Chapter 10 - The Sovereign Queen
Grant hung suspended against the wall, his legs kicking uselessly, his face turning purple as Damon's grip tightened around his windpipe.
"You came into my home," Damon whispered, his voice sounding like grinding stone. "You brought guns into a room where my woman was standing."
"P-please..." Grant choked out, his eyes rolling back in his head. "Damon... don't..."
I stepped out from behind the mahogany desk, walking slowly across the smoke-filled room, stopping beside Damon.
I looked at the man who had terrorized my mother and me for twelve years. He looked so small, so pathetic, so utterly powerless.
"He's not worth going to prison for, Damon," I said softly, resting my hand against Damon's broad back. "Let the law finish him."
Damon turned his head, his dark eyes meeting mine through the red emergency lighting. The wild, murderous fire in his gaze softened the moment he looked at me.
Damon dropped Grant onto the concrete floor like a sack of trash.
Ten seconds later, the private elevator doors opened, and Marco stepped out with twenty heavily armed Vance security guards, taking control of the penthouse in seconds.
"Clean this up, Marco," Damon ordered flatly, wiping a streak of dust from his forehead. "And make sure the Jersey syndicate understands that if another one of their men steps foot in Manhattan, I will personally burn their harbor facilities to the ground."
"Understood, Boss," Marco replied, dragging the unconscious Grant away once and for all.
Damon turned to face me. He took two steps forward, framing my face with his large, warm hands, his thumbs gently wiping away a trace of soot near my eyebrow.
"Are you hurt, Maya?" he asked, his voice trembling with raw, unspoken emotion.
"I'm completely fine, Damon," I whispered, reaching up to lay my hands over his. "Because you protected me."
Damon looked deeply into my eyes, his intense gaze holding a passion so profound it made my breath hitch in my throat.
"I'm done hiding how I feel, Maya," Damon murmured, his face descending slowly toward mine. "I didn't just save you at Élan because I hated Grant. I saved you because from the second I saw you standing up to him... I knew you were the only woman who belonged beside me."
"I knew it too," I breathed against his lips. "The moment you put your hand over his."
Damon pulled me against his chest and kissed me—a deep, fiery, possessive kiss that claimed my heart, my soul, and my future forever.
Six months later.
The sun shone brightly over the private harbor in Manhattan as the grand new flagship vessel of Vance Logistics was launched into the Hudson River.
Over five hundred guests filled the harbor terrace—politicians, international CEOs, and high-ranking business leaders.
I stood on the main stage, wearing a magnificent royal-blue silk dress, a sparkling diamond ring gleaming on my left hand. Beside me stood my mother, glowing with health and happiness, holding a glass of champagne.
And standing beside me, his long fingers wrapped possessively around my waist, holding me close against his side, was Damon Vance.
The crowd applauded as the champagne bottle smashed against the bow of the ship.
Damon leaned down, his warm lips brushing against my ear, his deep voice sending a wave of utter happiness through my entire body.
"Look at them, Mrs. Vance," Damon whispered softly. "Not a single person in this city will ever try to hurt you again."
May you like
I looked out over the sparkling river, then up into the dark, loving eyes of the mafia Don who had rescued me from the dark.
"I know," I smiled, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "Because I'm married to the man who makes the whole world let go."
