𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 | 𝟏𝟖+

45

"Going somewhere?" I ask, trying to keep my tone calm even as my stomach starts to knot up.

Damien barely glances at me as he checks his reflection in the mirror, straightening his collar. "Yeah, heading out with the guys tonight. Gonna hit up a club, have a few drinks, unwind a bit."

I can feel my eyebrows shooting up to my hairline. "The club?"

Damien sighs, finally turning to face me. "Yes, Catherine. The club. Is that alright with you, or do I need to submit a formal request in writing?"

I scoff at his sarcastic tone, crossing my arms over my chest. "And I'm supposed to just sit here twiddling my thumbs while you're out doing God knows what?"

Damien's jaw clenches, his eyes flashing with irritation. "I'm not 'doing' anything, Catherine. I just want to go out with the guys, have a little fun, take my mind off all the shit with Rome and prison for a minute. Is that too much to ask?"

I'm not buying it. Ever since I saw Damien at the club with those whores draped all over him, the jealous rage inside me has been cranked up to eleven. I still can't stop thinking about the way their hands were all over him, their tits pressed up against his arm. The way they giggled and flipped their hair, batting their fake-ass eyelashes.

It makes me sick to my stomach, imagining what might have happened if I hadn't shown up when I did. Would he have taken one of them home? Fucked her in our bed, the same place where we made love, where we created our child?

I swear to god, if I ever catch Damien in a situation like that again... I don't think I'd be able to hold myself back. I'd unleash hell on every single one of those bitches, and make them regret ever laying eyes on my man.

"I'm sure the half-naked girls grinding on you will be a great distraction, right?" I snap.

Damien throws his hands up in exasperation. "Jesus Christ, Catherine! I haven't gone out in two fucking months because you pitched a fit every time I tried to. I've been glued to your side, catering to your every request, and it's still not enough for you!"

He steps closer, his eyes boring into mine. "Do you not trust me, Cat?"

"I do, Damien," I whisper, hating how uncertain I sound. "I just...."

Damien scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. "Did you forget the fact that you hid a whole ass kid from me, Catherine? Lied to my face for months about having a daughter?"

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

"Well, I don't need your fucking permission to go out. I'm a grown ass man, and I'll do what I want, when I want. And let's get one thing straight," he continues, "I gave you this life, Catherine. When I met you, you had nothing."

He steps even closer, looming over me. "I took you in, gave you a home, a purpose. Everything you have, everything you are now... that's because of me."

I can feel the tears welling up, my throat closing around the painful lump of emotion. But Damien's on a roll now, his anger gaining momentum.

"So if you don't like the way I choose to spend my time, if you've got a problem with me enjoying a night out with the guys...Well, there's the door. No one's forcing you to stay."

And with that parting shot, Damien turns on his heel, grabs his keys off the dresser, and storms out, slamming the door behind him, hard.

I just sit here, shocked, as the tears finally spill over. They roll down my cheeks in heavy streams as Damien's words echo in my head, each one cutting deeper than the last. I sink down onto the bed, hugging my knees to my chest.