Chapter 2: The Getaway
Chapter 2: The Getaway
Damian dropped Victor as if he were nothing more than garbage. He turned to me, his cold, hardened expression instantly melting into something fiercely protective. Without a word, he took off his jacket and draped it over my shivering shoulders.
"Are you hurt, Serena?" he asked quietly, completely ignoring the chaotic murmurs of the high-society crowd recovering from the shock.
"Only my pride," I replied softly, though my wrist throbbed with a fiery pain.
He gently took my injured hand, his jaw clenching as he noted the dark, angry bruises already forming in the shape of Victor's fingers. "He’s going to lose that hand," Damian promised.
We walked out of the ballroom, leaving Victor whining on the floor in a pool of his own making. The cool night air hit my face as we approached the waiting armored SUV. Once inside, the heavy doors locked with a reassuring thud, cutting off the flashes of the paparazzi who had caught wind of the disruption.
"Did we get it?" Damian asked, pouring a glass of whiskey and handing it to me.
May you like
I reached into the hidden lining of my clutch and pulled out the micro-drive. "Every single admission. He confessed to the offshore embezzlement, the wire fraud, and the blackmail. He was so busy trying to break my spirit in front of his friends, he didn't realize he was broadcasting his own federal indictment."
A dark, dangerous smile played on Damian’s lips. "Brilliant. By tomorrow morning, Victor will be penniless. But first, we need to deal with this wrist."
