Alex stood outside the towering office building, his fingers clenched into fists as he forced himself to step inside. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to turn back, to ignore this summons, but he had no choice. His pulse hammered against his ribs as he approached the front desk, locking eyes with the impeccably dressed secretary.
"I have an appointment with Mr. Sandbrook," Alex said, his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside him.
The secretary barely looked up as she slid a keycard across the desk towards him. "Mr. Sandbrook is expecting you at the Grand Haven Hotel. Room 1703."
Alex stared at the keycard, his breath hitching. "Excuse me?"
The secretary finally met his gaze, her expression impassive. "He asked me to give you this. He's waiting for you there."
A flare of anger shot through Alex. Of course, Damien would summon him to a hotel instead of facing him in his office. He wanted control over this situation, like he had always had control. Alex cursed under his breath, scooped up the keycard, and turned around, his fury mounting with every step he took towards the exit.
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By the time he arrived at the Grand Haven Hotel—one of his family's own establishments—his rage had settled into a slow, simmering burn. The irony wasn't lost on him. Damien had chosen to meet him here, in a place that belonged to his family, as if mocking him.
He stood before the door to Room 1703, staring at the polished brass numbers. His instincts told him not to go in. But Alex had never been one to walk away from a fight. He knocked sharply, his knuckles striking the wood with force.
Silence.
He knocked again. Still no answer. His grip tightened around the keycard before he finally swiped it through the lock. The door clicked open, revealing an empty room bathed in soft golden light.
His eyes immediately landed on the nightstand. A single sheet of paper rested there, the words scrawled in elegant handwriting:
Wait for me.
Damien.
Alex exhaled sharply, his nails biting into his palms. The audacity. The arrogance. But instead of leaving, he sat down in an armchair by the window, staring at the cityscape beyond, watching as the buildings shimmered under the night sky. He didn't even realize when exhaustion crept in, pulling him under.
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A door closed softly, and Alex jolted awake.
His breath came shallow, his heart pounding against his ribs as he struggled to shake off the remnants of sleep. The dimly lit hotel room felt suffocating now, the weight of something unseen pressing against his chest.
Then he saw him.
Damien stood in front of the door, his frame shadowed against the golden light spilling in from the hallway. His suit was immaculate as always, not a thread out of place, but his eyes—those cold, calculating eyes—were locked on Alex with an unreadable intensity. There was no warmth in them, no hint of the man Alex once believed he had known.
A sickening silence stretched between them.
Alex surged to his feet, his body tense, his voice tight with barely restrained fury. "Why the hell did you call me here? No—better yet, why did you approach me in the first place? Why pretend? Why play with me, sleep with me, make me believe there was something real—only to disappear like I was nothing?"
Damien's lips curved, but it wasn't a smile. It was something sharper, crueler. He let out a slow, mirthless chuckle. "I thought you were smarter than that, Alex."
Alex's jaw clenched. "Answer me."
Damien took a leisurely step forward, then another, as if savoring the moment. "We were never serious."
The words landed like a slap, raw and brutal. But Alex refused to flinch. "Bullshit." His voice cracked, but he ignored it. "You knew who I was all along, didn't you? You sought me out on purpose."
Damien tilted his head, his expression one of mock curiosity. "And if I did?"
Alex felt his stomach twist. "Then why? Why go through all of this?"
The answer came swiftly, mercilessly. "Because I wanted to know what it felt like to fuck a beta—and a Masterson."
Alex's breath caught. He barely had time to process the sheer viciousness of the words before Damien continued, his voice as smooth as silk and twice as deadly. "Since I'm not into alphas, your siblings weren't an option. That left you."
The room tilted. The blood drained from Alex's face, leaving him cold, weightless, like he might shatter with the slightest push. His fingers curled into trembling fists. His vision blurred at the edges, rage and devastation battling for dominance inside him.
"You—" His voice broke before he could even form a coherent thought. His entire body trembled with the effort to keep himself together. "You're disgusting."
Damien smirked, entirely unfazed. "Am I? Because as I recall, you were more than willing. You seemed to enjoy it just fine."
A fresh wave of nausea rolled through Alex. He turned sharply, heading for the door. "I'm done."
He barely made it three steps before fingers curled around his wrist, yanking him back with force. Alex winced with pain. Why did he have to grab the same wrist his brother had already bruised the other night?
"You can't leave." Damien uttered ominously.
Alex's chest heaved. "Watch me."
Damien's grip didn't falter. His voice dropped into something lower, more dangerous. "If you walk out that door, I'll destroy your family's business. I'll ruin them."
The threat hit like a gut punch. Alex wrenched his wrist but Damien held firm, his nails pressing into his skin. "I don't care."
Damien chuckled, the sound completely devoid of amusement. "Oh? Then perhaps you'll care if I ruin your friend Eric. Or that pathetic little restaurant you seem so fond of."
Alex froze.
His breath came in quick, uneven bursts. His mind reeled, scrambling for a way out, but the reality was sinking in, thick and suffocating. Damien wasn't bluffing. He wasn't making idle threats.
"What do you want?" Alex's voice was barely above a whisper.
Damien's expression darkened, shadows flickering behind his eyes. "What do I want?" He let out a slow breath, then leaned in slightly, his presence overwhelming. "I want you to understand something, Alex. Your family ruined mine. And in return, I will ruin yours."
Alex swallowed hard, his throat tight with emotion. "If you have a problem with my family, keep it between us. Leave everyone else out of it."
Damien's lips twisted into something resembling amusement. "You don't get to make demands." His fingers finally uncurled from Alex's wrist, but his gaze never wavered. "The more you try to run, the more people you love will be pulled into this. So be a good boy and listen."
Alex's stomach churned. "You already slept with me. You already broke my heart." His voice cracked, raw and bitter. "What more do you want?"
Damien stepped closer, close enough that Alex could smell the faint hint of his cologne, could feel the heat of his body even through the suffocating tension between them. His voice was quiet, almost mocking. "I ended things with my old fuckbuddy." A pause. "I want you to take their place."
Alex felt like the floor had just dropped out from beneath him.
His fingers dug into his palms as he fought back the sudden sting behind his eyes. He refused to cry in front of Damien. He wouldn't give him that satisfaction.
"You want me to—" The words caught in his throat, bile rising.
Damien's smirk deepened. "Yes. Let me use you. Until I don't need you anymore."
The sheer cruelty of his words slashed through him like a blade.
For a long moment, he couldn't speak. Couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.
Then, finally, his voice emerged, hoarse and barely audible. "Fine."
A flicker of something—satisfaction, victory—flashed across Damien's face.
"But not tonight," Alex added, forcing steel into his voice. "I'll do what you want, but let me leave now."
Damien studied him, his expression unreadable. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he exhaled sharply, as if letting go of some unseen restraint. "Alright. I'll send you the details." His gaze darkened. "Be there when I call."
Alex gave a stiff nod, then turned toward the door. He didn't dare look back.
The moment he stepped out, the air in the hallway felt different—cooler, clearer, but still suffocating in its own way. Each step away from that room felt like it took a piece of him with it.
And as the door clicked shut behind him, it felt as though someone had ripped his heart out, leaving a hollow space where it used to be.