Chapter 5 No.5

Dinner was a torture session disguised as a meal.

The dining table was twenty feet of mahogany, laden with silver and crystal. Damon sat at the head. Julian was relegated to the side, halfway down.

Vesper was seated to Damon's immediate right.

It was a position of honor she didn't want. Every time she looked slightly to the left, he was there. A dark, looming presence.

"So, Julian," Damon said, slicing into his steak. The knife scraped against the china, a harsh sound. "I reviewed the quarterly reports for the entertainment division."

Julian paled. "The market is volatile, Damon."

"You lost twelve percent," Damon said. "In a boom year. It seems your attention is... divided."

Julian choked on his wine.

Damon turned his gaze to Vesper. "And you, Vesper? What do you do to contribute to the Sterling legacy?"

"She dabbles," Julian answered for her, wiping his mouth. "Charity. Garden parties. She keeps the house."

Vesper gripped her fork so hard her knuckles turned white. She wanted to scream. I wrote the song that is currently number one on Billboard. I am Iris.

Damon saw her hand. He saw the anger.

"She looks capable of more," Damon mused, swirling his red wine. The liquid looked like blood in the candlelight. "Perhaps she just needs... better management."

The double entendre hung in the air, thick and heavy.

A cousin, drunk on expensive chardonnay, piped up. "Is it true about Serena Sharp? The tabloids say she's pregnant."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Vesper took a long sip of water to keep from screaming.

Julian looked like he was about to faint. "Rumors. Just rumors."

Damon laughed. It was a dry, cold sound. "If she is, I hope the father has deep pockets. The Sterling Family Trust has a very specific clause regarding illegitimate children. They get nothing. And the parent who sired them gets cut off."

Julian dropped his fork. It clattered loudly onto his plate.

"Speaking of the Trust," Julian said, his voice strained. "Vesper has been... difficult. She's asking questions about the annual disbursement signatures. Delaying the process."

Damon raised an eyebrow. He looked at Vesper. "Is that so?"

Under the table, Damon shifted. His leg, solid and heavy, pressed against hers.

Vesper tried to pull away, but the table leg trapped her on the other side. Damon pressed harder, his knee wedging between hers, forcing her legs apart beneath the heavy tablecloth.

It was a violation. It was a game.

She stared straight ahead, her face burning. He was casually eating his steak while dominating her space, owning her reaction.

"I just want to understand what I'm signing," Vesper managed to say, her voice shaking slightly.

"A prudent quality," Damon said. He slid his foot up her calf, the friction of the leather against her stockings sending a shiver up her spine. "Perhaps Julian underestimates you."

"Vesper looks flushed," Julian noted, oblivious to the assault happening three feet away from him.

"Is the room too warm for you?" Damon asked, his eyes mocking.

"I'm fine," she managed to choke out.

"Good," Damon said. He released the pressure on her leg suddenly. "Because dinner is over."

He stood up. "Vesper, walk me to my car. I have a file for Julian in the trunk, and he looks... indisposed."

Julian was practically hyperventilating. "Yes. Yes, Vesper. Go."

Vesper stood up, her legs shaking. She followed Damon out of the dining room, away from the light, and into the dark.