Chapter 100 Ripping the Buttons Off His Shirt

With a cocktail of disdain and vexation coursing through her veins, Ashley made her way to the master bedroom, her eyes narrowing at the sight of Damian's ostentatiously opulent en-suite bathroom. As the bathtub filled, she embarked on a swift exploration of the room.

She had barely begun to take in the room's decor and bedding when her gaze fell upon a tall, shadowy figure lurking behind the window drapes. Drawing them back, she was confronted by a colossal telescope, a titan among its kind.

This was the type of telescope typically reserved for celestial observations, for marveling at galaxies—and given Damian's proclivity for excess, likely the moon's craters as well.

Her curiosity ignited, she leaned in to peer through the lens.

The sight that met her eyes was staggering—a familiar tableau from just thirty minutes prior, where she had been locked in a mental duel with Damian!

The realization hit her like a bolt of lightning. Damian had an astronomical telescope in his bedroom, pointed directly at her home. It was eerie. It was perverse. It was madness!

"Damian, explain yourself!" she demanded, her voice laced with accusation. "Did you invite me here to indulge your voyeuristic tendencies? It's a pity that even the most advanced telescope can't penetrate walls, so you're missing out on my bedroom and bathroom. All you have is a view of my humble living room. Who would've thought that our esteemed Mr. Damian, a man of such standing, would stoop to playing peeping Tom!"

Her indignation poured forth in a relentless tirade.

Overwhelmed by feelings of frustration, suffocation, and humiliation, and finding that words did little to quell her anger, she was tempted to slap him twice for good measure.

Damian, ever the picture of cool composure, asked, "Are you certain?"

Furious, Ashley seized Damian, dragging him towards the telescope without uttering a word. "See for yourself!"

Bending slightly, Damian peered through the lens and indeed, his gaze fell upon Ashley's house.

Earlier that afternoon, Sienna had dropped by for a visit. He had mentioned to her that the telescope, primarily used for stargazing at night, served a mostly decorative purpose during the day.

Sienna, skeptical, had challenged him with a smirk. "Are you saying we can't watch anything but stars? Ha, lots of people keep telescopes at home these days to spy on their neighbors. I've even heard of some folks making videos for cash. Is that your kind of thing, bro?"

Damian had responded firmly, "This is a high-powered astronomical telescope. Don't entertain such twisted thoughts."

After tinkering with the device for a while, Sienna had switched it to standard mode and started hopping around excitedly. "Look at this! That building is so clear! Do you own several places in this complex? Do you have one in that block?"

Before he could answer, Sienna cleverly deduced, "Never mind, I'll check the top floor first. You'd never live beneath someone else."

And just like that, her viewfinder had zeroed in on the top floor of the building in question.

As for what Sienna had seen, Damian needed to be more informed.

At that moment, Damian felt a headache brewing. He set the telescope aside and, with a slight curl of his lips, looked down at the woman standing before him. "Do you really think I'd go to the trouble of setting up equipment to watch you? What's so special about you that would make me go through all that?"

Ashley was livid, her fists clenched, and itching to throw a punch. "Excuses! This is low-grade mischief. I see you in a whole new light, Mr. Elite."

Unfazed by her mounting anger, Damian remained cool. "Coincidence. Believe it or not."

How could it be such a coincidence that the telescope was aimed precisely at her home? She would have to be a fool to believe it.

"The bath is ready, Damian. Enjoy at your leisure. And about the house, thanks for the offer, but it's too much for me."

Damian pinched the bridge of his nose. "Hold on. Did I say you could leave?"

At that moment, Ashley felt like a pufferfish on the verge of bursting. "I'm warning you, don't push me too far."

Damian stood before her. "Help me with these buttons."

"You!!!" Ashley exploded, her fury reaching its boiling point. How dare he continue to provoke her?

But Damian extinguished the flames of her anger with his calm precision. "Sienna was here earlier. She messed with it. There's no need for me to spy on you, and frankly, I couldn't care less. If I really wanted something, why wouldn't I cut to the chase and come in using the code? Why bother with the hassle of keeping my distance?"

