Page 112 of Emperor of Lust

The man laughs—smug, taunting.

Then he hangs up without a word.

My pulse pounds heavily in my ears as I shove the card back into her bag. Then, just as I go to zip it up, I catch sight of something else that makes my world collapse.

No.

I reach inside, my hand shaking as I pull the foil package into the low light of the kitchen.

It’s an open condom wrapper.

Empty.

My vision blurs at the edges as rage swells inside me, clawing up my throat. I storm back to the bedroom, where she’s fast asleep, blissfully ignorant of the inferno raging in me.

“Hana!” I shout, jerking her awake.

She bolts upright, her eyes wide and haggard as she looks at me—in the eyes, for the first time since she walked in.

I hold up the wrapper, my hands shaking with fury. “What thefuckis this?!”

She stares at me, silent, not a hint of guilt on her face.

“Answer me!!” I roar, my voice bouncing off the walls.

The silence hangs for a second. Then I watch her throat bob as she swallows.

“What did you expect?” Her voice is ice, clipped, emotionless. “This was never real, Damian.”

I have to get out. I stumble back, storming through the penthouse, then out the door, down the two flight of stairs to the street, my blood boiling, my thoughts churning.

I surge into the night air. The second I get outside, I hear her footsteps quick behind me.

“Damian,” she calls, her voice breaking a little. I stop, turning to face her, and her expression falters, a flicker of pain crossing her face. But she pushes it down, her mask slipping back into place.

I can’t hold back. “Is this what I think it is?” I growl, my voice low and dangerous.

Her lip quivers, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Is it?!” I shout, storming over to her until I’m looming over her in front of our building.

“Yes.” The word comes out almost like a confession.

My heart shatters, raw pain lancing through me like a blade. “Why?!” My voice is hollow, broken.

“Because…” she says, her voice shaking, “you’re not enough.”

I can’t think. I can’t breathe. My fist slams into the wall beside her head, the impact sending a jolt through my arm. She flinches, turning her head away, and it makes me hate myself even more.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see some asshole standing nearby, phone raised,filmingus. My anger surges, a tidal wave of rage and humiliation crashing over me.

“Fuck off!” I roar.

The motherfucker doesn’t budge. He just keeps fucking recording.

“FUCK. OFF!” I yell.

He backs away a little, keeping his phone raised, and I snap. I storm over to him, slapping the phone from his hand.

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