24. Mila

The nagging voice I expect to scrutinize my choices is silent tonight. Even as seven o'clock rolls around and I avoid going to the club. Instead, I find myself dolled up, a tight lavender dress hugging my curves, with long lace sleeves. I touch up the gentle waves of my hair, and run an extra coat of deep maroon lipstick along my lips.

He's here before I have time to question myself. The resounding knock bounces off the walls, a serenade to my anxiety. I pull my lips back in a reassuring smile, cast one more glance over my appearance before slipping my hand through the strap on my wallet, and shuffling in heels to the door.

I pull open the door and his eyes widen as they take me in. The astonishment, and lust that flows through him is potent, singeing the air with its dark fragrance. He marks the atmosphere with his desire, as he moves forward, wrapping an arm around my waist, he presses his lips toward my ear and breathes in deeply. "You look gorgeous, Mila."

I chuckle nervously and step back, widening my arms and shrugging with a cheeky grin. "Oh this ole' thing? It was gathering dust in the back of my closet." My grin morphs into a warm smile. "Thanks. You don't look so bad yourself." I gesture to his dark formal pants and the deep blue button up that outlined his muscles.

"I figured we could pre-game at O'Malley's, and walk to Keefers." Keefers is an intimate restaurant with delicious cuisine. I've only ever been there once, but my stomach growls in response. It's walking distance from my apartment. So is the bar, O'Malley's.

I glance at the clock, realizing Damien will realize I haven't shown soon. I shake my head gently, casting Connor a reassuring smile. "Sounds great. Let me just grab my phone." 

He shoves his hands in his pocket, and nods, staying put in the doorway. I shuffle back inside, swiping my phone from the counter, glancing quickly at the screen. He hasn't texted me. I gasp, eyes pointed toward the target bag. "Shit."

I shake my head, dispelling the guilt that riddles me, and clutch my phone to my chest as I head back towards the front door. He gestures for me to go first, which I calmly accept, moving past him with false confidence.

The thought of Damien tauntingly resurfaces and I shake my head. He's probably enjoying his time with Tatiana... his ex-sub who knows every way in which he likes to be pleased.

And that bitch had the audacity to confront me publicly. Muttering bullshit about him not wanting her and choosing me over her. Clearly that was a crock of shit. Hell, he probably hadn't noticed my absence, anyways. He probably wasn't at the club.

"What's on your mind, Mila?" Connor thoughtfully questions as we make our way down the street. I feel overly dressed, my anxiety is affirmed by the curious gazes of people passing by.

I chuckle, hoping to appear light-hearted and airy, but the strain in voice is apparent. "I'm fine, just... it's complicated."

Connor nods, and crosses his arms over his chest. "Ah, the old, 'it's complicated' I've been there."

I swat his arm playfully, and roll my eyes. "Don't get me wrong, you're sweet, and obviously there's some history - but..."

"It's complicated." He shrugs. "Look, you already laid shit out. I know you're with someone, don't feel any pressure for tonight, Mi. Just let loose. You seem a little distracted."

That's the thing about Connor, he's always been able to read people. It's hard to bullshit around with someone like that. A thankful distraction interrupts the conversation when we come to O'Maley's. The bars open, but because it's relatively early there's only a few people inside.

Classic rocks emits from the speakers overhead, a baseball game I have no interest in is on the flat screen behind the bar. The bartender is a surly, long hair man. He rests his hands on the counter, eyeing both of us, taking in our attire before ignoring the urge to ask 'what the fuck we are doing here' I'm sure.

"What can I get ya?"

"I'll take a shot of something strong," I reply, eyeing Connor sideways as a grin spreads on his face.

"Okay," Connor laughs. "Make that two." He taps the counter excitedly. I twist, returning his grin.

"Are you sure you'll be able to handle it there, bud?"

Connor licks his lips, leveling a challenging, flirtatious gaze my way before cocking a grin. "I don't know what you remember about me, Mi, but I think I was never one to back down from a challenge. Huh?" He leans into the hands he's placed on the bar. I firm my lips, avoiding his gaze as I feel my face get hot.

