ACCIDENTALLY MARRIED TO THE BILLIONAIRE SINGLE DAD (Gabrielle and Damon) novel Chapter 22

Chapter 22

GABRIELLE’S POV

I shut the door behind Cassie and leaned my head on it, digesting all the information I got from her.

“She wasn’t lying but she’s not entirely right,” I heard a woman say.

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I spun around fast, my heart thudding wildly, and saw Fiorella standing there. “Where the hell did you come from?”

She smirked and walked closer, her long flowy skirt swaying with each step. “I never left.”

The sun hit her eyes and I realized how magnetic they were. I suddenly hated Damon all over again for making women like her orbit him like a star they couldn’t escape.

Fiorella leaned against the armrest, crossing her arms like she owned the place. She placed her leg on the small side stool and I could see her gold anklet peeping through.

“Cassie only knows the surface,” she said. “But she’s right, Damon doesn’t marry for love.”

I narrowed my eyes. “And what are you to him?”

Her lips curved into a slow and seductive smile. “The one woman who doesn’t need a contract to remember her place.”

I folded my arms. “Congratulations. That makes you what, his mistress?”

She laughed softly, tilting her head. “Such an old–fashioned word. I prefer exception.”

“Right,” I said flatly. “Because sleeping with a man who collects wives for sport sounds so exceptional.”

Her eyes glimmered, but her tone stayed cool. “You sound jealous.”

“I sound disgusted,” I shot back.

Her laugh echoed in the room. “Don’t be. I’m not sleeping with your husband anymore, of course.”

“What do you mean?”

“You should ask him directly,” she answered. “But we don’t sleep together anymore. Long before you came.”

I scoffed. “You must think I’m a fool. I mean, look at you. I remember you telling me last night that you were taking him upstairs to take care of him. That you were only doing something he couldn’t ask of me”

Fiorella’s smirk deepened. “And you believed that?” she asked, brushing invisible lint off her skirt “You’re adorable”

“Don’t play games with me.” I warned.

She walked closer, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. “Damon likes it when people assume things. It saves him the effort of lying”

“I’m not interested in his mind tricks,” I said coldly. “I just want to know why women like you keep showing up in my life.

Fiorella stopped inches away, lowering her voice. “Because we all have one thing in common, we can’t forget him You won’t either.”

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Chapter 22

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I clenched my jaw. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I?” she whispered, her perfume hitting me again. “You think you’ll leave untouched, that you’ll escape whatever spell he puts on people. But soon you’ll start to defend him. You’ll hate him, crave him, and hate yourself for craving him. That’s when you’ll understand.”

“Understand what?” I demanded.

“That Damon doesn’t need to seduce anyone,” she said simply. “He lets you seduce yourself.”

My breath caught, and I hated the truth in her tone. I shouldn’t be feeling anything whatsoever for that man. He was worse than the devil himself.

But there was this pull.

Fiorella smiled faintly, studying my face. “Don’t look so worried, Gabrielle. The fall is the fun part. But I had already fallen for him and gotten over him a long time ago. His hold on me is just because of everything we’ve been through together. We go way back, Gabrielle. I am not your enemy.”

She turned to leave, her anklet glinting as she walked toward the door.

“Tell him,” she said without looking back, “that Fiorella stepped out for business. You should check his closet.”

And with that, she was gone leaving behind her scent, her words, and a silence that felt heavier than before.

You should check his closet.

I rushed upstairs to his bedroom and saw Fiorella had left the key in the lock. I exhaled deeply as I pushed it open.

The scent of his cologne hit me the second I stepped inside. His closet looked like something out of a magazine. There were rows of black suits and shirts arranged by shade, everything looked clean and expensive.

I stepped inside slowly, scanning the shelves. Nothing looked unusual at first. Then I noticed the black safe built into the wall, half–hidden behind his jackets.

My pulse quickened.

I pulled the jackets aside and crouched in front of it. There was no combination lock, just a biometric scanner. Typical.

My eyes darted around until I spotted a small box on the top shelf, tucked behind folded sweaters. I reached up and grabbed

it

It was heavier than it looked.

I took a deep breath, trying to decide if I should open it or not.

My curiosity won.

I took the key from an attached compartment and unlocked the box. A gasp escaped my lips.

Inside were pictures of a bloodied back, chains, and whips My stomach turned as I flipped through them. Each photo was

worse than the last.

The angle and the lighting weren’t random. Someone had documented the pain. My throat tightened. It was a man’s back in all of them, but the last photo made my fingers freeze.

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Chapter 22

There was a reflection in the metal frame of the chains.

A face.

Damon.

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My knees almost gave out. I sank onto the floor, clutching the box like it might vanish. He had been the one tied up, bruised, cut open, and whipped till his skin tore.

“Why would he keep this?” I whispered, my voice barely holding together.

I pulled out the whip and it was bloodied too. Fresh blood. What if this was what Fiorella was doing for him that he couldn’t ask of me?

He was torturing himself.

But why?

“Gabrielle,” I heard Damon call from downstairs but I stayed sitting on my bed, staring at the wall.

The box from earlier was now on my bed.

As expected, he didn’t knock. He pushed the door open and stepped in. He stopped when he saw the box.

His expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes flickered, like a storm flashing behind glass.

“Where did you find that?” His voice was terrifyingly calm.

I didn’t look up. “You should lock your doors better.”

He stepped closer until the air between us grew heavy. “You shouldn’t touch things that don’t belong to you.”

I finally met his eyes. “Then maybe you shouldn’t keep things like this in your closet.”

He glanced at the photos spread across the bed, his jaw tightening for the briefest second. “You went through them.”

“I did.” My voice cracked slightly, but I held his gaze. “Why would you keep those? Why would you keep that whip? Why do you torture yourself?”

He said nothing, he just stared at me with his cold expression. The silence dragged so long I could hear my own heartbeat.

“Was this what Fiorella meant?” I demanded. “Is this what she does for you that you couldn’t ask of me? Is this what you-

“Stop,” he cut in.

“No,” I snapped, standing up. “You don’t get to hide behind that tone right now. What the hell happened to you, Dainon?”

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