Seraphine

thirty one

Damien

Damien finishes the dishes and climbs into his car. As he starts the engine, Seraphine's voice fills his head, and he imagines himself sitting in a carriage instead. 

Angered by his own thoughts, Damien fists his hair and blows out a harsh breath, peeling out of the driveway so fast he's sure he burns rubber. 

Lyla just barely has enough time to open the gate before he's speeding off the property, through the woods and into town, towards his second club. 

Atlantis is his pride and joy, even more so than Electra. The latter was actually Enzo's idea, something having to do with drawing in a younger crowd, college kids who want a fun night out. Atlantis, however, is more for his higher paying customers--those involved in a certain community. 

Damien pulls into an open spot in the parking lot, avoiding the valet service, and tilts his head, inspecting the gaggle of people standing outside of his club. After a moment he nods to himself, satisfied with the sophisticated-looking guests. 

He steps out of his car and shuts the door, pocketing his keys. He straightens his suit jacket and runs a hand through his hair, roughing it up. Damien lets out a sigh as the tall white pillars and arched entryway welcome him, and he prepares himself for the trouble his head of security, Wirt, had warned him about. 

"Sir." The bouncer at the entrance greets him, and Damien unbuttons his suit as he nods towards the larger man that steps aside. 

"Joey, where is your boss?" Damien asks once he climbs the last step, and Joey spares him a glance before resuming his intimidating glare at unwanted customers. Mostly college students gaping at the tall, beautifully constructed building they could only dream of getting into. 

"Last I heard, he was at VIP, sir." 

"Thank you, Joey." The man nods, and Damien walks briskly inside, immediately greeted by the flashing lights. He blinks a couple times, curses his past self for insisting that 'it's not a club if it doesn't have strobe lights', and pushes on towards the bead curtain. After a few seconds of navigation, he locks eyes with Wirt, who stands straighter under his scrutinizing gaze. 

Damien's powerful presence causes people to unconsciously move away from him, and like Moses parting the Red Sea, he walks right through the crowd without uttering a single syllable. 

When he reaches Wirt, his hands are casually in his pockets, hiding his tightly closed fists. His cool facade has been slipping all week, all because of his precious darling and her glorious fire. He never expected that fire to be aimed at him, however, and it was throwing him off completely. 

Right now, he was sure his anger was showing, because Wirt couldn't look him in the eyes. 

Good, thought Damien, giving in to his rage. Be fucking scared. 

"Wirt, you said there was an issue?" Damien's voice, though calm and seemingly soft, cut through the music like a knife and Wirt physically winced before straightening his spine and pulling back the curtain so they both could step through. 

"I did, sir. The past couple nights, a couple guys have been coming up to me and trying to bribe me for a room. Tonight, one of them brought a girl and it didn't look good." 

Damien's chest constricted and he blew out a sigh through his nose. He tried not to convey his anger, but the way Wirt took a step back told him he wasn't concealing as well as he thought he was. 

"And you let them bribe you, Wirt?" At this, Wirt flinched and raised a hand to scratch the back of his neck. 

"Not necessarily, sir, but--"