Sienna?

Ashley was still seething. "Did you tell her where I live?"

"Would you prefer she knew or not?"

Ashley fell silent, her argument abruptly halted. Her hand reached out, tearing at the buttons on his shirt with a ferocity that seemed to embody her frustration with Damian himself. She imagined grinding him into dust.

With a sharp snap, her force proved too much. A button was sent flying, bouncing a few times before disappearing under the couch.

A wave of awkwardness washed over Ashley. "Some cheap shirt," she muttered.

Damian's eyelid twitched, observing the fiery spirit of the woman standing before him. "At this rate, I might have to don armor next time, as if preparing for a medieval battle."

Ashley retorted, her words laced with sarcasm. "You'd be better off without it."

After all, his skin was so thick that nothing could pierce it.

His shirt now lay half-open, revealing firm pectorals and the outline of his abs—a potent display of masculinity. Damian raised his hand, pulling her close with a confident motion. "Or perhaps wearing nothing at all could also be an option."

Ashley's gaze shot up hurriedly, landing on a swath of honey-toned skin and a heaving chest. "Even with your hand like that, Damian, you can't resist playing the bad boy, can you?"

"My hand might be injured, but other parts aren't."

Heat crept up to Ashley's ears, uncontrollable as she stammered, "The water's ready."

With unsettling ease, Damian grasped her wrist and led her into the steamy bathroom. She spun into the space, and when she steadied herself, she found herself trapped between his body and the wall.

"What do you want?!" she demanded, her voice raised in an attempt to drown out the ambiguity with anger.

The atmosphere was thick with suggestion, their half-realized intimacy hanging in the air. Her hands were dripping wet, and the sight of Damian, clad only in his pants, was reminiscent of a peacock in full display.

"Help me wash," Damian requested.

Ashley's eyes widened, darting between him and the bathtub. "Sorry, Damian, I'm not your bathhouse attendant. That service isn't on the menu."

He tugged her hand towards his buckle. "Open it."

Was he deaf to plain English? It was as if her words didn't register with him.

Defiantly, Ashley curled her fingers, emphasizing each word, "Don't push me."

Damian frowned. "Take a look for yourself. Can you undo this belt with one hand?"

In a daze, Ashley glanced down. The belt, designed with a slot and buckle mechanism, clearly required two hands to unlatch and pull free. One hand wouldn't suffice.

Her fingers fumbled awkwardly with the fastener, accompanied by soft metallic clicks. Heat spread from the tip of her nose to her cheeks. By the time she had pulled it free enough to loosen his pants, her face was as red as a ripe tomato.

In their three years of marriage, they had never found themselves in such an intimate scenario or performed such an embarrassing act.

Damian's gaze lowered, deep and swirling, as he watched her bent over, fingers deftly at work...

An impulse surged within him.

"Miss anything else?"

Ashley started to ask what he meant, only to realize what he was referring to.

With a jolt, she dropped the belt, her face darkening. "Happy now?!"

A slight smirk played on Damian's lips. "Are you genuinely innocent or just pretending? Even married women shouldn't be so prudish about these things, right?"

With her cheeks burning, Ashley's only thought was to grab the belt and stripe his skin with it. "The injury was too high; you should've aimed three inches lower."

Damian's eyes danced with a teasing suggestion. "Hit what? A pothole?"

Ashley's mind raced with embarrassing scenarios, and in a mix of shame and irritation, she blurted out, "Get lost!"

Damian casually pointed to the sink. "Alright, help me squeeze the toothpaste."

How dare he continue giving orders? Ashley was fuming.

"Damian's breath could never be fresh, even with a brush," she murmured bitterly. "Might as well save the toothpaste and not!"

Suddenly, a shadow loomed over her, and an unexpected intruder forcefully sealed her lips. The struggle was brief; his tongue invaded, chasing hers in a relentless dance.