There is no denying what we had once was passionate. Even if the passion came merely from the sex. Dating? We'd never ventured that feat, and I had enjoyed not having to stress and think when all I wanted was to fuck and relieve the stress. Attachment created problems sometimes. Just look at Cole. I suppress a groan, smiling gently when the bar tender places the shot glasses in front of us and pours murky liquid from a bottle.

"Whoa, okay, just start a tab for us." Connors eyes widen as he watches his shot glass fill. My mouth falls agape, and I place a hand on my hip.

"What happened to a quick drink and then dinner? You don't want to have to carry me home before we've eaten, do ya?" Seriously. I'm a light weight. Shit goes down, and after two, I'm fuzzy headed.

He tosses his head back, a deep throaty chuckle leaving his lips, before he narrows his eyes playfully at me.

"Now there's the blunt Mila I know. Keep tempting me and you may just get carried out of here over my shoulder."

I laugh, and shake my head while placing my hand on his arm. His eyes skate beside my head, passing over whomever has entered the bar with disinterest. That expression lasts a second before his brow is quirked with concern.

Then two words are spoken, and I feel irony grind my words into ash.

"Hey baby."

The heat radiating from Damien isn't from arousal this time. No. It's something incredibly more sinister. More potent. Like a dog claiming a favorite chew toy.

I whip my head sideways to catch his face, watching as he masks his fury expertly. With wide eyes, my arm drops down to my side as he stares impassively at me.

"Damien," I breathe, because it's the only coherent fucking word that I can form on my tongue. I tilt my head, feeling diluted despite having untouched shots before me as I grapple whether I've just heard a growl escape his lips.

He loops his arm around my lower back and leans forward, capturing my lips with his. Despite my anger, my blatant refusal to go to the club, and everything, I feel my submission come swiftly. I melt into the kiss, letting him nip and suck the sensitive, plump flesh of my mouth before he pulls away and turns his face to Connor.

Connor looks ashen. Hell, he looks just as beefed up and angry as Damien. Like he's been interrupted playing with said chew toy. I bite my lip, chewing anxiously on it, unable to ignore the way Damien's mouth felt amazing on mine.

They don't smile at each other. Not even a head tilt, or hand shake to acknowledge one another's presence. Just a deep stare with unspoken words. Damien's possessive hand on my back is confirmation enough that they're having a piss contest.

I decide to break the ice. Or break myself on the ice. Either way, I leap blindly into the frigidness between them. "Connor, this is Damien. The man I've been talking about. Damien this is Connor, an old coworker of mine." I point back and forth between the two of them.

"Funny, I don't recall any mention of Damien," Connor calls, as if to add gasoline to the fire. Damien stiffens a fraction, enough for me to feel but he holds that impassive gaze for a moment longer before I watch a sly, demeaning grin spread along his mouth.

He eyes Connor like an animal with rabies. One who's going to laugh when he hears his teeth and sinks them into its preys neck.

"I'm the boyfriend." Damien clarifies slowly, as if he's speaking to a child. That angers Connor. I wish I could step back or shrivel up and away from this, but it's too late. I've opened a door I shouldn't have. Clearly invoked a part of Damien I never thought he'd express. Turns out green isn't just his color, watching him in a quiet fury of jealousy makes my pussy drool. "That subject might have not come up in a conversation with someone insignificant." Damien's jaw tenses as his smile fades.

Connor crosses his arms over his chest, and I secretly wish he'd pass out or let shit go and leave, but the universe isn't on my side tonight. He provokes Damien even more.

"She got as far as to, it's complicated, so I left it at that. That's all I need to lend some comfort." Connor sucks his teeth with his tongue, reaches for his shot and tosses it back, before reaching for the other one. "I'd offer this to you, Mi, considering you seem like you'll need it more." His eyes dart between us, he winks and downs the second shot. "Hell, it might make tonight easier for you."

Oh shit...

"Would you like to clarify that, or are we going to continue to speak in riddles." Damien says, goading him by raising out his arms. Connor steps forward, both their eyes locked in anger.

"I think it isn't a secret that she's probably drunk for the duration of your tight ass relationship."

