Page 85
Story: The Merciless Don's Bride
“No. Leave her. She’ll spend the night with her friends,” I state, feeling a burning ache in my chest. “Instead, I’d like youto look into Miguel Solis. Cassandra became distraught after a conversation with him. I need to find out what he said to her.”
“I was already looking into him, sir,” Luca says. “He’s clean as a whistle. No shady deals or meetings.”
I arch an eyebrow, “I find that hard to believe. Put someone on his tail. I want to know who he’s meeting, where he goes, hell I want to know what he ate for breakfast, lunch and fucking dinner. Perhaps I was wrong to underestimate him. He might be planning something.”
“I’ll get right on it. Would you like anything else, sir?”
“No, I’m fine,” I mutter.
He leaves the room and I go back to my seemingly endless pacing. The sight of the bed causes a pit to form in my stomach. Because a part of me is scared last night was the last time I’d get to have her in there. She’s changed her mind about me. thought it over and realized I’m not really worth it. That all the darkness isn’t something she wants to be a part of.
I wouldn’t blame her if she did.
After a couple more minutes of pacing, I step out of the room and head to the kitchen, needing some water. I’m surprised to find Renata still there. She usually retires early.
She offers me a warm smile when I walk in.
“Damien,” she says in slightly accented English. “You’re not a regular customer here.”
I chuckle, taking a seat at the island.
“I’ve been busy, Renata.”
“Sure you have. Busy running your father’s business. Busy falling in love,” she says wisely.
I visibly flinch at that last part, shifting in my seat.
“Love is a strong word, Renata,” I murmur.
“Nonsense. You’re too old to be saying such things,” she scolds. “Love is simple. Love is beautiful. As long as you let yourself feel it, you’ll be free.”
“It’s also dangerous,” I point out. “If I let myself feel it, I’ll be more susceptible to pain. It’ll make me weaker.”
She shakes her head and it hits me then, how old and frail she is now. Renata used to be larger than life growing up. An unshakeable force. She still is now. But the years are catching up to her. I hate the sight of it. I don’t want to lose her.
“My dear sweet child, do not let the mistakes of those who came before you keep you from your happiness. I know you haven’t had a lot of good role models on what to expect from life and love, but you can change the narrative, Damien. You can let yourself be better,” she says earnestly.
I ponder her words for a moment. They stir through me, igniting some things I would have liked to keep buried.
“This isn’t a one way situation, Renata. What if she doesn’t want me?”
“Then she doesn’t want you? You can’t force love, Damien,” she states. “You’ve already taken enough from that girl.”
“I want her to be happy.”
“Then let her be happy,” Renata says simply.
But it’s not that fucking simple. I want her to be happy with me. And if it’s possible, I want her to love me.
“Renata,” I call, hesitating before saying my next words. “Do you think I’m a monster?”
The question makes me feel weak, pathetic, but the look in her eyes is kind. She reaches over and places a hand on my arm.
“I’ve met a lot of monsters over the course of my life, Damien. You’re the only one that hasn’t hurt me. You’re not a monster to me.”
The words offer a small measure of comfort. But I’m glad she feels that way, grateful.
“Can I have some tea? I’m having trouble falling asleep,” I tell her with a smile.
“I was already looking into him, sir,” Luca says. “He’s clean as a whistle. No shady deals or meetings.”
I arch an eyebrow, “I find that hard to believe. Put someone on his tail. I want to know who he’s meeting, where he goes, hell I want to know what he ate for breakfast, lunch and fucking dinner. Perhaps I was wrong to underestimate him. He might be planning something.”
“I’ll get right on it. Would you like anything else, sir?”
“No, I’m fine,” I mutter.
He leaves the room and I go back to my seemingly endless pacing. The sight of the bed causes a pit to form in my stomach. Because a part of me is scared last night was the last time I’d get to have her in there. She’s changed her mind about me. thought it over and realized I’m not really worth it. That all the darkness isn’t something she wants to be a part of.
I wouldn’t blame her if she did.
After a couple more minutes of pacing, I step out of the room and head to the kitchen, needing some water. I’m surprised to find Renata still there. She usually retires early.
She offers me a warm smile when I walk in.
“Damien,” she says in slightly accented English. “You’re not a regular customer here.”
I chuckle, taking a seat at the island.
“I’ve been busy, Renata.”
“Sure you have. Busy running your father’s business. Busy falling in love,” she says wisely.
I visibly flinch at that last part, shifting in my seat.
“Love is a strong word, Renata,” I murmur.
“Nonsense. You’re too old to be saying such things,” she scolds. “Love is simple. Love is beautiful. As long as you let yourself feel it, you’ll be free.”
“It’s also dangerous,” I point out. “If I let myself feel it, I’ll be more susceptible to pain. It’ll make me weaker.”
She shakes her head and it hits me then, how old and frail she is now. Renata used to be larger than life growing up. An unshakeable force. She still is now. But the years are catching up to her. I hate the sight of it. I don’t want to lose her.
“My dear sweet child, do not let the mistakes of those who came before you keep you from your happiness. I know you haven’t had a lot of good role models on what to expect from life and love, but you can change the narrative, Damien. You can let yourself be better,” she says earnestly.
I ponder her words for a moment. They stir through me, igniting some things I would have liked to keep buried.
“This isn’t a one way situation, Renata. What if she doesn’t want me?”
“Then she doesn’t want you? You can’t force love, Damien,” she states. “You’ve already taken enough from that girl.”
“I want her to be happy.”
“Then let her be happy,” Renata says simply.
But it’s not that fucking simple. I want her to be happy with me. And if it’s possible, I want her to love me.
“Renata,” I call, hesitating before saying my next words. “Do you think I’m a monster?”
The question makes me feel weak, pathetic, but the look in her eyes is kind. She reaches over and places a hand on my arm.
“I’ve met a lot of monsters over the course of my life, Damien. You’re the only one that hasn’t hurt me. You’re not a monster to me.”
The words offer a small measure of comfort. But I’m glad she feels that way, grateful.
“Can I have some tea? I’m having trouble falling asleep,” I tell her with a smile.
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