Scarred Empire: An Enemies to Lovers Dark Billionaire Romance (Broken Cross Book 2)

by Bri Blackwood

  By the look on his face, I knew he needed this as much as I did, but even though I wanted to keep doing what we were doing, there were still some things that needed to be squared away.

  I touched my lips, still reeling from what had just occurred. My brain floated back to the conversation we were having before he used his lips to turn my brain into a pile of mush. Damien’s argument about why I should stay at his place probably made sense temporarily. I wouldn’t need to be in the office for a while anyway.

  “That is correct. Everything will be fixed so that you will work from home.”

  Did I say those words out loud? Of course, he had already thought of everything that needed to be done, and I tried my best to hide my annoyance. Once again, it felt as if he had removed my ability to choose. “Did you also grab my things from my apartment while you were at it?”

  Damien nodded. “And from your office. If you need anything else, we can arrange for someone to either pick it up or you can stop by with security.”

  “Would it kill you to ask me before you just uproot my life?”

  His expression remained unchanged, and my annoyance grew the more tired I became. How I hadn’t fallen asleep while standing on my feet, I would never know.

  “Just because I’m letting you get away with all this, doesn’t mean that it’s just going to be smooth sailing.”

  That got his attention. He looked over at me, and I could see the smirk forming on his face. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “There’s something else we haven’t talked about that happened back there.”

  “What are you referring to?”

  “That you’re paying my father’s medical bills, including his physical therapy.”

  “And making sure that your father has the best doctors the world has to offer. You can tack it onto our next arrangement. After all, you left before the terms of our last deal were met. Due to that, the stakes in our next contract will be higher.”

  Anger simmered below the surface after he mentioned the last deal we had and the potential for a new contract. “Damien, you cancelled the debt, effectively ending the deal we had. There is no need for a new one.” I kept my voice neutral, trying to not escalate the situation.

  “You walked out on me and I still cleared your father’s debt. Now you’re looking at another massive debt even with his health insurance. That’s not including the security I’m providing. All you have to do is sign a new contract and I will take care of it for you. Same rules apply with one small addition.”

  “My God, you are such a petty asshole!” Well, that flew out the window.

  “I’ve been called worse. Do you want to hear what the new term is?”

  As I stared at him, something clicked in place. “No. All of this is because you’re hurt that I left you.”

  “Of course not. I’m showing you what happens when someone goes back on their word. Yet, I’m still being generous. Now whether you admit it or not, you need me to fix this. Medical and security bills are expensive, and you don't have the wherewithal to cover it. I do. All you have to do is agree to the new deal.”

  I thought about throttling him but couldn’t find something I could use as a weapon in the general vicinity. He must have sensed my anger was reaching a boiling point because he turned to look at me, not displaying any feelings on his face.

  He moved toward me, taking my chin between his thumb and forefinger, staring into my eyes. “When I allowed you to leave, it was not a permanent thing. When I said that you were mine, I meant it. When I’m done with you is when we are done. Not the other way around.”

  His words made my heart shatter into a million pieces. I knew I had been brave when I told the man who refused to take no for an answer that I was leaving, but now I knew why he let me leave with little fight. It was almost as if he knew I would always end up right back where he wanted me.

  4

  Anais

  I slowly opened my eyes and found myself face-to-face with the sunlight streaming in from the window. The warmness from the light served as a warning that it was time to get up. I groaned, putting an arm over my face to block the light and give my eyes enough time to adjust to the new day’s brightness. The lack of sleep the night before made itself known as I forced my brain to think. Images of what occurred yesterday flooded back into my mind. Thoughts about the state that I left my parents in caused me to jolt out of bed. I needed to check in with them.

  I tripped over my own feet as I dashed to the door, adjusting the clothes I threw on as I went. I remembered being so pissed after he had kissed me senseless, and then what he said about creating a new arrangement had sent me over the edge.

  I’d given him the one-finger salute because that was the only thing I could muster as exhaustion had taken over. He'd watched as I opened the first door I walked to and almost sang with glee because it was a bedroom. I hadn't bothered to find something more comfortable to change into. Instead, I'd stripped down to my tank top and panties, leaving my clothes in a pile beside the bed. A quick check this morning had told me they had been moved. I'd looked around and found them neatly folded on a chair in the corner. That had all but confirmed that Damien had been in here at some point.

  That was when I realized I hadn’t taken an opportunity to look around Damien’s penthouse last night. The room I stood in was spotless and had dark furniture that looked as if it could fit in with the décor in Elevate. From what I could see, there were three doors in the room. One led to the living room, and I assumed the other two led to the bathroom and a closet, respectively.

  The television hanging on one wall was huge, and when I looked over at the end table on the other side of the bed, I did a double take. There was a bottle of cologne sitting on it. I walked over and smelled it. A faint woodsy aroma that I associated with Damien reached my nose. Was this Damien’s room?