Ragged breaths and his approaching nose stole her air, her head pinned against the wall. She couldn't tell if the dampness was steam or his sweat, but their mingling made his advances even more fierce and penetrating.

---

"Damian!"

Struggling free from his aggressive kiss, Ashley felt her temper teetering on the brink as she fought the tremble in her fingers, yearning to slap him. Yet, she held back, managing only to roar at him in anger.

Damian exuded an air of tranquility, akin to that of a man observing a rabbit nibbling on a carrot. He lazily wiped away the remnants of their shared saliva. "You seemed to enjoy it," he remarked, his gaze languid.

Ashley felt a surge of indignation, as though her pride was being ruthlessly crushed and ground into the dirt. Struggling to maintain her composure, she barely managed to keep her voice steady. "If you're so desperate to vent, go find some other woman—don't touch me. I am not a tool for your desires, Damian. Our business is concluded; you're no longer my client. And even if you were, you have no right to expect this from me."

The revulsion was unbearable.

The way Damian treated her as if she were a mere commodity, taking her to bed at his whim, kissing her out of frustration, and casually dismissing her objections and resistance as if they were insignificant. It was abundantly clear—he harbored no respect for her.

Nonchalantly, Damian discarded his trousers, revealing his long, muscular legs as he moved with an effortless grace towards the tub and settled in. Only then did he speak. "You’re too upset to discuss anything serious, Ashley. Let's just drop it for now."

He reclined against the edge of the bathtub, the city lights casting an array of shadows over his figure, glistening with droplets that were not merely water but also Ashley's tears.

Fiercely wiping them away, she cleared her vision, only to turn towards the bathroom shelf and feel the tears surge forth once more.

How could Damian so effortlessly switch between roles? One moment, he was passionately kissing her, and the next, he could coldly revert to business as if nothing had transpired.

Ashley felt pathetic. She could have simply walked away, regardless of whatever life-and-death matters Damian wished to discuss.

But her feet refused to comply.

"You talk." It was a mere two words, and she put all her strength into them. Even breathing felt laborious.

Without a backward glance, Damian rested his injured hand on the countertop, idly toying with the water with his left. "Caught your breath?"

A sharp pain lanced through Ashley's lungs, not emotional but physical pain, the kind that suggested she might collapse at any moment. "What is it that you want to say? I can keep myself in check."

Behind her, a woman's breathy accusations were almost palpable, and although Damian didn't need to see to guess, he prodded. "You're after the big cases, the ones that rake in the cash, right?"

Brushing away stubborn tears, Ashley replied with a rigid tone, "Yes, I want to make money. Big money."

Her desperate need for cash was common knowledge, and she felt no shame in admitting it.

With a composed demeanor, Damian offered, "There's a case on KM Road. Win it for us, recover the money from our books, and I'll add ten million to your account."

A bitter, mocking laugh escaped Ashley's lips.

"Damian, do you really enjoy this fishing game? Baiting me like a fish, catch and release, release and catch. Is that fun?"

There were limits to toying with someone.

But he seemed to have none.

Unperturbed by her tone, Damian continued, "The regional director at the KM Road Manchester branch embezzled company funds, colluding with the finance department to cook the books. Current estimates put the missing funds between fifty and eighty million. We must recover that money."

Ashley scowled. "That's your problem."

Her tone was still laced with hostility.

"It's impractical for our in-house legal team to get involved, and no other law firms have found a suitable candidate yet. You've studied international law and have experience with overseas litigation, so why should we look further afield? Of course…" Damian finally turned around, his gaze inscrutable beneath the damp mist. "It's up to you."

Ten million.

That was a hefty legal fee!

How many small cases would it take to earn that sum? It could take her a decade or more to see that kind of money.

A tug-of-war between dignity and dollars raged within her.

Ashley still had to answer.

