To Control The

Chapter 3 (Damien's POV)

       I wake the following morning to see a text from the lovely Layla. I grin and then frown, "Instead of lunch tomorrow, how about you join me at my best friends' art gallery?". Oh how I loathe art galleries. My mother used to love paintings. My father on the other hand would always take us to art museums just to see the reaction on my mother's face as I would try to enjoy it along with her, but never did. I begin to faintly hear the whispers of my father's voice, "Son, enjoy this. Enjoy it for your mother." I shake the memory away and look at the text once again, "I would love to. :)" Maybe I can start loving art galleries, for her. As my father once did for my mother.
     I smile at the thought of Layla as I go to the gym and exercise and lock my demons away for the night to come. I stretch my muscles as I lift the weights over my head and grunt in release. I continue for a couple more hours and head back to my loft and shower up for the art gallery with Layla. "Should I pick you up or are you riding with your friend?". "My friend is taking me to the gallery, I'll meet you there handsome." I smile as she texted handsome to me.
      I look through my closet for my clothes and pick a white buttoned up long sleeved shirt and black slacks. I throw my shoes that I will be wearing for tonight onto my bed, get dressed, shine my shoes until they're slick and shiny. I grab my keys and make my way down the elevator to the car garage and into my blacked out Aston Martin DB11 and zoom through the night to the address that Layla sent me and blast music as I drive to what seems like forever to get to the art gallery. I make it to "The Renaissance Society" and walk in, it's as if a rush of air has sucker punched me in the lungs.
     I look up and down at Layla as she is wearing a black lace dress that shows me her excellent curves. I smirk as I make my way to her and put my hand softly on her lower back. "Hello Layla, you look gorgeous tonight." She turns and smiles up at me, "You don't look bad yourself." I flush softly at her words and speak, "Oh, do I really? These slacks don't make my butt look big do they?" I turn to let her look and see, but hear her laughter as she smacks my arm playfully, "Hey! That was my line mister and yes you look great." I smile at her soft laughter as a waiter comes up to us, "A glass of champagne ma'am, sir?" I nod and notice he is eyeing her up and down and eyed him back in pure jealousy. He notices as he hands us our glasses and scurries away to the back.
      She sips a glass of champagne and moans softly at the delightful taste it brings to her taste buds. My eyes widen at her moan and I groan as it sends a heat throughout my body to my groin. "Ugh, not tonight. Please, I'm trying to enjoy this, not ruin it." I clear my throat and look away as she watches me attentively, "Are you okay? Is it something I did?" "No, of course you didn't" I look into her eyes and she stares back into mine, "Is this the mystery man you have been talking about all day yesterday?" I think to myself, "So, I'm not the only one whose thinking eh." Hope springs into my chest.
      I turn and see a slender, semi-cute woman with brown hair wearing a blue silk dress with an overload of makeup. "She should take makeup lessons from you, Layla.". I think to myself. I smile at her as she shakes my hand, "So it is true, that you have been thinking of me?" I smirk at Layla as she blushes heavily which answers my question vividly. Her friend says, "I'm Rachel, you must be Damien." I flush at the mere thought that Layla has spoken of me. "What is it that you do Damien?" "I'm a computer engineer and I also write poetry." She smiles, "Ah, a poet." I see the look of disapproval written all over Rachel's face. " Well, Have a look around my gallery and enjoy tonight. Oh, and don't mess with her or else mister." She smiles devilishly as she walks away.
     "A good friend she is." I say as Layla laughs. "Oh, thank you Yoda for noticing that." I laugh at her sly comment. "Note to self: she likes Star-Wars just like me." The night goes on with me and Layla looking at painting of sadness, happiness, loss, and love. "Your friend is a good artist." "Yeah, she is." I see the sadness cross her face. "What's wrong? Did I say something?" "No, Yes.. I'm sorry. I should go." I begin to see her slip away through the crowd and watch after her as I stand in confusion.
I follow and look around and see that she has made her way to the stairs to go up to the second floor. I pass through the crowd and head up the staircase to see her standing near the balcony as I glide near the doorway and hear her soft sobs. I whisper, "Layla, what's wrong? Please, talk to me." "Why should I? I hardly owe you an explanation or even know you?!" I look at her silhouette and say in disdain, "I'm just trying to help, but yeah, you're right. You don't owe me a thing. I'll just go. Tell your friend I said congrats." I turn and walk away from her as I hear her calling out my name apologizing repeatedly, but I zone her out. I walk outside to my car, turning the ignition to life and punch my steering wheel in anger. "This was a mistake to even come here. To chase a woman that can't even communicate effectively." I drive away from the art gallery slowly as Layla rushes out to plea to me. She runs along the sidewalk in her bare feet and I shake my head and continue to drive off.
     A man rushes out of an alleyway and tries to snatch her purse from her hands and when she doesn't release it, he slaps her hard making her fall on her ass as she yells out, "Hey Asshat! Give that back!" I stop my car and watch him run with her purse. "Not on my watch". I rev my car and speed around to Layla, "Get in." I say to her. She groans, "Why should I? You hate me."
      I get out of the car and rush to her swiftly picking her up in my arms and put her into the passenger side. I run to my side of the car and speed off to find the guy. I pass by building and soon spot him rummaging through her purse and I turn and notice Layla is passed out from her attack. I park the car and am now fueled by anger, not by Layla, but with myself. For letting her get hurt, for me pushing her away when she snapped at me for no reason.
      I clench my hands into fists, "Hey! I believe you stole something from a beautiful young lady." I hear his sinister laugh as he turns and looks at me. "Oh yeah? what's it to ya. Buddy." I groan in annoyance and think, "I really don't want to have to do this to him, but it'll hurt him more than me." I continue to walk towards him as his breath smells of shit. I wince at the smell, but make my way to the purse and he snatches it away quickly. "A quick old fart huh." He laughs, "All for your weak ass little girl eh?" I look to the corner of my eye and see Layla. "Dammit! She is supposed to be passed out!" He laughs and licks his lips in lust for her which drives me in a wave of anger. He swings the purse at me fast, but I catch it swiftly and glare into his eyes.
        His lips begin to quiver as if he can see my demons standing above me mirroring his fear. He whispers, "What the hell are you man?" I smirk as my eyes illuminate a fire like color and I twist the purse and yanked him towards me and head butt him hard and grab him by his hoodie and punch him hard making him wish he didn't hurt her with his words or actions. As I continue to punch him, his blood begins to smear onto my fists and my hands begin to ache in sweet ecstasy. Layla yells out for me to stop and I immediately stop at the slightest hint of fear in her eyes.
      I drop the man who is now bleeding to a pulp and I look at my hands as they are covered in blood. I back away and walk towards Layla and hand her her purse. I continue to walk and get inside my car and think, "She must think I'm a monster now." I hear the dinging of my car as Layla gets in. I hear the faint whisper from her lips, "Thank you. Now, can you take me home or at least get ourselves cleaned up?" I look up at her in shock, but feel a weight lifted off of my shoulders. I drive off into the night with her by my side and think, "Maybe, there's hope for us."