Chapter 86: Monster Behind An Angelic Face

Chapter 86: Monster Behind An Angelic Face –Sophia– Livana? A woman with an angelic face hiding a monstrous attitude beneath. I’ve heard Damon treats her like a goddess. Lucky. So damn lucky. But let’s be honest—it wasn’t luck. It was her face, her intelligence, and her ability to manipulate a room with a single glance. Now? Deanne—Miss Faux, as we love to call her—had a private meeting with the House Speaker. Probably about defense talks and political bullshit. We need America’s backup power, sure, but that doesn’t mean we’ll let them use us like puppets. Not on Livana’s watch. I know my boss—she doesn’t let anyone take advantage of her. Just look at her now. She’s got the man she wanted, using him however she pleases. And him? Damon’s obsessed. Always has been. It’s a win-win, I suppose—if obsession counts as victory. "Phia," Francis called, his voice smooth, like honey over ice. I turned to face those ocean-deep eyes of his. Fantasy eyes. Dangerous eyes. I should be over him by now. Should. "Let’s go?" he asked. "Where?" I asked, my eyes still on my phone. "Outside. To eat." I raised a brow. "How about takeout?" "Get your lazy ass up," he muttered. "It’s fine," Kai chimed in, strolling toward me like a human freight train. Before I could react, he scooped me up and tossed me over his shoulder like I was nothing more than a sack of flour. Blood rushed to my head. "Hey! Put me down!" "We’re eating outside." I groaned, smacking his firm ass as he laughed like a boy on spring break. "Come on, Kai. I said put me down." He did—right in front of the car. I stumbled slightly, dizzy, and swung a punch at his smug face. He dodged with ease. "I almost scratched that pretty face of yours," I muttered, glaring as I slid into the backseat. Francis took the wheel, Kai up front with him. Still laughing. I rolled my eyes so hard I saw my brain. My phone buzzed. I glanced down—and froze. White King: The Vice-President is getting on my nerves. I think we need to send him a message. I want fireworks in his favorite car. "Fuck," I whispered as the message auto-deleted. A monster. That’s what she is. But... I had to agree. That Vice-President—the one secretly helping the sex traffickers—was crossing every line imaginable. He kept trying to drag our Empire into his filthy empire of flesh. Worse? He had a twisted obsession with virgins—raping the girls his men "gifted" him like he was some perverse king. A disgusting pig, hiding behind his polished title and fake patriotism. My boss? She hated that. We don’t deal in flesh. We sell equipment—rare, elite-level tech. Specialized software. Discreet devices. Our side businesses? Upscale hotels. Luxury lounges tailored for high-end assassins. Nothing messy. Nothing human. "What is it?" Kai asked, glancing at me through the mirror. "I’ve got work later tonight," I sighed, slipping my phone into my pocket. "And what kind of work?" Kai asked, eyeing me with that usual suspicion. "I need fireworks," I said with a grin. In the rearview mirror, I caught Francis’s brow twitch with concern. "I’ll need a place to buy them," I added, still smirking. Francis finally spoke, voice low. "We can’t afford to get tracked. We’ll have to get them discreetly." "Exactly," I said, crossing my legs and leaning back. "No names. No trails. Just a little spark... to send a message." –Livana– I leaned back in the jacuzzi tub nestled beside the pool, basking in the soft ripples and distant chatter of another party. The champagne flowed, the music played, and everyone now knew about Laura’s pregnancy. She couldn’t hide it anymore. Her baby bump seemed to grow by the day. She was glowing—radiant and jolly, blooming like spring. "What do you want me to do then?" Damon’s cold voice sliced through the air. "Get rid of that mutt." He hung up, sounding utterly exasperated. I scoffed and shook my head. "What are you scoffing at, my wife?" he drawled as he slid beside me. "Last night you sounded like a tyrant. We had sex, and now you’re declaring war?" He wrapped his arms around me lazily. "Sex?" I murmured, voice like silk. "It’s just a pastime. And you know very well, Damon, that you have to remain useful to me." He chuckled, unfazed, as his fingers trailed up to caress the back of my neck. I rested my head against his arm and closed my eyes. Peaceful. Until his phone rang again. His deep voice rumbled through his chest. "Kai," he muttered. "What do you mean?" Even from here, I could