He done fucked up.

Damien swings before I can fucking blink. His fists flys through the air, entourage to bone connecting with bone and an unmistakeable grunt before Connor hits the floor. I step back, watching with wide, horror filled eyes as Connor clutches his jaw down on his knee, before he lurches upward and swings on Damien.

Fists fly. Grunts litter the bar. Connors fist connects near Damien's eye but he shakes it off, fueled by a rage I kindled. Damien throws skillful punches, like in his spare time he partakes in grungy bar fights. He lands his hits once against Connors chest, and the last one connects with the other side of his jaw, before he goes down, blood spluttering onto the floor and Damien's suit.

The bar tender moves around the bar, shoulders squared, chest heaving, malicious eyes trained on all of us. "Get the fuck out!" He growls. Damien's leading me to the door before the bartender makes it to us, pulling me outside and onto the curb.

I yank my wrist from his grasp, glaring at him as he stops to face me. His eye has begun to swell, and I know it'll bruise from the way it's turning different colors already. Damien shoves a frustrated hand through his locks and groans.

"What the hell was that, Damien?"

He grinds his teeth, and whips his arms down at his sides before twisting on his heel and storming down the sidewalk, back in the direction of my apartment. I scurry after him, heels clacking loudly against the concrete.

I curse, stopping as I stumble for the second time while chasing him, and pull the heels off. I grasp them with one hand as I continue jogging after him.

"Damien! Damien!" I screech, watching his back as he stomps ahead. "Stop! Now. Tell me what the hell that was for!"

He doesn't spin on his heel until I'm so close we're basically touching. I jump back startled, as his face is a centimeter away from mine.

"I don't share."

"Oh excuse me for making that fucking mistake," I counter, sarcastically. He narrows his eyes, furrowing his brows with what I almost believe is confusion. What a wonderful fucking liar.

As he opens his mouth, I interrupt him. "No. You don't get to just claim everything you fucking want Damien. I'm not some shiny car, or fancy house, I'm not all the designer clothes or pricey fucking vacations you own. I'm a person. A woman. And I refuse to be treated like another easily attainable, worthless fucking possession of yours. Just like Tatiana."

His eyes widen, and he steps forward, reaching for me until I pull away, and he drops his hand back down.

"Mila, what are you talking about?"

"I ran into her today. She was going on about how you threw her away. Is that what I am to you, Damien? Disposable. Something you'll throw away when I don't follow your every command or I'm unsatisfying to you? She seemed pretty fucking perfect to me and you threw her away."

He presses his hands together, pointing them at me as he steps closer.

"When did you see her, Mila?" The fact he's ignoring everything I'm fucking pouring out to him is infuriating. I place my hand against my forehead and groan.

"That's not the fucking point of anything I've just said Damien! This is what I'm talking about. The minute you're displeased you'll bounce back and forth between us - I know you went to her-"

"Mila, shut up and just answer me!" He bellows, hands encircling my arms. "When did you see her?"

Sighing, I answer in defeat. "Earlier when I went to grab you a phone. I ran into her twice."

"Twice?" He tilts his head with confusion. "What do you mean twice?"

"Once when I was walking, and I guess I dropped my phone because she picked it back up. That's when I fully recognized her," I relinquish softly, all the fight draining out of me.

He releases my arms and shakes his head. "Just stay away from her, okay?" He instructs. He turns, glancing back at the street without elaborating. I huff, and swallow the lump in my throat.

"Why?" If He is going to demand things of me than he can at least give me a proper fucking explanation. "Why do you not want me around her?"

"Just drop it, Mila. Trust me on this."

"Wow, un-fucking-believable. You wanna boss someone around, go find another woman who's probably already waiting in a leather fucking body suit. Or another client you can fuck." I spat, before twisting on my heel and stomping off in the direction of my house.

I ignore him as he calls my name behind me. I will him not to run after me. Not now. When things are raw and the pain in my chest is almost unbearable. So unbearable because of how I truly feel.

The unmistakable blossom of emotion awakens inside of me, and I suck back a sob as I cover my mouth.

It hurts because I love him.