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It’s very dark outside the limo.
Now I am really scared.
“We’re here,” Damon’s driver announces to me as we turn a corner, everything outside the windows obscured bytrees. They are the first words he’s said to me since I hopped into the limo back at Dad’s.
A chill runs through me.
Here we go.
We pass through the imposing wrought-iron gates that lead inside Damon’s property – the only aspect you can see of the complex from the outside. The gates swing open automatically as we approach, which means that I amexpected.
God, that thought really sends me over the edge.
What am I letting myself in for here?
Just remember Dad. You’re doing this for Dad. Forget about everything else.
I look around like a tourist at a theme park when we slowly drive inside the compound. Thank God there are some lights to illuminate the surrounds. Even in the nighttime, I notice the garden here is immaculate. I didn’t suspect that Damon Penmayne would be interested in horticulture. He must hire an army of gardeners to keep it in pristine condition.
We pass by an outdoor swimming pool. I can clearly imagine the gangster here in the middle of summer as dawn breaks, swimming laps with ease; his muscular, athletic, tattooed body gliding through the clear blue water.
The main building itself rises up in front of us intimidatingly, just like the man who owns it. The architecture is a fusion of both traditional opulence and contemporary elements. The outer façade has white marble columns that give it some kind of classic statehouse look.
I am impressed, to say the least.
I even spot a helipad tucked away in the corner.
Of course Damon has a freaking helipad in his garden.
Wow.
And there’s a garage too. I bet he keeps his collection of high-end luxury sportscars in there.
There is an air of caution inside these walls. I know I’m being watched at all times by an army of security hiding somewhere like sneaky little leprechauns. Damon really has a handle on this aspect of his life, making sure it’s all tightly controlled.
The man certainly loves his dominance...
His paranoia must be off the charts.
Damon has evidently built this mansion in order to show off his power to visitors, and it isdefinitelyworking on my poor little scared ass.
“I bet this place doesn’t come cheap,” I remark with snark to the driver – trying to mask my fear - hoping for a response from the man.
But he doesn’t reply.
None of these guys like a conversation, do they?
Damon opens the front door when my limousine pulls up. He’s standing there in one of his trademark black suits, unsmiling. His dark eyes watch me as I emerge from his vehicle. I smell his expensive aftershave immediately. His scar is defined by the floodlights around the property.
I can’t help but get weak in the knees when I see him again. The way he’s looking at me... his confidence, his cool composure, and his sheer physical strength – it all hits me like a tidal wave of mixed emotions. This guy’s got the world wrapped around his finger. Everything bends to his will.
Including me, apparently. Coming here like this tonight.
“Hello, Ava.”
That calm, resonant voice that shoots straight through me.
That cocky confidence.
