Ask Her

**ROMANY**
When I woke up, I was still a bit sore but that was fine. That was the least of my worries. I had bigger problems than *that* coming my way.
Damien.
He was back to acting like a Douchecanoe instead of my Dreamboat.
I couldn't believe his nerve. After I refused to talk about the marks on my shoulder and neck, he insisted that I at least tell Ruby. *That* made me laugh. No way was that gonna happen. Although I didn't tell him who they came from, *he* knew. Of course he did. That I refused to verbally confirm it for him was what really did him in. He was fuming pissed so I asked him to leave. Maybe I shouldn't have, because I really didn't want him to go. But I knew that if he somehow saw the bruises on my breasts too, he would know exactly how intimately Alex had touched me. And I wasn't ready for that.
In the end, Damien stormed out of here with murder in his eyes. Leaving me to my thoughts.
*God. What if Alex tells him?* Shaking myself, I decided not to worry about that. For the first time since arriving here, I couldn't wait to see Alex. The bastard.
After a quick shower, I sifted through my luggage until I found my ugliest, baggiest pair of pants and my most prim and proper long sleeved button up.
Once I was dressed to my personal satisfaction, I raced downstairs for breakfast.
The atmosphere was much the same this morning, I realized quickly. Glares from every corner of the room from every first floor maid and calculated scowls from the male guards. *I wonder if they answer to Damien.* It might be a good idea to find out.
Walking into the dining room, I stopped short. There were more places set today. Instead of four, there were now six.
"What is your malfunction?" Stella's voice droned behind me. "And what on Earth are you wearing?"
I spun around, taking in her red pencil skirt and loose black vest. I shuddered, my body quivering as yesterday's breakfast activities flashed through my mind. I cocked an eyebrow at her, and asked, "Do you *always* wear skirts to breakfast?"
Her face roasted, turning so red it appeared to be pulsing. I took a seat in the middle of the table this time. Far, far, away from the scene of the crime. As I steadily began to load my plate with everything *but* sausage I heard her snarky laughter.
"How was your dinner last night?" she quipped, taking a seat in the same chair she was in yesterday.
I stared at her. Working my face into a blank mask. *She knows about my dinner? Does she know the other stuff too?*
"A pity you didn't drink that wine," she baited. "Poor Santos was so eager for you to taste it."
*Santos?* Who is Santos?
I smiled, my eyes fluttering angelically her way. "Perhaps you can show me who he is, so that I can apologize."
She grinned, staring down into her bowl of grapefruit as she said, "Oh no worries. He'll introduce himself to you soon enough."
I chuckled, staring at a fat piece of bacon on my plate. "You had them lock me out last night, didn't you?"
Her dead brown eyes glinted happily as she said, "No. I personally took care of that part myself."
*You stupid skinny bitch.*
I picked my bacon up and chucked it at her, smacking her hard enough in the face that it stuck for a full five seconds. She snarled, jumped up for a second to make a sufficient enough fuss.
"You really ought to eat something a little more substantial," I said sweetly. "Think of all the fists you'll attract with a few more curves on you."
"Bitch," she hissed, dabbing her face with a napkin.
"Ladies! You... *must* be having a good time. Allow me to join you."
I glanced up, my fork freezing halfway to my mouth. *Who the hell is this guy?*
He looked a bit like Alex. Same green eyes, same jawline, similar nose. But this guy had a much wider smile and his hair was more brown than black.
"Stop fucking around cousin, and eat." *Of course they are cousins. Because that's just what the world needs. More assholes like him.*
My ears burned, as my gaze lifted, settling on him. The fucking weirdo.
Alex stood at the head of the table wearing a tight white shirt and a pair of white tennis shorts. I almost giggled. I'ver never found tennis shorts very manly. It is my belief that any and every man that wears shorts that high above the knee, looks ridiculous. I don't know... maybe it was how I was raised.
I glared at him, raising my eyebrows up in pointed mockery as I eyed his shorts.
"What are you trying to do?" he hissed, eyeing my outfit then taking a seat right next to me instead of at the head of the table where he belongs.
I scooted my chair a bit farther down before setting my gaze on him. "I am *trying* to eat."
Heavy footsteps sounded, skidding to stop behind my chair. I didn't know who it was, because I had decided to focus on my food. But then he sighed, and I knew him. Damien. Funny that I already know what his frustrated sigh sounds like.
I continued to eat quietly, pretending to be oblivious to the fact that four out of the five people in this room were staring dead at me.
"We need to talk," Damien said.
"We need to eat," Alex replied, his voice wary. "We'll talk after."
I nearly leapt out of my seat when I felt Damien's hands close over the back of my chair. But I played it off well, I think. I glanced at Alex... couldn't resist. The green of his eyes were dark with fire as they stared back at me. I fought the smile I gave him, I honestly did, but every now and then sunshine just bursts out of me and I have no control.
"I can keep hearing that we need to eat. Yet the only one's eating are me and the doll face over there."
"Shut up, Mickey," Alex snapped.
To my utter relief, Alex stood and made his way back over to his usual seat. Without missing a beat, Damien slid in next to me and began to load his plate.
I smiled to myself, unable to keep my eyes off of him when his vines are this close. I tilted my head at him questioningly. He wasn't looking at me, but he grinned just the same when he noticed me watching him. Chuckling softly, I glanced at Alex, hoping that he was enjoying my outfit. Shaking his head, just barely, he finally turned away.

**DAMIEN**
"What happened between you two yesterday?" I asked, taking a seat in front of his desk so I didn't end up punching the wall.
Alex smirked, sliding behind his desk and lighting his cigar. He took a couple of good pulls before he released his smoke and said, "What did she *say* happened?"
I leaned back, throwing my feet up on the edge of his desk in the way that he hates. His eyes flared for a moment, but he took another pull of his cigar to hide his irritation.
"You know she didn't tell me," I snapped. "If she had, why the fuck would I bother asking you?"
Alex laughed, a sick smile spreading across his lips. "How do you know *something* happened? Maybe nothing did."
*Stupid fuck.* "She's wearing your signature all over her fucking back. She tried to hide it from me, but I saw them the moment I walked into her room."
His face soured, his brows drawing together angrily. "You walk into her room quite a bit it seems. Maybe too much."
"Fuck you and that dumb bullshit. You know Ruby wants her untouched."
Alex snorted, his face twisting into a sneer. "*Untouched*? By you? Or just me?"
I clenched my teeth angrily. "You fucking *assaulted* her. You bit the fuck out of her back."
"I assaulted her," Alex repeated coldly. "Is that why you're so upset? Because you think I forced her to cum all over my hand?"
My blood drained, and Alex smirked. "Bullshit," I hissed.
He laughed, granting me a wide smile. "Why don't you go ahead and ask her then? Ask her if she said no. Or ask her if she said stop." He smirked. "Or... ask her when she said... please."