By the time I reached the lounge, Ference was waiting, steady as stone.
“Mr. Miller is in his office,” he said.
I nodded mutely and drifted to the bar, Ference shadowing me.
Damian would never belong only to me.
I would never be enough.
I would never fit his world.
Luisa’s poison coiled tighter. The pain was unbearable, raw.
I downed the drink in front of me, the burn tearing down my throat. It felt good. Real.
I ordered two more. Ference lingered, watching, concern etched in his silence.
The longer Damian stayed away, the more I drowned. I lifted the next glass with numb fingers, but before I could drink, a hand stopped me cold.
Ference’s grip closed over the glass, steady and unyielding.
“That’s enough, Miss Daisy.” His voice was low, calm, but iron-hard.
I stared at him through glassy eyes. “Let me,” I mumbled, pulling weakly against his hand. But Ference didn’t move.
With quiet patience, he pressed the glass back down, his eyes locked on mine. “Enough,” he repeated, laying a firm hand on my shoulder. “I won’t watch you destroy yourself. Not while I’m on duty.”
Myfingers slackened around the glass, hesitating. His presence radiated authority, his resolve unshakable. Reluctantly, I let it go. The haze of alcohol lifted just enough for me to feel the weight of his gaze—and for the first time that night, I stopped.
“You have to stop.”
“Why? What does it matter?”
Ference sighed and pulled me to my feet. “Come on. I’ll get you out of here and to Mr. Miller’s home.”
I resisted for a moment, but I was too drunk to fight. When I tried to stand, dizziness crashed over me, and I stumbled into Ference’s arms. He caught me at the waist and steered me toward the limousine.
Outside, in front of the club, he reached for his phone. “I’ll inform Mr. Miller.”
“Don’t bother, Ference,” I called out. “He surely already has company.”
Moments later, the club doors burst open and Damian stormed out. His expression was cool and controlled, but I caught the flicker of concern in his eyes.
“What happened?” he asked sharply.
“Go fuck that Luisa, like you did a few days ago!” I shouted from inside the car.
Damian and Ference exchanged a look. Damian cursed, then slammed the car door shut. “Take her to my place. Ference, ride with her.”
Ference slid in beside me, silent, his concern evident. “I’m sorry, Miss Elfhorn, that you always lose yourself like this. I would give my life for Mr. Miller, but I am sorry for you.”
I stared at the floor of the limousine, my voice barely audible. “Thank you, Ference.” Tears spilled down my face. He shifted closer and handed me a tissue. I buried my face in my hands and wept. His arm settled around me, steady and protective—a quiet shield in the storm.
The ride to Damian’s apartment passed in silence, city lights flickering through the windows. Ference’s steadiness gave me a fragile sliver of comfort.
When we arrived, only a faint dizziness reminded me of the alcohol. Ference stayed close as we moved toward the elevators.
“Miss Daisy.”