  I listened to see if I could hear anything that would indicate that someone else was home. Hearing nothing at first, I walked over to a door that I knew wasn’t the one that led into the living area. When I twisted and pushed on the knob, I found an enormous closet, much like the one that I had seen back in Damien’s other home just a few weeks ago. It was filled with different dark-colored suits, white shirts, and ties. There was also an assortment of shoes, including sneakers, which I had never seen Damien wear. This discovery confirmed that the room I had found was Damien’s and that I had slept in his bed last night. Had he slept next to me? Figuring that I would delve more into that later, I went to the next door and before I could open it, I heard what sounded like Damien, but it was muffled. I rushed to the door that led to the living area and listened.

  “Do we know anything more?”

  I put my ear up to the door to see if I could hear what was being said a little clearer.

  “He’s still stable and things are looking good,” Damien replied. I assumed they were talking about my father.

  “How is Anais?” The phone was on speaker.

  “She slept through the night, which I wasn’t expecting, but I’m glad she did.”

  “That’s good. I’m sorry that all of this is happening. It brings back memories of what happened with—”

  I recognized the voice. It was Selena Cross…Damien was talking to his mother about me?

  “Mom, now is not a great time.”

  “I know, I know, but I’m glad that the result of this was better. Is there anything I can do? I’ll have some food delivered if that’s helpful, and if you need me to come, just let me know.”

  That made me smile. Although Damien could probably buy anything he wanted several hundred times over, Selena’s offer was motherly.

  “Okay.”

  I heard them wrap up the call and counted to ten before I stepped out from behind the door. Damien looked up at me as I entered.

  “How much of that did you hear?”

  “The ending. Your mom is really sweet.”

  “That she is.”

  I looked down at
the counter and found my phone charging. “Ah, there it is.” I picked it up and noticed dozens of notifications. Coworkers wanting to check in, social media comments, and more emails than I cared to think about. I cleared most of the items without reading them. The thought of dealing with any of it was stifling during a time like this. I only cared about the ones from my mom and Ellie. I knew I could at least text them without feeling overwhelmed. Ellie was up first since I hadn’t heard from her since everything happened.

  Me: Hey, just wanted to tell you I’m okay and am with Damien. Feeling a bit overwhelmed, but I’ll call you soon.

  Ellie: Yes, please call me when you can!

  I then wrote a text message to my mother.

  Me: Wanted to let you know I was fine and that I should be at the hospital soon.

  Mom: Okay. Your father’s condition hasn’t changed but we can talk about it when you get here. I’ll see you soon.

  Before I put my phone down, it buzzed in my hand, telling me I had an unread email. The message was an alert I set up to send me a notification if Monroe Media Agency was mentioned online. It turned out that the notice was from an obscure website that I had never heard of and the headline was: James Monroe, Founder of Monroe Media Agency, The Intended Target?

  The post included vague details about my father’s shooting, but once I got to the end, I sucked in a quick breath. It included speculation about why my father might have been shot. One of the assumptions was about him owing someone money.

  I placed my phone on the counter and looked up at Damien. “When can we go see my father?” I told myself if I didn’t like his answer, I would take a cab down there by myself, not giving a damn if Damien had any objections to it.

  “Soon. But there are some things we need to discuss first.”

  “Okay,” I replied, waiting on him to elaborate so we could get this show on the road.

  “A lot has happened in the hours since your father was shot.”

  “I know, and I’ll figure out the best way to go about doing everything that needs to be done. I need to check in with work.”

  I assumed my coworkers knew about Dad and that none of us would be doing much of anything for the rest of this week. I made a mental note to send Vicki Thomason, Vice President of Monroe Media Agency, a text because I didn’t have the brain capacity to check my emails at the moment.

  Vicki and I had a good relationship, and I knew that she would have no problem standing in my father’s place. I also didn’t think she was involved in his shooting. I leaned back and closed my eyes. My hands grew warmer rapidly, so I clutched the edge of the counter, which provided a much-needed cooling sensation.

  “That’s not everything.” That made my eyes pop back open. “The media have picked up on this case and it’s running wild. You don’t want them to start picking up on a potential motive. I could step in and control the narrative and dull the flames. But I want something in return.”

  He’s right. If they connected the motive to say, my father’s money troubles, Monroe Media Agency would be ruined. “What?”

  “You. I want you to be mine permanently in exchange for me quieting the noise around the shooting. You’re going to sign a contract and we’re going to get married.”

  My eyes almost bulged out of my skull as his words ran through my mind. It took a moment before I drew my eyes to him, his expression not showing whether he was joking. That lit a fire under the rage I felt for Damien that lay dormant because of everything else that was going on in my life. “You must have lost your mind.”

  “I have not.” The hardness in his voice told me the same. His glare should have made me quiver in fear, but I refused.

  “You are a member of one of the most powerful families that this city has ever seen. You could squash any media attention toward my father with a flick of your hand.”

  “I know I can, but I don’t have to. And I think you care too much about your family business to let this—shall we call it an opportunity?—pass you by.”

