Damien lay on his bed, one arm folded behind his head, the other lazily holding his phone above him. The screen's glow cast a dim halo over his face in the darkened room, the faint hum of evening silence wrapping around him like a second blanket.
"Heh…" he breathed, that smirk tugging at the corner of his lips again.
The screen still showed the last message—Victoria's furious barrage of insults, followed by his reply.
She'd contacted him.
On her own.
He tapped the edge of the phone once, thoughtful. That was all it took. A whisper here, a glance there. Not even a push. Just… suggestion. Insecurity. Doubt.
And now she was spiraling.
He tilted his head slightly, eyes half-lidded.
Damien's smirk lingered as he tossed the phone onto his chest, the glow from the screen still echoing Victoria's rage in his periphery.
Ah, Langley.
So damn easy to provoke, yet too proud to retreat.
That made her quite…. Entertaining.
