Faking it with Damian Black novel (Millie) novel Chapter 55

Chapter 55
-DAMIAN-
“What the hell?” I murmured when Gian walked into the interrogation room
My transfer from the holding cell to this isolated room was f ucking strange from the beginning. They locked me up with seven other people when they took me into custody. Once Detective Fraser uncuffed me and left, the men inside the cell ganged up on me, hence the bruises all over my body.
It’s the same reason I didn’t want Millicent or any of my family to see me. They’ll worry about my safety. I could handle a beating. I’ve handled more in the last couple of years, but seeing Millicent distraught and worrying for my safety, that’s something I don’t think I could deal with, especially when I’m behind bars.
“Is that a new trend?” Gian drew a circle over his face, his eyes counting all the purple bruises visible on my arms.
There was dried blood on my shirt, and from the painful pulsing on my chest, I might have a broken rib.
“The f uck are you doing here?” The interrogation room had a long table in the middle, two metal chairs, and a huge one- way mirror covering one wall. They gave me water and didn’t secure my hand in cuffs. I prepared myself for the worst, but this was definitely an unexpected plot twist.
Gian dragged the empty chair from the table and plonked his a ss on it; his assertive eyes made me uncomfortable.
“Wrong question,” he said, taking out a cigarette pack, lighter, and a packet of chewing gum from his jacket pocket and setting it on the table. His leather jacket, black shirt, faded jeans, and boots reminded me of an undercover spy agent in movies. Even the way Gian carried himself inside the room felt like he’d done this before.
“It’s past visiting hours, and I specifically requested not to let anyone visit me except for my assistant and attorney.” I murmured, refusing to cave under his intimidating gaze. I crossed my arms, my lips curled when pain shot through my left side.
I definitely have a broken rib. F ucking hell.
Tongue pressed into the inside of my cheeks. I continued. “You’re not a police officer, not a legal counsel. Again, what the f uck are you doing here?”
Each encounter I had with Gian made me more intrigued by his true identity. His appearance here shuffled the puzzle pieces I’ve put in place from Mon’s investigation, generating more riddles I needed to solve.
He has the influence a regular citizen does not have. He is above the law, or he has someone inside the Roslin City Police Department, but the question still remains: why is he here?
“You’re not asking the right questions.” Stretching his arms forward, he lit a stick from the cigarette pack. Drawing a huge breath, he blew it out, the scent of burning tobacco filling the room.
“I don’t have time for your games,” I said dismissively.
He laughed, trapping the cigarette with his thumb and forefinger and setting it down on the ashtray. Smoke danced upward from the cigarette as Gian’s laughter died down, “If you don’t change your tactics, all you’ll ever have is time to digest how you messed up this chance, Damian Black.”
My jaw fluttered. I hate that he was right. He holds the upper hand, and I need to play it cool and play my cards right. “How is Millicent doing?”
From the look on his face, that was still the wrong question. He looked stunned, amused. I’m glad one of us finds this situation amusing, not. “I’m here because of her.”
Agitated, I groaned. I know she wanted to see me. Hell, I wanted to see her. I f u cking missed her, but I didn’t expect her to ask for Gian’s help. She knew how much I despised this man. My conversation with him about the photos he gave Millicent was long overdue. Then it hit me.
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