Page 148 of The Pact

Damian isn’t like him. However, that flaw’s rooted deep inside of me and I’ve yet to fully extract it.

He scoots closer on the couch so that our legs are touching. “Princess, I have your full schedule. I know exactly when you’re seeing clients and I turn off the cameras in here during your sessions. I would never violate their privacy.” The words flood me with relief, but I’m still feeling feisty.

“You’ll just violate mine,” I say bitterly.

Damian lets out a sigh, running his hand over the scruff on his jaw. “Thea, you’re the only one I care about enough to protect like this. If that means breaching your trust to keep you safe, I will. Whether or not you like it. And if you hate me for this, so be it, as long as I can ensure that you’re breathing another day.” His hand comes up to my cheek, brushing over it gently.

The words strike me unexpectedly. This should be a red flag. I shouldn’t want to be spied on even if it was in the name of protection. So why do his intentions make my heart swell a little. I break his gaze, not wanting to continue this argument.

“Show me around. I’ve never really asked you about your work.”

I start at the couch we’re sitting on, explaining that I’ll pose my clients on it, which pulls an unexpected blush from him and he stands as if that’s somehow improper. Considering he just watched Wes and I fuck the other day, it makes me giggle.

“Over here, I’ll have them pose in front of the mirror. I’m able to get both the front and back angle in one shot. It’s one of my favorite props to use. I keep all of my fabrics here.” I run my hand over the cubbies of various textures and colors. “I’ll have them hold it in front of them if they are self-conscious about a certain area of their body. It makes them feel sexy, but also comfortable. That’s kind of the goal with every session—to find the comfort level of my client and figure out how to make them still feel desirable.”

Damian takes in my words and gives me a small smile. “I didn’t realize you did all of that. I guess…” He rubs the back of his neck. “I thought it was just taking photos and editing.”

“Yeah, I think that’s what most people assume, but there’s so much more. Aside from the craft and skill itself, there’s a lot that goes into it. Anyone can learn to play with shadows and light, to work a camera, or edit. I think it takes a special type of person to make someone feel beautiful when they are at their most vulnerable. Almost no one gets in front of a camera, practically nude, and feels at ease. My job is just as much camera work as it is…therapy.” I’ve never thought of it in that way until the words leave my mouth, although I guess it’s true.

“Most of the women coming in here have flaws they pick apart daily. They know they want to do this shoot for their confidence or for their husband. Yet when it comes down to it, I see the shift from smiling and easygoing to timid and unsure of themselves. I help them through it. I tell them they’re gorgeous and everything they focus on disliking is truly what makes them special. Maybe I’m giving myself too much credit, but I’d like to think I’ve helped at least a couple of women gain a new level of confidence after a session.”

“That’s a beautiful way of looking at the work you do. I wish I felt that way.” Damian almost never talks about his job. It’s my chance to ask.

“I know you work in tech, but doing what?” I study his face. He doesn’t give me much to work with.

“Nothing exciting, just programming and developing software. Freelance work mostly for companies who have…specific needs.”

He’s playing coy. Damian doesn’t strike me as the type to do something mundane. His job may not bring him the same joy and fulfillment that mine does. Although whatever it is, it isn’t boring. “What kinds of needs?” I prod.

A smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Interested in computers suddenly, princess?”

I don’t answer, knowing that he’s trying to push the conversation elsewhere.

“My clients have different needs. Most have me sign NDAs. So sadly, I can’t discuss the details.” Damian puts his hands up as if he’s not in control.

I’m chewing the corner of my mouth when another thought pops up. I remember Sutton telling me he sold his first program and made tons of money from it. “What was the program you sold that got you to where you are today?”

“Is this a Dateline interview?” He asks, laughing to himself. I’m quiet, waiting for his answer. “Thea, it’s nothing important, but if you really want to know, I’ll tell you.” I think he expects me to back down. I’m nosy and his elusive behavior is piquing my interest. “Fine. First, you have to promise me that what I tell you won’t change your opinion of me.”

My eyes narrow. “Damian, there’s not much that you can do at this point that would make that happen.” I allude to the thing neither of us will say—the whereabouts of Rob and Matt.

“The first program I developed started out as a personal vendetta of sorts. I never meant for it to become anything else.” Whatever he’s about to tell me feels forbidden and goosebumps spread over my skin. “I had this professor in college who was an absolute dick. Purposely targeted me, made my time in his class hell, and even reported me to the dean for things I didn’t do. I don’t know if I rubbed him the wrong way or what, but he had it out for me. By the time the third quarter rolled around, I had it with him. I needed to put this guy in his place.”

I see something flash across his face, maybe regret like he may have taken his revenge too far. Then it’s gone.

“I’d been working on a program in my free time, one that could exploit a website’s weak security measures to extract user data. It was a fun little passion project to challenge myself.” He shrugs as he says it, like that’s a completely normal pastime. “When I got back from winter break, the first assignment I turned in came back with a failing grade. After class, I stayed behind to talk to my professor, but he blew me off, too preoccupied with his phone. That’s when I saw a sugar daddy dating site notification pop up and got my idea for revenge. See, this professor was married. He was cheating on his wife. That night, I went back to my dorm and got to work. It took some time to work out the kinks, no pun intended, but I finally got the program working. I wasn’t sure if the dating site would have any vulnerabilities. Still, it was worth a try. I put the program to the test. It worked. I couldn’t believe it. Soon, I had the names and logins for thousands of users on this dating site, including my professor’s. Eventually, someone in tech caught wind of the program and purchased it. They’re probably making millions a day off of it.”

My jaw’s slack and I can’t believe what Damian’s confessed. “I-um…I don’t know what to say.”

“You said your opinion wouldn’t change.” He looks at me, waiting to see if I’m completely horrified by him.

“What happened to your professor? What did you do with the information?”

He smiles. “Well, I had two options. I could take the printouts of the conversations I found to blackmail him into giving me a good grade. Or I could mail them to his wife.” I’m waiting for his answer anxiously. “I mailed them. I figured she deserved to know who she was married to. It ended up distracting him for the rest of the year. He couldn’t care less about me after that.”

Something about him giving the professor’s wife justice redeemed any negativity I might have felt about his need for revenge. “And now? Are you still creating programs like that, ones that steal from websites?”

Damian doesn’t answer right away. That tells me all I need to know. “I do, but everything I do is for a purpose. A greater good. I’m not stealing from everyday innocent people. The work I do…” He looks away and I wonder if he’s deciding whether he can trust me with this information. “My clients are interested in righting wrongs. They want to go after companies who destroy the environment, exploit children for labor, harm animals…that kind of thing. We’re trying to make the world a better place.”

---