Chapter 8

Damon

Normally at these family dinner parties it was either one of Evan’s casual girls threatening to rip out the fake eyelashes of some other flirty girl, or Sarah telling someone to “get fucked.” But never me threatening to whack someone. I was the sensible one who didn’t get drunk, or try to hit on someone’s wife, or ramble on about some incendiary political minority group about to ruin the world with their idealistic views.

My mother pleaded with me. Dyland was a big investor in one of her latest ventures.

I stood my ground. “He crossed a line. Staff are off bounds. All women are.”

She shook her head. “What universe have you landed on? Staff have been touched up since the time of the Danes and probably before that.”

My mother and her English history. Despite being the most educated in our family, with a master’s degree, she hadn’t quite caught up with women’s rights. Ironic for someone who wore the pants in the family.

“In those times, the English lived in their own shit,” I argued. “We’ve come a long way since then. Thanks to the Romans, we have excellent sewerage, and thanks to progressive thinking, women are treated with the respect we all deserve.”

I was no longer that son that would do her bidding. I passed that baton over to Evan years ago after I left home for the army. One of the few reasons I joined the SAS was to escape my mother’s ruthless ambition for us to be the richest family in the UK.

“Your father’s acting like a first-class idiot again. Why does he have to make a fool of the family like that?”

“Maybe it’s got something to do with how close you and Billy have become,” I said.

“That’s my business. Anyway, your father’s got his own lovers in London.”

My parent’s loose morals when it came to who they slept with made my skin crawl. “There’s such a thing as divorce, you know.”

She twisted her mouth. “It’s very complicated. We own all of this together. And I have big plans for this place. Your father’s portion is essential. We stand to make a fortune. If only he’d sign on that dotted line.”

“I’m glad he hasn’t stooped that low. What are you going to do about the farmers? Land that they’ve been leasing from the family since your beloved Henry the Eighth.”

She pulled a face. “He’s one of my least favourite kings. However, I admire him for breaking away from the corrupt clutches of the papal state.”

I leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “I hope you liked your present.”

“It’s very pretty.” She half-smiled.

“If I see Dyland, I’ll knock out those wine-stained teeth of his,” I warned.

“The army’s changed you.” She walked off.

I entered the kitchen and found Vivianna sitting on a chair, resting her legs.

She flinched as though I was the last person she wanted to see. “I appreciate your stepping in earlier.” She looked down at her hands. “But I don’t wish to cause problems. I don’t want to blow this job.”

“I’ve got enough say in this family to decide who comes and goes.” I remained there, holding her hesitant gaze. “You don’t remember?”

“Remember what exactly?” She opened her hands, and those dark, searching eyes held me captive.

Samantha entered the kitchen. “Oh, there you are,” she said to Theadora. When she noticed me, Samantha looked from me to our new maid. “Oh, Mr. Manson, do you need something?”

Yep. This girl’s story.

“I came here for a glass of water,” I lied. “I’m good, thanks.”

Samantha said to Vivianna, “They’re about to serve dessert.”

When the older woman left, Vivianna jumped up off her seat to get back to work.

“Wait,” I said. “When do you finish?”

Her lips parted and it took her a moment to answer. “In about an hour’s time. After I’ve cleared the table.”

“Meet me out the front by the labyrinth.”

Her face twisted into a confused frown, bordering on baffled. I sensed a question shining in her wide eyes, but she simply nodded slowly and then hurried off.

Was this her? She didn’t seem to recognise me.

Maybe she had a twin.

Taking a deep breath, I soaked up the dewy salt air and walked to the hedged labyrinth where we played as children. The centre proved a perfect spot for secret meetings. It was also there that, as a fifteen-year-old, I lost my virginity to an older, more experienced, girl.

Vivianna sat on a filigree iron seat. She’d undone her plait, and her long dark hair blew around her face in the gentle breeze. She was so beautiful she made my pulse race.

I sat next to her. “Vivianna.”

“Please call me Vivi.”

I smiled at how her face contorted with aversion. “I love your name. It suits you.”

She looked down at her feet, something she did a lot. “Mm…if I had the time and money, I’d change it.”

“That would be a shame.” I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Most of the women around me, including my sister, had this unhealthy obsession with wearing lots of makeup. Whereas Vivianna didn’t wear anything but her natural beauty.

