Chapter 288: Three Men Who Belong to the Streets

The atmosphere inside the safe house was a jarring contrast of domestic comfort and imminent violence.

The sprawling living room featured vaulted ceilings and imported hardwood floors, but the blackout curtains were drawn tight against the windows, sealing them in completely. The air smelled of expensive pine furniture, sterile cleaning supplies, and dried blood.

Lounging amidst the sleek, modern living room furniture were four men whose combined net worth could easily purchase a few small sovereign nations.

Damien Sinclair sat on a minimalist dining chair that had been dragged into the center of the room. His suit jacket was gone, his tie discarded, and he was leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. His face was buried in his hands, radiating the kind of profound defeat that usually preceded a corporate collapse.

"She called me a manipulative asshole," Damien muttered, his voice a low, gravelly rasp filtering through his fingers. "She packed her bags in front of me. She moved into the second-floor guest room. She refuses to even look at me."

Leaning against the marble fireplace mantle, Julian Cross took a sip of the gold liquid in his glass.

"Strategically, you executed the correct play, Damien," Julian reasoned. "You shielded her from unnecessary psychological distress while simultaneously neutralizing the threat. Her reaction is purely emotional, not logical."

"I told you so."

The smug voice echoed from the plush velvet sofa in the corner.

Kai Vane was sprawled out across the cushions, one leg dangling lazily off the edge. He was wearing a dark, silk button-down shirt, looking way too glamorous for the occasion.

"I looked you dead in the eye," Kai gloated, pointing a finger at Damien, "and I explicitly said, ’Damien, do not lie to your wife. She will find out, and she will kill you.’ But did you listen to your best friend? No. You went full Demon King. And now you’re sleeping alone."

Standing a few feet away, nursing a lukewarm coffee in a ceramic mug, Dr. Elias Thorne let out a soul-weary sigh. He looked exhausted. His white coat was draped over his arm, and the dark circles under his eyes were prominent enough to cast their own shadows.

Elias took a slow sip of his terrible coffee, his tired eyes drifting across the room.

"It really has been a while since we all got together like this," Elias deadpanned, his voice flat. He gestured vaguely with his mug toward the far, dark corner of the room. "Though, minus the unconscious, bleeding man over there."

Slumped against the wooden chair in the shadows was the French Viper boss. His face was bruised and swollen, dried blood caked at the corner of his mouth, his chin resting on his chest. He was out cold.

Kai let out a bright, amused laugh. He swung his legs off the sofa, marched over to Elias, and leaned into the doctor’s personal space.

"Aww," Kai cooed playfully. He poked Elias in the center of his cheek. "Did you miss us, Doc? Have you been lonely?"

Elias stared at Kai with dead eyes.

"No," he answered dryly. "I miss the sleep I used to get being away from all of you."

"Damien, listen to me," Julian interjected, pulling the focus back to the crisis at hand. "You pushed too hard. If Aria requested space, you must give her space. Let the situation de-escalate."

"Space is overrated," Kai scoffed, cutting in.

Kai placed one hand on either side of the exhausted doctor’s face and squished both of Elias’s cheeks together, turning his mouth into a puckered fish-face.

"My theory?" Kai announced loudly, ignoring Elias’s muffled groan of protest. "Women are biologically hornier than men. It’s a scientific fact. You just have to wait her out, Damien."

"Give her twenty-four hours in that guest room," Kai theorized. "The second she remembers what she’s missing, the second she wants to get railed, she will completely forget she was ever mad at you. Her libido will override whatever else she is feeling. Trust me."

Elias swatted Kai’s hands away, glaring murderously at him.

Julian took a sip of his scotch. "Oh, is that so, Kai?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Julian looked at him over the rim of the glass.

"Hasn’t Zoe Chen been avoiding you for three weeks now?" Julian casually destroyed him, "Her libido does not seem to be overriding her hatred for you."

The entire room went dead silent.

Damien finally lifted his face from his hands, shooting Kai an amused look.

Kai’s cocky grin instantly shattered. A flush of humiliated red crept up his neck. He crossed his arms defensively, scowling deeply at the floor.

"Zoe is a hostile, alien lifeform," Kai deflected, pointing an angry finger at Julian. "And we are talking about Aria right now. Do not deflect."

Elias rubbed his abused, aching cheeks, rolling his eyes.

"To be honest with you, Damien," Elias spoke up. "I don’t really care, but if you want to fix things with her, you have to do the slow-burn approach."

Damien frowned, leaning back in the dining chair. "The slow-burn?"

"Yes," Elias nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. "Wait until the homicidal rage fades from her eyes. Give her the space she asked for. And then, you show her you care without overwhelming her. Leave her a handwritten note. Send her her favorite flowers without expecting anything in return. Remind her why she fell in love with you by doing the small, sweet things."

Damien froze.

’Remind her why she fell in love with you.’

Damien’s golden eyes widened slightly. He asked himself the question, ’Why did she fall in love with me?’

He was no longer questioning if she still loved him.

He had woken up this morning with a faux-fur blanket carefully tucked around his shoulders. And resting perfectly beneath his cheek, protecting his face from the hard mahogany wood of the desk, was a soft throw pillow.

Damien swallowed hard.

Aria had been furious.

But she had still come downstairs in the middle of the night. She had still brought him a blanket so he wouldn’t get cold. She had still tucked a pillow under his head so his neck wouldn’t ache.

She didn’t hate him.

She still loved him. He just had to earn his way back into her good graces.

"I can do that," Damien murmured, his voice dropping into a quiet, fiercely determined register. "I can do notes. I can do flowers."

Kai stared at Damien’s unfamiliar lovesick, dopey expression. It creeped him out a bit. He whipped around, grabbing Elias by the face again, squishing the doctor’s cheeks together a second time.

"How does a dude who screws dudes know so much about wooing women? Huh?!" Kai shrieked at Elias, shaking the man’s head side to side. "What? Are you secretly straight?!"

"Ger off mme!" Elias mumbled angrily, grabbing Kai’s wrists and trying to pry his hands off his face.

From the dark corner of the living room, a low groan echoed off the ceiling. The sound of plastic zip-ties straining against wood squeaked loudly into the air.

Damien’s head snapped up. Julian slowly lowered his glass of scotch. Kai dropped Elias’s face, his hands dipping into his pockets.

The man slowly rolled his head upward, his dark eyes fluttering open as he finally groaned back to consciousness.