7. Chapter 7

138 12 7
                                    



⋈•⋈•⋈•⋈•⋈•⋈•⋈•⋈•⋈⋈•⋈•⋈•⋈•⋈•⋈•⋈•⋈•⋈



IARA-(age 18)


As Damien guides me to his apartment, I remain quiet the entire way. This city area is unfamiliar to me with its bustling streets, vibrant marketplace, blaring horns, and throngs of people. I had always believed that this city was as empty as my own life, but this part proves otherwise.


My father has always kept me under strict control, not in a figurative sense like in the movies. It wasn't a luxurious cage made of gold and adorned with jewels, but a literal cage constantly monitored 24/7. I am unsure how I managed to leave for my studies at all... Perhaps it was because men showed less interest in me if I lacked knowledge.

My heart beats loudly as we walk beside each other, with one of his guards carrying my bag. I can't help but feel out of place suddenly like I don't belong anywhere. The only place that feels like home is the room my brother has offered me in Paris.

I miss him terribly...perhaps Damien will allow me to contact him secretly. Not that I need his permission, but I want reassurance that he won't harm my brother. If he even lays a finger on him, I would take extreme measures and dispose of his limbs in the depths of the forest.


With a sigh, I follow Damien from the elevator and through the grand wooden doors into a completely different world. It's those kinds of places which my mom used to watch with me on television. His place is the exact personality of his, maybe the designers did a really good job or maybe it's the place he made for himself.

The living room was a study in contrast. The walls were painted a deep charcoal gray, while the floor was covered in a gleaming white marble tile. A large window on the far wall let in the evening light, casting long shadows across the room.

In the center of the room was a sleek black sofa, facing a low-slung coffee table made of glass and gold-plated steel. A single black chair sat in the corner of the room, its leather upholstery gleaming in the dim light. A large abstract painting hung on the wall behind the sofa, its bold colors adding a splash of vibrancy to the otherwise monochromatic space.

On the farther left I see an equally mesmerizing kitchen with black marble as its countertop with golden pendant lights giving a perfect hue to the area. This kitchen might be every chef's dream.

I remove the heels just to feel a bit relaxed and when my feet land on the plush white carpet I feel like walking on the clouds. It's that soft. My feet automatically feel relaxed after being tortured in those high heels,

What? I wanted to feel sexy in the dress.


I reached for the floor-to-ceiling window handle and it slid all the way to my right. The cold air hits my face with a whiff of freedom that I finally feel. I don't know what Damien's intentions are with me and by the tales I have heard of him, I should be afraid of his presence but still, why do I feel the complete opposite? Like I have known him for a long time.

Glancing behind me, I see two men deeply engrossed in conversation. As I turn to leave, a slight shiver runs through my body. But then his words stopped me in my tracks - "I don't have enough faith in her to take her there. It's best for us to stay here for a while." I understand that he's referring to me as the "her" and doesn't trust me, just as I don't. But hearing his words still cuts deep.

Maniacally Yours! (Yours series 1)Where stories live. Discover now