the tarmac. The leather seats stuck to my legs, making me shift uncomfortably. Damien seemed to notice and grabbed my arm pulling me over him and sitting me on his lap.

"Hey! What are you doing?" I tried to push myself off him, but he held his arms around me.

"You've been touchy this week, thought I'd make it easier for you." All humor was gone from his voice. It scared me at the seriousness of his stare. His eyes were not smiling, they were mad. I shut my mouth and put my head down, trying to not glance at his cold dead eyes. The car jerked to a stop and we were escorted into The Hilton by two men in casual clothing.

"You need bodyguards?" I asked as Damien pulled my hand beside him. He barked some orders about where to put our bags in the penthouse suite and then huffed quite loudly.

"Yes, France is only an ally not a friend. You can never be too careful, Isabelle. I have to pull this deal off for my father." His voice laced with double meaning. He opened the big brass door to the room, and I stood in shock. It was huge! It had a grand piano to the right and dozens of chairs and sitting pieces. I had to take a double look, assuming we were actual in the dining hall. He pulled me inside and shut the door. Next thing I knew, I was being pushed against the door Damien's hands and arms on either side of my head.

He had an evil smile on his face, and I realized the King of the Underworld had taken his place.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing sweetheart?" The venom drenched off his words. His eyes were back to the dangerous orbs. They swirled and stared until I felt physically nauseous. I started sweating and gulping large amounts of spit down my throat.

"Damien, I don't know what you're talking about." I whispered to scared to raise my voice. He moved to touch my cheek and I flinched thinking about the man who assaulted me and how I easily thought it was the man in front of me.

What is he capable of?

I dreaded to find out.

"Quit lying to me. I know you got a phone call while I was in the shower that day." He leaned in closer, almost right in my face. Then he leaned in and kissed the side of my head, whispering in my ear.

"And I know you made one back to the same number."

I am an idiot! Of course, he would find out! How am I ever going to go home?

I looked down at my shoes, I had dirt on my converse. My chin was yanked up angrily.

"Tell me Isabelle. What did you do?"

"I called the cops." I said loudly, hoping someone would hear me and save me before he killed me.

The range of emotions that fell across his face were all gone within a matter of minutes, but I saw them.

Anger.

Pain.

Sadness.

Hatred.

Laughter.

I scrunched up my nose looking at him like he was stupid. He was laughing at me, pointing.

"What the hell is your problem?" I asked him, starting to get angry at the display of embarrassment.

"You go head and call the cops." He smiled, wiping a tear from his eyes.