Page 126 of My Ruthless Husband

“No, it’s not what you think!”

Without warning, he swiftly presses a button. The elevator gives a jerk and then grinds to a sudden halt.

“Damian!” I gasp. “What did you do?”

“I stopped it.” He moves closer. “We need to talk. I’m afraid your date will have to wait. As well as that man you were chasing.”

“Damian, it wasn’t what it looked like. I thought that man I was following was—”

“So you do admit you were following him,” he says, his voice dangerously low. “First you follow me for my number, now you’re running after someone else. Quite the habit.” He advances and I take a step back, the sound of my breathing loud. The confined space suddenly feels even smaller, the air thick with tension.

“No, it’s not like that! I can explain.”

He takes another step closer, and I can feel the heat radiating from his body.

“Explain then,” he demands, his gaze never leaving mine. There’s a fire in them that both terrifies and excites me. He places a hand on the wall beside my head, caging me in.

My cheeks burn under his watchful stare. “I t-thought he was y-you. He was wearing the same suit as you. When I saw him with a-another woman, I felt... betrayed. I followed him because I thought you were with her,” I confess, my words spilling out in a rush.

Now that I know that man wasn’t my Damian, I feel a surge of relief flood through me. It’s so intense it borders on physical pain. The thought of Damian betraying me had nearly shattered me. I love him fiercely, with every fiber of my being. The mere idea of losing him, of him being with someone else, had been unbearable. My heart had clenched in agony, my mind racing with thoughts of what could have been. But now, knowing it wasn’t him, I can breathe again. I can feel my love for him burning even brighter, a fierce determination settling in to never let doubt cloud my heart again.

He places his other hand on the wall, boxing me in completely. I’m trapped, and my pulse races at the nearness of him. “You thought I was cheating on you.”

“I saw him from a distance and assumed the worst. I was wrong,” I admit, my cheeks flushing with shame.

His gaze roams over my face, and I feel the intensity of his scrutiny like a physical touch. “You doubted me, angel.” His eyes drop to my lips, and I swallow hard, my heart pounding.

“I know, and I’m sorry. It was a mistake,” I plead. The tension between us is palpable, and I find myself leaning in ever so slightly, craving his touch. Giving into it, I reach up and cup his jaw. When he doesn’t reject my touch, I go on my tiptoe and press my lips against his jaw.

“A mistake. Like going on a date with Edward behind my back?”

I freeze, pulling away. The cold hard look on his face makes my eyes go wide. “Damian…”

He leans forward until his body is flushed against mine. “I thought we were supposed to be together tonight, but then you tell me you have to go see your father. Imagine my surprise when Hal fills me in on your change of plans.”

“It wasn’t a date, Damian. Please, believe me! I was supposed to have dinner with dad, but he arranged for Edward to come in his place,” I explain, desperation bleeding into my voice. His proximity is intoxicating, and I can feel the heat of his breath on my skin. I can hardly think.

“Your father set you up with Edward?” He runs his eyes over my face.

I lick my lips, nodding. Only Damian can get me hot and bothered while questioning me.

“Yes, and I didn’t know until I got here. I was just trying to be polite.” I don’t tell him about the marriage proposal. How can I when Damian is in such a mood?

“Is letting him touch you your idea of politeness?”

“I didn’t invite his touch,” I say, meeting Damian’s intense gaze head-on. “I leaned away every time, trying to signal that I wasn’t comfortable with it but he didn’t seem to notice.”

His jaw ticks. “Sounds like he needs to learn his boundaries,” Damian says, his voice chillingly calm. “Perhaps a broken hand might make him think twice.”

My jaw drops. He clasps my chin, exactly how Edward had earlier and rubs the skin with his thumb as if he is erasing the other man’s touch. “No one touches what’s mine.”

Damian’s possessiveness had never surfaced so visibly before.

He places his bronzed index finger against my neck where my pulse is beating out of control. “Do I scare you, angel?”

Color rushes up my face as he runs his finger slowly up my throat. “Damian…” His name comes out as a moan. My eyes fall shut when he reaches my mouth, caressing my parted, quivering lips.

“Tell me,” he murmurs. “Does my possessiveness intimidate you?”

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