Page 139 of My Ruthless Husband

I shake my head. “No, I’ll handle it myself. I need to speak with him personally about Melissa and her family.”

“But it’s my responsibility to inform him about any threats to your safety. And honestly, it’s not just about my job—I want to tell him about that crazy woman attacking you. He has the power to press charges and take action against her.”

She pauses for a moment before continuing, “Last night, while you were swimming, Mr. Montgomery arrived with Hal. Before I could grasp what was happening, Hal was ordering the entire staff out, including me. They even booked me along with the few others into a hotel since we live on the premises. When I came back this morning, the staff was still gone. I’m not entirely sure what it was all about.”

My face heats up. “It’s Damian’s thing. He usually prefers…privacywhen he returns from a business trip.” Then I add jerkily, “But that’s going to change. I am not staying home to entertain him. We’re going to the community center. But before that, I’ll talk to him about Melissa.”

Vicky worries her lower lip. “But what if Mr. Montgomery gets angry when he hears about last night and doesn’t allow—”

I cut her off. “That won’t matter because I don’t need his permission.”

She nods silently, but her expression reveals her inner doubts. Like me, she knows all too well that Damian isn’t easily swayed,and while she’s right about his stubbornness, I’m determined not to bow to his will any longer.

???

Damian was in his office, finishing up an important call. Hal mentioned it when I asked about his whereabouts. There was a time when knowing he’d returned to work after just one night together would’ve hurt me—especially since he used to drop everything and lose himself in bed with me for an entire week after a long business trip. But now, that old wound doesn’t hurt anymore. Today, it actually plays right into my hands as I want to go out.

After a quick breakfast, I march straight to Damian’s home office. Despite swearing I wouldn’t let him control my life any longer, I still have to inform him before I leave. Because even though I plan to conquer the devil, I know better than to provoke him when I’m not fully prepared.

Pushing the door open, I’m met with a sight that makes my breath hitch. A fitted long sleeve black t-shirt clings to his chest and dark sweats hang low on his hips. Even in sweats, he exudes that air of dominance as he stands by his desk, slightly bent over as he reads something on his laptop while simultaneously talking on the phone.

His damp hair is slightly tousled, falling loosely over his forehead. But his beard—the one that was so rough against my skin—is gone. His face is now clean-shaven. I feel a twinge of disappointment that his rugged look is gone, but it’s replaced instantly with a fierce craving to feel the smoothness of his jaw beneath my fingertips.

He’s completely engrossed in whatever’s on the screen. His dark brows are deeply furrowed as he snaps at someone and the sight makes me bite my lip.

I can’t help but feel a flush rising to my cheeks. He’s so damn hot it’s almost unfair. But I shake myself out of it. I clear my throat and call his name, “Damian…”

He doesn’t look up, his eyes still fixed on the screen. Instead, he holds up a finger, a silent command for me to wait. So I wait.

“Enough.” He straightens, his voice arctic. “I don’t want to hear excuses,” he snaps. “You had one job—just one. If you can’t manage it, I’ll find someone who can. You know how replaceable you are, don’t you?” The words are like a slap, even though they’re not directed at me. I stand there, my heart pounding, listening as he eviscerates the person on the other end of the call with that chilling tone of his.

Minutes pass, and he’s still engrossed in his call, still oblivious to my presence. I call his name again, a bit louder this time. “Damian.”

Nothing. He doesn’t even acknowledge me, his attention completely absorbed by whatever mess he’s dealing with.

I stride up to him, the top of my head barely reaching his shoulder, and without hesitation, I reach up and snatch the phone from his hand. The suddenness of my action catches him off guard. I hear the muffled voice of the person on the other end of the line before I bring the phone to my lips.

“He’ll call you back, sorry! I need my husband,” I say, before ending the call and lowering the phone.

Damian’s eyes lock onto mine, dark and intense, watching me closely. He doesn’t say a word, just stares, making me squirm. I swallow hard, feeling the need to justify myself under his penetrating gaze. “I-I was waiting for you, Damian,” I say, then add hastily, “I just... I needed to talk to you. I couldn’t wait any longer.”

Damian’s gaze shifts to my hair, and a slight frown creases his brow. Without a word, he reaches up and gently tugs the hair tie of my ponytail, letting my curls spill free. His fingers linger in myhair for a moment, smoothing it out, as if making sure it falls the way he prefers.

Satisfied, he meets my eyes again. “All right,” he says. “You have my attention now.”

A warm feeling spreads through me. Does he remember that day over a year ago, when Melissa’s mother mocked my curls so cruelly it made me want to hide them forever? I’d told him how her words left me feeling small and ashamed, how I started tying my hair back just to avoid their judgment. But he stopped me.Don’t ever hide them again, I love them,he’d said, his voice so sure it made my heart flutter. And just like that, he made me fall for him even harder.

From that moment on, I had proudly worn my hair down, letting the curls fall freely just the way he liked.

But I started tying my hair again out of practicality, not insecurity. Volunteering at the community center often required me to keep my hair out of my face, but seeing the deep frown on his face now made me realize how much he still notices small things about me.

“I’m heading to the community center,” I say softly, meeting his gaze. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

In response, Damian pulls me into his arms. I am not proud of myself because I don’t fight and let him crush my body to his. My heart races as I feel the unmistakable press of his arousal against me.

“I need to go,” I mumble against his shoulder, but my body remains limp, not even attempting to push him away. Again, instead of using words, he lifts me effortlessly and sinks down into his chair with me onto his lap.

I pull back slightly, only for him to capture my mouth with his. His kiss is fierce and demanding, his tongue exploring with a heat that leaves me gasping.

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