The Price of Greed [1]
🐯Damien🐯
This woman, more than fifteen years my senior, is circling me. Like a lioness sizing up her prey, she prowls. She has forced me to my knees. No one else has ever managed to make me submit to such humiliation. Normally, I am the one forcing women to their knees. Never the other way around. But Helena isn’t just any woman. She possesses a certain maturity. She knows exactly how to handle men. She knows how to exert control without ever lifting a finger in violence
My arms rest on my thighs. My palms can feel the fine hairs on my skin standing on end. Goosebumps have broken out across my entire body. This must be exactly how women feel when I stalk around them just as slowly—almost in slow motion—to study their reactions. But right now, I am the one at Helena’s mercy.
She stops behind me. The seconds feel like hours; time has ground to a near halt. Then, out of nowhere, I feel the sensation of leather dragging across my back. She strokes the leather crop upward along my spine. Just before she reaches the center, my chest and abdominal muscles coil with tension. Even the beast between my legs twitches in response.
Right now, a primal need stirs within me. This cannot continue. I am not a man who can be controlled indefinitely. I am not a submissive. This setup defies my very nature. I am the one who holds the reins.
Slowly, I plant one foot on the floor, then the other. As I push off the carpet and rise to my full height, the leather crop slips. Helena drops it out of sheer shock.
This “mature” woman was quite useful during my university years. Helena was an excellent teaching tool for understanding power dynamics. She had no idea that I was doing nothing more than using her for my own education. But I finished my Master’s months ago. Helena has outlived her purpose.
I feel it the moment I turn around. A dark smile spreads across my face. The predator, whom the huntress thought she had under her thumb, has finally awakened. Her eyes are laced with shock. The brunette tries to maintain her dignity.
“Kneel. Down. Again. Damien Blackwood.” She hisses each word through her teeth.
I simply shake my head with disdain. “It’s over, Helena. You will never exert your power over me again. Power that you never truly held in the first place.”
She reaches down to retrieve the crop, desperate to put me back in my place, but before her hand can touch the leather, I seize her wrists and pin both her arms above her head. I drive her back toward the red wall of the playroom. In her face, I see it: fear. This is new. Helena has never shown fear toward me before.
Once we hit the wall, I only need one hand to lock her wrists above her hair.
“Damien, don’t you dare suppress my authority!” Her voice is brittle. I let out a silent, inward laugh. Her pathetic attempt to reclaim control has just crashed and burned.
“Authority?” I ask, visibly amused. “You have no authority. Do you think just because you have several million in your account, you can wield power over me?” My voice is now laced with a lethal undertone. “You seem to have forgotten who you’re dealing with, Saint-Clair. I can freeze your ill-gotten wealth in a heartbeat and redirect it into the Blackwood corporate accounts.”
Her pulse quickens; I can tell by the way her breath hits my cheek in short, ragged bursts. “No, please. I’m not alone at home. I—I have a daughter.”
“A daughter?” Curiosity piques my interest. But something about the way she says the word “daughter” doesn’t sit right with me. “How old is the girl?”
“None of your business,” she snaps, the words firing like a pistol. Her fear seems to vanish in an instant. “She is off-limits to you, Blackwood.” She turns condescending. She uses my surname intentionally. Helena only calls me that when she is trying to assert who is in charge, when she wants to belittle me.
“So your daughter isn’t old enough to look after herself?” I press, just to be certain.
Helena shakes her head. “Eloise is an adult. But she still thinks she doesn’t have to follow any rules. The neighborhood avoids me because of her. If you take my money now, I won’t even have my dignity left. I’ll lose everything that matters to me.”
Helena has just revealed her true nature—her wealth and her reputation are far more important to her than her own flesh and blood. And yet, she speaks again.
“Take her, Damien. Take the rebellious girl. Bring her under your control. Keep her away from those wonderful friends of hers.” Her grin widens. “How about a deal?” A deal. She wants to offer me a deal? Of course she’s trying everything now to protect her bank account. “What are you offering me, Helena?” Even though she has no leverage over me, I want to hear what she thinks will save her skin. At least, what she thinks will save her.
“I’m offering you my daughter.” She can’t be serious. “Teach Eloise some manners. Your club, Obsession, offers plenty of possibilities. The deepest core of the wealthy elite meets there. My millions remain untouched if you manage to raise Eloise into a trophy daughter. But if you fail... I will sign whatever is necessary for you to take control of my finances.”
My eyes narrow. With rage. How could I have ever allowed myself to relinquish control to such an egotistical woman—one who would sell her own daughter? Pure repulsion wells up inside me. Helena Saint-Clair doesn’t deserve to have a child
I squeeze her wrists so hard that her cry of pain echoes through the entire playroom. If the walls weren’t soundproofed to dampen the noise, her scream would be heard throughout the entire hallway outside the Red Room.
I take a deep breath, considering her offer. Actually, no—I’m not ”considering" it. I’ve already decided. Her daughter is already in my hands; the deal Helena is offering is a mere formality.
“I will take care of your daughter.” This isn’t a favor to Helena. “The moment I lay eyes on her, she will be mine.”
She nods, her gaze laced with a toxic mix of relief and malice. I release her arms. “I expect her tomorrow night. You know where to find me. From that moment on, Saint-Clair, she is my property.” I turn my back on her. “Now get out!”
I hear her hurried footsteps toward the door, which slams shut shortly after.
A wave of relief washes over me. I grab my shorts and pull them on.
I never cared who Helena really was. It was simply irrelevant. She was a study object. Nothing more. I only continued to use her services for one reason: after dominating countless women, I needed a change of pace once in a while. I wanted to experience giving up control myself.
I should have ended this a long time ago. Now, it’s done. Tomorrow will be the last day I ever encounter Helena Saint-Clair. After that, she is no longer relevant in my life. Helena’s daughter will be the only remnant of her existence.
Eloise is my property now, and I will decide the young woman’s fate. Her mother no longer has a say in the matter.
I finish dressing and leave my private playroom. A dark, promising twitch tugs at the corner of my mouth. Sooner or later, Eloise Saint-Clair will get to see this room for herself.
