Damon Armani decided to escape the mafia world 5 years ago and emigrate to New York, where he became a whole new person. A different name, a different story, a different personality. But escaping the mafia is impossible especially if you're the next...
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•𝔉𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔞 𝔏𝔦𝔩𝔶•
The grip around the knife wrapped up in my hand went tighter the more i approached the door.
The lock was being messed with; the person on the other side of it trying to break in.
If my intuition is correct, its Damon behind the closed door; trying to invade my privacy and wander into my house like the pervert he is.
This time though, he's leaving here without laying a touch on me. And he's going to be unrecognizable.
I'm not going to kill him, but i sure as hell going to hurt him.
The door is finally pushed open and i sprint to stand behind it before its open all the way. The bastard walks in, his back to me. I lift my leg up and lick his back as hard as i can, sending him on the floor face first. I smirk, satisfied with my action. He turns around, looking up at me with gleaming eyes and an amused smile that makes me want to puke on his face.
"Well, hello there." he easily stands up, unfazed by the kick i just delivered against his back. I push close the door, my knife still pointed at him.
"You," i push my tongue on the inside of my cheek in annoyance, shaking my head "You're such a cunt."
"Language, Miss Carter." he warns, tilting his head.
Its not my first time cussing him out. So, who is he to order me around and control the way i talk to him? I talk to him how i want to talk to him.
"Cut the bullshit." i snap, extending the knife forward more "What do you want? Stop invading my privacy, you bastard."
He looks down at my body, looking at my exposed thighs that have bandages over the stitches i did last night. I'm wearing a night gown, ready to go to bed. Before Mr. Demon here decided he wants to play again.
"Did the cuts scar?" he asks, looking back at my face.
"Why? You care?" i ask sarcastically.
"No, i was kinda hoping that they did."
He is such an asshole. I'm not going to give him the satisfaction that he wants to feel, so i stay quiet, glaring deadly at him.
"Honestly, Demon?" i smirk, seeing the scowl on his face when i called him Demon instead of Damon "I'm not in the mood to fight with you."
My phone rings again, and my eyes fall on the device sitting on the couch next to to Damon, in his eyes sight and hand reach. He looks down at the caller Id and when he sees who is it his face visage changes completely, turning from challenging to what? Sad? Vulnerable? Tormented? I can't tell.
What i know is is that he knows the caller Id, personally. From my point of view, i can't see who's calling so i ask him "Who is it?" just to see what he answers.