Damian said, "We need to dig deeper for more substantial evidence. If you take the case, you'll need to spend at least a month in Manchester sorting out the evidence. Whether we sue abroad or find a way to bring the defendant back to sue here, that's your call."

Ashley's internal scales tipped drastically.

Even if it took three months to finish the lawsuit, the payoff would be substantial.

She could resolve a lot of troubles with that money.

Plus, if she were to prosecute abroad, the case would likely be handled within the UK. Damien was too busy to attend the proceedings, which, for Ashley, was a point in her favor.

Damian said calmly, "You're not indispensable for this case, but since I've leaned on you a bit, I don't expect something for nothing. It's fair if you want to claim what you're due; after all, you've already paid a price in a sense. And if Ashley ever thought herself too good for money obtained in such a way, I wouldn't force her."

"I never let myself be taken advantage of for nothing. Manchester, right? Then, Damian, do have ten million ready for me!"

Damian turned to gaze out at the dark blue sky dotted with twinkling stars and drifting clouds—the night was beautiful.

"Squeeze the toothpaste onto the brush and set it on the cup."

Ashley cursed silently to herself, struggling to understand Damian's thought processes. How did he manage to shift between roles so seamlessly?

She prepped the toothbrush and set it down. "There, is that all now?"

If he had another demand, she swore she'd forget about the ten million!

Damian said, "Wait for me outside. I'll bring the files to you later."

Ashley felt like she'd just stepped in dog poop. "Isn't it too late? Can't we look at them tomorrow?"

"You know how much money I lose with every minute we delay?" Damian retorted.

Once again, Ashley felt the weight of her role as the party with less power—whoever worked with Damian was surely cursed. "Understood."

Back in the living room, Ashley finally had a moment to take in the interior decor.

It was nothing like their marital home, yet it unexpectedly suited Damian.

Although, not a trace of her presence existed in the house.She surmised that Damian must have harbored a deep-seated loathing for their former abode, a place he could not bear to inhabit for even a day longer.

Just how profound was his revulsion towards her?

In time, the weight of exhaustion claimed her, and she succumbed to sleep, her body sprawled haphazardly across the couch.

When Damian emerged, his body swathed in a towel, he cast his gaze downwards at the figure curled up on the lengthy, obsidian leather sofa.

Her hair, long and lustrous, spilled over her face like a waterfall; her porcelain skin stood in stark contrast against the black leather, painting a picture of vulnerability.

Her petite frame, always poised as if ready to defy him—did she believe herself to be invincible?

He bent down and seated himself, the sofa dipping slightly under his weight.

Damian, his upper body exposed, his abs clearly defined, radiated warmth, his presence filling the room. This sudden realization stirred Ashley from her deep slumber.

Ashley sat up with a start, her movements as swift as a wind-up toy springing into action. "Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep."

Damian extended his right hand towards her, frustration etched on his face, the bandage soaked with blood seeping through. "Rebandage it."

"Weren't you supposed to be careful…" Ashley's reprimand trailed off, swallowed by her own doubts. Did she truly have the right to chastise him?

The rebandaging process went more smoothly this time, though the end result was far from perfect. Ashley felt a sense of helplessness. "I'll ask Hayden for some pointers later on."

Uncharacteristically unfazed, Damian continued, "Go get my clothes from the bedroom."

Ashley retorted instinctively, "Couldn't you have brought your clothes down from the second floor? Picking up clothes isn't exactly strenuous."

Damian simply replied, "Forgot."

Hah!

His walk-in closet was absurdly spacious, with clothes arranged meticulously by style, season, and color. Whoever had organized his wardrobe must have either been a perfectionist or possessed obsessive-compulsive tendencies.

As Ashley flung open the cabinet containing the pajamas, she pulled out a garment with such force that it collided with a drawer. She hadn't intended to pry, but as she glanced down, she spotted a white bottle.

The label was in English, bearing a pharmaceutical name she didn't quite comprehend, but its purpose was unmistakable: for the treatment of insomnia and depression.

Did Damian suffer from insomnia? Depression?