Recalling her mascara-streaked face the night I rescued her, I kept asking myself: Was this really the same girl that did drugs and was potentially selling herself?

“So, you wanted to speak to me about something?” she asked, fidgeting with her fingers.

“You don’t remember?”

“Remember what?” She looked up at me with wide questioning eyes.

“I saved you from those pimps.” I took a breath.

“Pimps?” Her brows knitted.

“You were drugged to eyeballs,” I said. “So, I’m not surprised you’ve forgotten.”

“Oh… shit.” Her face lit up with shock. “That was you?” A line formed between her brows. “They weren’t pimps. Or mine…” She cupped her mouth with her hand. “You think I was selling myself?”

I took a moment to choose my words carefully. “Well, seeing you half-naked in a corset and drugged... I naturally assumed…”

“You thought I was a drugged-out prostitute?” Her face filled with horror. So much so, that guilt slithered through me for jumping to conclusions.

She bit into her lower swollen lip that I’d already been eyeing off all night.

“Thank you.” She shook her head as though trying to make sense of something shocking. “God knows what they would have done to me.”

I rubbed my jaw. “You weren’t selling yourself, then? What about the drugs? I mean, you fell asleep as soon as you got into the car. I carried you inside.”

“Oh, my god, that was you,” she said, as though it had only just dawned on her. She looked away into the distance. “I was working in costume as a waitress. I only agreed to dress like that because I needed the money.” She glanced at me briefly as though seeking my forgiveness. “Girls wearing very little paraded on stage in front of a room of men. Greasy, sleazy men.”

The hatred in her voice was visceral, and disgust coated her eyes. “It was an auction. They were selling their virginity.”

“Right? So they tried to auction you?” I asked.

Was this stunning woman still a virgin? Impossible.

She bit into her lip again and for some reason, that one action drew my attention away from the gravity of her story to her lips again. I hated myself for feeling this overwhelming urge to ogle her. To touch her. To take her into my arms.

An obsession that started three months ago. I hadn’t stopped thinking about her. My dick hadn’t forgotten either. She’d had a starring role in all my fantasies.

Assaulted by guilt, I was no better than the reprobates she described at that trashy bar. But I couldn’t deny the rush of blood down south. I desired Vivianna as I would something rare and supremely sensual.

With those larger-than-usual tits spilling out of her corset, and curvy arse, her image had remained etched in my erotic memory.

I’d even searched the internet to see if she was selling herself. I’d never bought sex before.

In a way, I almost would have preferred knowing she’d worked as a prostitute rather than being a virgin.

What would I do? Undo those popping buttons and rub those full breasts against me? Or taste her until she screamed out my name?

But a virgin?

“They drugged me,” she continued. “And lucky for me, I managed to escape in time. That’s when you found me trying to fight them off, but then the drug must have kicked in because the next thing I remember was waking up on your couch. Thanks for leaving me the clothes. I’ve still got them.” Her lips curled into a shy smile, and my world lit up.

“Keep them. They’re Sarah’s. I figured you’d need something a little more comfortable to wear.” I raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t want to undress you.”

I would have loved to have undressed her, but only with her consent. She didn’t need to know that. She didn’t need to know how my dick had ached for days after seeing her looking like an erotic version of Sleeping Beauty of my sofa.

A photo I would have paid a fortune for.

Even now, I would have gone on a diet of stale bread and water to have Vivianna on my couch in that corset.

Get a fucking grip.This girl has been abused and mistreated by an ugly portion of society—men that deserve to have their balls chopped off.

“That explains why you’ve been staring at me all night,” she said with a hint of a smile. “At least now, I know.” She shook her head in wonder. “Who would have thought? What a small world.” Her face filled with youthful wonder, which made my mouth water for those rosebud lips.

“Are you comfortable here?”

She nodded. “I love it here. It’s amazing. The first time since leaving home, I’ve got my own space.”

“How old are you?” I studied her closely.

“Twenty-four,” she responded, playing with her fingers again.

And you’re still a virgin?

“You left home early?”

“Yes.” Her face turned dark again. I sensed from that change of mood that something or someone had chased her out.

I changed the subject. “I can show you around sometime, if you like.”

My curiosity about Vivianna surged. I wanted to get to know her. To dig deeper.