Chapter 101 A Bargain Struck in Shadows
"Damian!"
Ashley's voice rang out, sharp and clear, as she wrestled free from his insistent kiss. Her temper teetered on the precipice of fury, her fingers trembling with the urge to strike him. Yet, she held back, her anger finding voice in a roar instead of a slap.
Damian appeared unperturbed, as serene as if he were merely observing a rabbit nibbling on a carrot. He lazily wiped away the remnants of their kiss, his gaze languid. "You seemed to enjoy it," he commented, his tone nonchalant.
Indignation flared within Ashley, a sense of her pride being trampled and ground into the dirt. She gathered her composure, her voice barely steady as she retorted, "If you're so eager to vent, go find any Miss—don't touch me. I am no tool for your desires, Damian. Our business is finished; you're not my client anymore. And even if you were, you have no right to expect this from me."
Her tolerance was wearing thin.
Damian's casual disregard for her, his assumption that he could sleep with her when he pleased, kiss her out of frustration, dismiss her objections and resistance as if they were inconsequential, was a clear indication of his lack of respect for her.
With a nonchalance that belied the tension in the room, Damian slipped off his trousers, revealing long, powerful legs. He moved with a graceful ease towards the tub and settled in. "You seem too upset to discuss anything serious, Ashley. So, let's drop it for now," he suggested, reclining against the edge of the bathtub. The city lights cast long shadows over his figure, glistening with droplets that were not just water but Ashley's tears.
Fiercely wiping her tears away, Ashley cleared her vision, only to find herself turning towards the bathroom shelf, her tears welling up anew.
How could Damian so easily switch between roles? One moment, he was passionately kissing her, and the next, he could coldly shift back to business as if nothing had happened.
Ashley felt pathetic. She could have just walked away, regardless of whatever life-and-death matters Damian wanted to discuss.
But her feet wouldn't move.
"You talk," she managed, putting all her effort into those two words. Even breathing felt laborious.
Without looking back, Damian rested his injured hand on the countertop, idly playing with the water with his left. "Caught your breath?"
A sharp pain shot through Ashley's lungs, not emotional but physical pain, the kind that suggested she might keel over any moment. "What is it that you want to say? I can keep myself in check," she said, her voice strained.
Behind her, a woman's breathy accusations were almost tangible, and though 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 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."
Ashley couldn't suppress a laugh, a bitter, mocking laugh.
"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," she retorted, her tone 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 needed to answer.
"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," Damian said calmly.
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.
"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," Damian said, his tone even.
"I never let myself be taken advantage of for nothing. Manchester, right? Then, Damian, do have ten million ready for me!" Ashley retorted, her tone defiant.
Damian turned to look 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," he said, his voice echoing in the silence.
Ashley muttered a silent curse, grappling with the enigma that was Damian's thought process. How did he manage to transition between roles with such fluidity?
She readied the toothbrush and placed it aside. "Is that everything?" she asked, her voice laced with exhaustion.
She made a silent vow to herself. If he had another request, she would abandon the ten million without a second thought.
"Wait for me outside. I'll bring the files to you later," Damian commanded.
A wave of frustration washed over Ashley, akin to the feeling of stepping in dog excrement. "Isn't it too late? Can't we review them tomorrow?"
"Do you have any idea how much money I lose with every minute we delay?" Damian retorted, his tone sharp.
Once again, Ashley was reminded of her position in this partnership. She was the one with less power, the one who was at the mercy of Damian's whims. "Understood," she conceded, her voice barely above a whisper.
Retreating to the living room, Ashley finally had a moment to absorb the interior decor. It was a stark contrast to their former marital home, yet it was a fitting reflection of Damian's personality. There was no trace of her in this house, a fact that was not lost on her. She surmised that Damian must have loathed their old place, not wanting to spend another day there. How deeply did his hatred for her run?
Eventually, exhaustion claimed her, and she found herself drifting off to sleep, sprawled on the couch.
When Damian emerged, clad only in a towel, he found Ashley curled up on the long, black leather sofa. Her long hair fell over her face like a waterfall, her fair skin a stark contrast against the black leather, making her appear unusually vulnerable. Her small frame, usually so ready to challenge him, seemed almost fragile. Did she believe herself to be invincible?
He moved to sit, causing the sofa to dip slightly under his weight. Damian, his upper body bare, his abs clearly defined, radiated a warmth that filled the room, asserting his presence. The sudden realization startled Ashley awake from her deep slumber.
She sat up abruptly, her movements swift and panicked. "Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep."
Damian extended his right hand, a look of frustration etched on his face. The bandage was soaked, blood seeping through. "Rebandage it."
"Weren't you supposed to be careful…" Ashley began, but quickly swallowed the rest of her reprimand. Did she really have the right to criticize him?
The rebandaging process went more smoothly this time, although the result was still far from perfect. Ashley felt a sense of helplessness. "I'll ask Hayden for some pointers later on," she promised.
Uncharacteristically unfazed, Damian continued, "Go get my clothes from the bedroom."
Ashley instinctively retorted, "Couldn't you have brought your clothes down from the second floor? Picking up clothes isn't exactly strenuous."
"Forgot," Damian replied, his tone nonchalant.
His walk-in closet was absurdly large, with clothes meticulously organized by style, season, and color. Whoever had arranged his wardrobe was either a neat freak or suffered from obsessive-compulsive tendencies.
As Ashley opened the cabinet containing the pajamas, she pulled out a garment with too much force, knocking it into a drawer. She hadn't intended to snoop, but when she looked down, she noticed a white bottle. The label was in English, bearing a pharmaceutical name she didn't recognize, but its purpose was clear: it was for treating insomnia and depression.
Damian had insomnia? Depression?
