Page 54 of My Ruthless Husband

The memory of a doctor’s presence flickers in my mind, but the details remain elusive.

A sick feeling settles in my stomach as everything that happened earlier comes rushing back. I sit upright and find myself alone. It does nothing to ease my anxiety. Too hurt to even cry, I decide to go in search of Damian.

My body protests with every movement as I try to push myself off the bed. I wince but force myself forward, my hand trembling as it reaches for the doorknob. A breath of relief escapes me when it twists open without resistance. He hadn’t locked me in.

The door creaks as I step into the hallway, my gaze locking with Hal, who’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

He straightens upon seeing me. “Mrs. Montgomery, did you need anything?”

“Where’s Damian?”

“Mr. Montgomery is in his home office. I’ll inform him that you’re awake. In the meantime, have something to eat.”

“Is having something to eat a condition for me to see him?” I ask quietly.

He slowly shakes his head, eyeing my bandage and haggard face. “Consider it my plea, ma’am.”

“Growing soft on me, Hal?” I manage a small smile.

“You shouldn’t harm yourself like that.” I feel him eyeing my arm again.

When I remain silent, he speaks. “Mr. Montgomery is upset, seeing you like that was hard for him.”

I find it veryhardto believe. Is it possible that Damian is truly affected by my fainting?

No. I don’t think so. It’s hard for me to believe that he cares after what just happened. Shaking my head, I maneuver around him to proceed down the hall when he stops me.

“Don’t go looking for something you might regret finding. Some things are better left uncovered.”

I’ve always known Hal’s loyalty is unwavering, but could it be that his loyalty is blinding him? Is it possible he can’t see that Damian could be wrong, too? From the way he spoke, it seems like there’s more he knows—things that directly involve me. Things that, according to him, could make me regret digging too deep.

“I have nothing left than regrets. It’s only fair to know than to be in the dark.”

With that, I descend to the first floor.

I walk through the long hallway toward his office. As soon as I reach it, my feet halt of their own accord.

The intimidating door stands before me, a formidable barrier made of dark, polished mahogany. I raise my fist to knock but then pause before it could connect the hard surface. I’ve never interrupted him whenever he was in the office and often waited for him to come out. He doesn’t like to be bothered when he’s in his space, working.

But this is a different circumstance and I have the right to demand some time from his tight schedule to have a serious conversation that involves our future.

So I take the bull by the horns and open the door.

The luxurious office that stretches before me exudes power. The walls made entirely of glass offer uninterrupted views of our sprawling estate beyond.

In one corner, the glass walls reveal the motor court, where his sleek, expensive collection of cars stand like works of art. Damian is sitting behind the desk that occupies the center of the room. Its polished surface gleams under the soft, warm glow ofLED lighting built within Italian lacquer-finished cabinetry that lines one wall.

The familiar scent of the smoke reaches my nose and I frown. I had no idea he’d started smoking again, or maybe he never really stopped.

He’s studying a file with a deep frown on his face. He still hasn’t noticed me. Watching him smoke stirs a memory within me, making me squirm.

Damian takes a final drag then kills the half-finished cigarette in the ashtray on the desk distractedly. The way he does it, with a certain kind of intensity, is captivating in itself. Then, as if he can’t resist the urge for another drag, he pulls out another cigarette and slides it to the corner of his lips with a smooth, almost seductive motion.

My breathing changes and before I could suppress my reaction, his eyes snap up to me. With the cigarette still hanging from his lips, he finally breaks the silence. “What are you doing here?”

“You have my phone.”

Instead of answering me, he reaches for the lighter on the desk, never breaking eye contact with me. The flame flickers to life, casting a warm glow on his face as he leans in to ignite the fresh cigarette.

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