  I pushed off the counter and started pacing. “Fuck you. How is this an opportunity? You’re blackmailing me into an engagement.”

  He shrugged. “You can call it what you like. Take it or leave it.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “When am I ever not serious?”

  I agreed with him there. “But you don’t do relationships. What benefit do you get out of this? I don’t even know what you’re protecting me from!” The last statement ended in a screech that at any other time would have embarrassed me. Not today. I knew Damien would sink low to get his way. I didn’t think he would go past hell to do it.

  “The benefit I get from this is that I get to bend you over my desk and spank that ass of yours. Anytime I want. You get to come under the Cross Empire, so stories about the shooting and your father being desperate for money, so desperate that he came to me, will be squashed.”

  “How would that get out?” I asked. “I assumed no one but you, me, and my parents knew about it.”

  “People talk. There were rumblings about it, but nothing concrete. Who knows who might have been tracking him. After all, Monroe Media Agency was working with some big names before the decline. There are plenty of ways the information could have gotten out there. Now, news of this has not been proven true, but if we were engaged to be married, I know I can stop it. Here is the contract.”

  There was that confidence oozing out of him as he handed me several pieces of paper while I tried to prevent the bile from rising in my throat. Although I craved Damien’s touch and couldn’t stop thinking about it in the days after I skipped out on our deal, it didn’t mean we were compatible for marriage. This was all too much. “I need time to think about this. There’s a lot going on at once, and I need time to process it all.”

  “You can have as much time as you want. Just know that the clock is ticking because who knows how long the media will keep a lid on these stories. Who knows who might know that Monroe Media Agency was struggling to survive? Hell, one reason I brought you here is because the photographers and reporters had swarmed your apartment to find out more about what happened to your father. Thankfully, your parents’ home has a doorman and a rear entrance like this one, so it’s been easier for Ilaria to slip in and out when she goes home or leaves to go back to the hospital.”

  He wasn’t wrong about that.

  “That’s another reason why I talked to Ellie before I reached you. It was best that she went somewhere else. They will not leave you alone until they get what they want, or someone brings down the hammer.”

  I knew he was right. Because of the high-profile nature of some of Monroe Media Agency’s clients and the reputation that my father built, I shouldn’t be stunned that this caught the attention of the press. Once the media got word of a story, they weren’t going to let it go until they found out the truth, which made sense, but it didn’t benefit me. I flopped my body onto the couch, the black leather making a swooshing noise under my weight. “Do we have any more information on who might have shot my father?”

  Damien shook his head. “What I know, you know.”

  I highly doubted that was the case. “What is the media reporting? Or do I have to go on social media myself and find out?” My sarcastic question was dripping with venom. None of that mattered to Damien. He didn’t look impressed or amused. His face remained impassive.

  “They’re just saying the usual and when they reached out to the police, they didn’t receive a comment other than that they were investigating the situation. I’m launching my own investigation and I’m using multiple avenues to find out what happened. The only thing I know for sure is that he was the intended target. In the time it took to grab you, the shooter still had an opportunity to shoot you or anyone else in the area too, and yet they didn’t. Now, I want an answer about our impending engagement as soon as possible.” He walked away from the living area and headed toward the kitchen.

  “So, once again, I don’t have a choice in this
matter,” I said, standing up with rage flowing through me because he tossed another “choice” at me that I had to decide on within his timeframe. I knew this was all a game that he liked to play in order to get his way. “I don’t want to get married to you, and I know you don’t want to marry me.”

  Damien stopped in his tracks. The words flew out of my mouth without me giving much thought to them. I’d spoken out of anger, but there was truth to my words.

  His face was still unreadable, but his eyes weren’t. I thought my response might have pissed him off, but instead of his eyes becoming ablaze, they froze over, causing me to shiver for a millisecond as I waited for his response. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. The longer you wait to give me an answer, the worse it is going to get. And like with our other arrangement, you’ve had every opportunity to walk out that door and never see me again, but you know the consequences of that.”

  With that, he stalked toward another room in the apartment and slammed the door shut, putting a barrier between me and him. That was the first time I’d ever seen Damien show pure rage.

  5

  Damien

  A painting fell to the floor as the door slammed. Thankfully, the abstract design that my interior designer had insisted on hanging in here had just been a canvas, as opposed to framed in glass, so there was nothing to clean up. I picked up the picture and put it back on the hook. Then, I gripped the edge of my desk and tried to calm my fury as I watched my knuckles turn white.

  I don’t know what I hoped her answer would be when I told her we would get engaged, but I hadn’t expected her to say that she didn’t want to marry me. The rejection hurt me more than I was willing to admit, but I could see why she might have felt that way, considering she'd blamed me for her father being shot and the way Kingston's men had treated her. The shock on her face that followed her defiant words gave me pause because I wasn't sure what it meant. Did she merely want to piss me off? I knew that when I came up with her nickname, Spitfire, that it fit her perfectly, but I didn’t expect it to backfire on me.