Lies We Bleed: A Rose for Damien

Rose dashed out of the suite, the tray gripped so tightly that her knuckles turned white. The sharp clack of her heels echoed down the hallway, each step louder than the last until she reached the first landing. She stopped there her chest heaving, heart racing,and fury pulsing behind her eyes. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, but it wasn't fear making her tremble.

It was rage.

The image of herself tangled in that man's lap refused to leave her mind. His annoying deep voice, his charming yet infuriating grin, his uncontrolled arrogance. It all churned like bile in her throat.

Damn him! How dare he touch her inappropriately! She belonged to only one man and that wasn't there anymore. Thus, no male had any right over her or her body, and she wasn't planning on giving it to any other person. She blamed herself for letting her guard down despite knowing the man had ill intentions. She was no fool not to see that.

If his phone hadn't buzzed on the table at that exact moment, pulling his attention away, she might still be up there, trapped under that smug hand, and hell knows what she would have done in a fit of anger. She could still feel the ghost of his fingers on her wrist. Her skin itched with disgust that she so much wanted to cut them off.

Rose leaned against the wall and exhaled hard. Her reflection in the chrome light panel beside her revealed flushed cheeks and narrowed eyes. Not the composed waitress everyone knew.

She clenched her jaw, clearing her mind up. She couldn't let that silk-shirted, and cologne-drenched womanizer get the best of her. Rose could tell from one look he was the type that used names as playthings and women as evening distractions. And now, she seemed to have piqued his interest. That wasn't supposed to happen, and it won't anymore.

"Probably some spoiled bastard with too much money and not enough conscience. He shouldn't find trouble with me," she muttered under her breath.

Straightening her skirt, Rose took another breath, and another, then her hands finally stilled.

With practiced ease, she adjusted the tray against her hip and began her descent back into the hum of Club Del Amore. Her steps were measured now, like usual, the noise from below swallowing her back into anonymity.

She returned behind the bar, set the empty tray aside, and poured another glass of wine for table seven like clockwork. Her smile was the same faint insincere curve as always, her voice smooth, quiet, and efficient, as if nothing had happened. To her, the matter had passed. She wouldn't see that womanizer again. Men like that came and went with the smoke and jazz.

***

On the other hand, back in the suite, the atmosphere was tense. The four young men sat around the low black table, waiting in silence for their fella who had stepped away to take a call.

Declan, who seemed to be the youngest of all, lounged sideways in his chair, one arm hanging over the backrest. He wore a dark green shirt, a few buttons undone, and black slacks. A silver chain peeked at his collarbone, catching the light when he shifted. He wore a grin that never quite reached his eyes, the kind of smile that suggested trouble.

"Who would have known that's his type?" Declan said with a calculative grin.

The man beside him, Reid, sat stiffly with his arms crossed over a fitted black T-shirt. Tattoos crawled up his muscled arms, and a slim snake tattoo coiled around the left side of his neck, its head disappearing beneath his hairline. His dark watch glinted on his wrist as he clenched his fist. Reid hardly smiled, and when he did, it looked like it hurt. His eyes were sharp, and his patience short.

The other two men, Enzo and Tristan, leaned back quietly in their seats.

Enzo wore a crisp white dress shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, showing a plain silver watch on his wrist. His dark hair was slicked neatly, and he carried an air of careful calculation, as though he noticed everything but chose when to speak. His gaze was cold, thoughtful, and he rarely wasted words.

Tristan, on the other hand, looked slightly younger than the others too, but a bit older than Declan. He wore a simple gray shirt and dark jeans, no jewelry except a black leather band on his wrist. His hair fell a little messier into his eyes. He was quieter, softer-spoken, often glancing between the others as though deciding where he belonged. But beneath that quietness, there was a spark of curiosity and a simmering edge.

The four of them, despite their differences, shared the same aura—a certain cool danger, like men who'd seen darkness and learned to live in it.

"But she's quite something," Declan continued, swirling his wine lazily. "Dangerously beautiful and daring. I can swear she was about to punch him if it wasn't for that phone call. Does she even know he's her employer? I bet not. Else she would have sucked up to him or even thrown herself at him."

"Does it pain you to shut up for a second?" Reid snapped, glaring at him.

"Yes, it does." Declan couldn't stop ranting. "So, you shut up and listen, Reid."

Reid shook his head and decided to ignore Declan. He knew better than to start an argument with him.

After about five minutes of enduring Declan's endless talking, Reid finally lost patience. He shoved an ice cube into Declan's mouth to shut him up.

"Next will be a bullet if you open that fucking mouth of yours," Reid warned, his voice flat as stone.

Declan's face went red with anger as he spat the ice cube onto the floor. He didn't take Reid's warning seriously and was about to lash out when a voice cut across the room.

"Cut it out, Declan."

The man who had been the genesis of all chaos had just returned from his call. He slipped his phone into his pocket and fixed Declan with a look that made even Declan's grin fade for a moment.

"What now?" Deckan sighed in resignment.

"You talk too much and like to stir chaos, mostly for your own amusement. Reid isn't going to entertain you nonsense, you know that." The man said as he took an empty seat, now facing all of them.

Declan scoffed and leaned the back of his head on the sofa, then slow glanced at Reid.

"And I'm not about to entertain his nonsense either," he retorted and looked back to the man in front.

"Who is she, Damien?" A soft yet firm voice enquired. It was Tristan. All the eyes were on him but he only gazed at his drink for a while, before slowly rising up to look at the man in front, Damien.

"Ooh, I thought I was the only nosy fella here," Declan's annoying voice came by, followed by a mocking laughter.

No one paid attention to him as they all focused on Damien, waiting for an answer. Even if they didn't say it, they were equally curious as to who that lady was to provoke Damien. Not just provoking, she was able to make Damien touch her,the man whom they all believed had no interest in women. For years now, he had been seen with a woman let alone touching one. So, they were all inquisitive.

"Just someone I met," Damien plainly replied.

"It didn't look like that. So, she was the new waitress whom you said would replace the other one, right?" Declan couldn't let it slide with just a simple 'someone I met.' He was sure the lady was more than that.

"Mn."

Declan leaned in closer, eager to pry into his brother's love life. "And?"

Reid hissed and grabbed Declan by his hair and pulled him back aggressively, making his head land below his chest.

"Shut up!"

Declan tried to pull himself away but couldn't because he cared a lot for his beautiful hair and didn't want to be made bald. After a short while of struggle, he gave up and just quietly laid on Reid's chest.

"Is she the one?" Enzo who had been quiet all this while asked.

Damien just smirked and crossed his leg over the other, while holding a glass of wine in his hand.

"I don't know, but her eyes..." A quick flashback occurred in front of his eyes, as he recalled Rose's eyes. They were gray, mixed with a soft green that made them all the more striking. "They look similar."

"You assigned her here to confirm if she's the person you've been looking for, right?" Enzo enquired with a calm and unreadable expression.

Damien nodded with a smile.

"Bro, you've only met her once and that was like two years ago. You said you only saw her eyes, so how can you recognise her after so long. I advice you to just give up before you drag us all into your shitty... Goddammit, Reid! Put me down! Put me down you jerk."

Declan screamed as Reid shoved him onto his shoulder and walked away with him put of the suite with a word of goodbye or anything.

"Be careful," Tristan warned Damien.

Damien didn't reply to him and he gulped down the entire wine. He then stared into his glass, replaying the glint of green in her eyes countlessly. It had haunted him for years.

***

"She was just a stranger... until she became my obsession."