Chapter 5: Tragedy

[Cara]

The food in this restaurant is supposed to be world-class. Known for its exquisite cuisine made by renowned chefs. Nevertheless, my perfectly served medium rare Wagyu steak seemed to have wedge my throat uncomfortably as I couldn’t chew it properly. Too conscious of the pair of black eyes fixated on every move I take, unbashful at that.

“So, Mr. Montreal. How long have you been staying here in Manhattan?”

With an air of nonchalance, I picked up my bubbling champagne and gracefully took a sip. Forcing down the meat lodging my esophagus while darting Mr. Montreal—Damon should I say—a quick glance through the rim of my glass as his attention had shifted to my dad. This time, my turn to stare at him and study his countenance.

We settled around a circular table good for four people. While mom and dad were facing each other, Damon sat directly across from me.

“More than a decade now,” he answered. “But I’ve been traveling more often from here to France for my other kind of business. My country of origin.”

One of my brows quirk promptly at the new information I learned, trying to pick out his French accent but I could hardly detect any. It’s either he’s lying or that living in New York for a decade completely eradicate his mother tongue intonation. Now, I wonder what he would sound like speaking when in French.

His too-familiar presence is scratching the surface of my brain, making me want to crack my skull in half and scraped it with a knife. 

I hate it. 

Absolutely detesting the sense of anonymity that he is providing me. I don’t know why I badly wanted him to be my phantom. Maybe because I was so desperate in finding out the man behind the mask. Both my phantom and Damon’s aura scream at me with dominance. Taunting and playing me with all of the smoldering gazes he was throwing my way and the subtle smirk lifting his luscious lips every time our eyes met.

I already hate him for that.

Why do they have this uncanny resemblance?

“Oh, so you came from a romantic place,” Mom chimed in, whipping her attention to me with a creepy wide stretched smile pasted on her face like the Cheshire cat. I could have been blinded by all her pearly white veneer crowns showing off. “My darling Cara, isn’t it France is one of your favorite places to visit?”

“Only when I attend fashion week, mom,” I replied trying to sound uninterested just to hide the tension in my voice as I set down my glass of champagne and gave more attention to my steak. 

Hoping that I could somehow divert my mind into how many pieces I can cut the meat in bite-size rather than thinking how Damon would look like without his perfectly tailored tuxedo he wore now and whether or not he had those killer abs most women would die for, including myself. Just like my phantom.

Damn it! Where the hell did that thought come from?

However, mom cleared her throat, snatching whatever plan I concocted in mind before I could pick up my fork and knife again.

“But still, you’ve been there multiple times already, so it must be one of your favorites, right?” She insisted, giving me the look most mothers give to their children whenever they want them to behave a certain way that would please them.

When she doesn’t get a response from me, the slight kick she gave my leg underneath the table was the second warning.

“Right,” I muttered quickly, putting on a little enthusiasm to it.

I love my mom. 

I reminded myself, but there are times when I feel like I should just disown myself for being her daughter. A fleeting look of amusement crossed Damon’s face upon noticing the not-so-discreet coercion my mom was giving me.

“Did I already mention that Mr. Montreal is the chief executive of Sphinx Prime Incorporation? Isn’t that amazing?”

“Really?” That blurted out unsophisticatedly and this time, I wasn’t feigning my surprise. Thankfully, I have already put down my drink, otherwise, my mouth could have turned into a shower head spraying champagne.

Fuck! How long do I have to humiliate myself throughout this dinner?

Flabbergasted was an understatement.

Sphinx Prime is now the leading company in electronic technology advancement. If I am not mistaken, they are the first to create AI systems installed in most mobile phone and computer brands worldwide, mine in inclusion. 

If Damon is the CEO, then fuck me. He might as well bribe Satan with his money and take over hell to rule for himself. Probably still, there would have extra left in his account that could buy my soul as well.

Damn rich bastard.

No wonder why his name sounded so familiar.

I was still wide in shock, speechless as he casually takes pride in my reaction and continue the conversation with my mom. 

“You flatter me, Mrs. Davidsons.”

Mom giggled, taking the napkin from her lap and dabbing it on her lips. “Please kindly dispense the formality, just call me Felicity.”

I on the other hand collected my bearing not to make a fool out of myself and go through the motions of nonchalance. Even though all I wanted is to depart from this place and go back to my condo. Tuck myself to bed and wait for my phantom to come.

“We are very glad you accepted our dinner invitation, Mr. Montreal.” My dad chimed in, taking a sip of his red wine as he was done with his food already.

“You gave me a generous offer that is hard to decline, Mr. Davidson.”

The hair on my arms pricks over my skin again when he glances in my direction all the while saying the last part. As if to covertly relay a hint what kind of offer my dad gave him so generously.

I prayed fervently for this night to be over with. I don’t think I could hold on much longer listening excruciatingly to all the underlying statements exchanged during most of their conversation. As if I am not the point on this matter.

My parents wanted to sell me off to the highest bidder. Apparently, Damon outbids all other predecessors they had set me up before.

Sometimes, I felt like a fine breed of cattle being sold off at an auction. It’s quite tiring actually, but duty came first for my family, and being the only child they ever had, all that kind of responsibility falls heavily into my shoulders.

My gaze flick to the imposing man right across me. If he is the one my parents would choose for me, then I guess luck might have frowned upon my fate this time. I mean, yes, he’s damn loaded with money and it should be a sin for him to be this handsome and hot all at the same time.

Which an additional bonus, I must say.

But his dark aura creeps the heebie-jeebies out of me.

Moreover, how will I ever take any husband in the future if I have a stalker prowling around the corner? Visiting me every night and do things with my body I very much love.

God, this is so confusing.

I tried not to glum at the thought of it and pretended that I am enjoying the night with casual nods and smiles whenever their attention goes to me.

However, the placid ambiance and the classical music in the background were suddenly disrupted when the floor-to-ceiling window glass right next to our table shattered. Thousands of shards racketed in all directions, and as if time had slowed down. Something flew past above my ear, leaving a hot trail of air in its wake. Right before I could blink. A hole drilled straight into the middle of my dad’s forehead.

A petrified ear-splitting scream peeled my mom’s throat. I, on the other hand, was too stunned to move.

“Fuck! Cara get down!”

My mind went completely blank, not able to process what just happened or that hear Damon’s roaring voice. A wall of muscle suddenly slammed into my body, arms ducking my head down protectively and tackling me into the floor. A series of gunshots erupted in the background, deafening my hearing and swallowing the frantic screams from the crowd.

Hence, my gaze fell solely to dad who still perched in his chair, unmoving. His head hung low, eyes still wide open, glassy, and blood trickling down the bridge of his nose.

He’s dead.

My brain finally chanted a horrifying truth and sent chills down my spine.

My dad is dead.

Assassinated right before my eyes.