make out Kai’s voice—low, urgent. I thought I heard him say Sophia. "Babe..." Damon turned his head slightly. "Did Sophia just put fireworks in a car?" I hummed softly. "I mean... literally set a vintage car on fire with fireworks?" That made me laugh. My stomach tightened as I doubled over, the image far too vivid. Sophia... Damn her. Direct, as always. A vibration on the stone edge beside me drew my attention. My phone. I tapped Damon lightly. "Phone." He picked it up with a towel and handed it over. I wiped my hands before standing, bracing my hand on his shoulder and straddling his lap to lift myself above the bubbling foam. I swiped without even looking at the screen—just in time to hear the sharp whistling shriek of fireworks, followed by a thunderous explosion. "What kind of car was it?" I asked lazily, still smiling. "That was a 1967 Ferrari 275," he said just as another explosion rang out. "Oh, fuck. That costs a fortune." "I know, right?" I giggled, leaning back against him. He pulled me closer, his chin resting over my shoulder, his breath hot against my skin. I felt the press of his arousal beneath me. If we were alone in this space, I knew exactly what he’d do. He liked it raw—exposed and outdoors. Then came the sharp flash of light nearby, followed by the mechanical click of a shutter. "What was that?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "That’s just Alyssa," he murmured, lips brushing my nape. "Taking photos." His hand slid lower, slipping between my thighs, his fingers rubbing gently over the damp fabric that covered my most sensitive spot. My breath caught. I nudged him with a warning look, but he only grinned—unchallenged, unbothered. Typical. Delicious. Once alone in the bedroom, I slipped into silk sheets and played the footage. The vintage car sat innocently in the driveway—until it didn’t. Fireworks lit from within, sparks kissing the leather interior before the explosion engulfed it in a spectacular bloom of fire. It was everywhere—breaking news, online headlines, political whispers. The Vice President of the United States was furious, spitting allegations that someone wanted him dead. He wasn’t wrong. I was one of them. He was a disgusting bastard—corrupt, arrogant, and addicted to power in all the wrong places. "Wifey!" Damon’s voice called from the hallway. I heard the door creak open. "I bought snacks. Chef Wally has been working nonstop." "Mm, I already gave him and his team a bonus," I said with a yawn, rolling lazily on the bed, stretching like a satisfied feline. "Hoping for another round today," he teased. "All we’ve done is swim and eat... no sex yet." I turned my head to face him, gaze flat and deliberate. "Hmm. We haven’t even napped yet." He looked genuinely disappointed as he set the tray down on the table. I smirked faintly, then flipped onto my stomach, elbows propped up as I typed on my phone. I needed to keep Sophia entertained. I lived for the chaos she caused—especially when it rattled Francis and Kai. They were always on edge when she was in her element. Just how I liked it. A call buzzed in—Miss Faux. I frowned slightly, curious, and answered without changing position, my feet kicking lazily behind me. "Hello, gorgeous," I purred. "My queen," she replied, her voice sultry and smooth. "I spoke to the President. He agreed to the setup. He’ll also order them to stop sending agents from Virginia." "Hmm." "And," she paused, tone velvet and edged with amusement, "I just received an alert... about the Vice President’s favorite car." "Oh," I sounded empathetic. "What happened?" "The car exploded after setting off fireworks explosives." "Hmm, call our men. I think it is Cristoff?" "Yes," I confirmed. "He loves crafting those miniature cars. Ask him to build an exact replica of the Vice President’s Ferrari. Every detail, down to the stitching on the seats. A gift." "Certainly, my queen. I’ll make sure the gesture is delivered... tastefully." I giggled, lips curling. "Stay sexy and dangerous, Miss Faux. I’ll see you soon." Her laugh was the last thing I heard before the line disconnected. Damon grabbed my ankles and gave my butt a firm smack. I gasped, rolling my eyes as I turned over to glare at him. "No one’s sexier than my wife," he growled, tugging me closer. "Now lift that perfect ass up. I want to ram you the way you always beg for." I laughed, kicking at him playfully. He dodged, grinning like a wolf. Damn this man. My ice breaker. My indulgent distraction.