Femme Fatale: The King's Deadly Temptress

Chapter 339: For Katherine

Knowing that his men thought that they were 'babysitting' Katherine, Damien should be pissed and if it were any other day, he definitely wouldn't have taken that remark lightly. Who dared to insult his woman?

But because it was one of his protégés, Allen, he let it slide and chose to be amused instead as he was sure that they would be proved wrong when the time comes. How ridiculous to think that Katherine was a charge. Yes, he loves her—and yes, he worries for her—and maybe if it was before, he would probably think of her as one too — all because he just wanted her to be safe. However, it was different now. Learning about her capabilities and skills, he admired and acknowledged them. Therefore, he was determined to treat her as an equal.josei

Katherine may be vulnerable at times, but Damien knew better than to underestimate her. Treating her like a child who needs protection would only drive her away from him and that was the last thing that he wanted to happen.

Inside a black BMW sedan, Damien sat at the backseat of the luxury car while they were on their way to meet the person that he needed to meet. It had been years since he last saw him and if not because he needed something, he wouldn't go out of his way and meet this guy. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, conditioning himself to be ready for when he sees him face to face after so many years.

The black sedan turned around a corner of a street that was thirty minutes away from the city proper. The street wasn't crowded and it was somewhat a little gray—as if it had no life, very rare did Damien find himself in places like this as it looked a bit shady. When the car came to a full stop, Allen informed, "Boss, we're here."

Damien's jaw clenched at the same time that he almost wished he didn't have to do this. 'For Katherine,' he reminded himself before opening his eyes and exiting the car. 

The month of November was getting colder even at three in the afternoon. His black trench coat that covered over his casual T-shirt and jeans fluttered when the wind blew past him. He walked straight towards a vintage metal door, opened it without knocking and he let himself in while a few of his men followed him inside.

"Where is he?" Damien asked when an old man in his late sixties came to greet him and then he took in the empty thirty square-meter entryway. The old man reminded him of Batman's butler, Alfred Pennyworth, as he was always dressed in a suit, had gray hair and almost always had a stoic expression. 

"Chairman Park, Master is ready to see you. Alone," the old man said, bowing his head and gesturing his hand to the side.

Damien followed the old man's direction which led him towards the basement. His men started to follow him but he turned and ordered them, "You can stay here," and he headed downstairs before any of them could protest leaving him unprotected. 

His men disliked not knowing what was going on as they wouldn't know how to protect their boss if the need arises. But they could only follow orders and when Damien gave them the address of where they were headed to earlier without knowing who they were going to visit, they could only hope that it was safe. Now they couldn't do anything else but wait for when their Boss comes back up.

Damien took the spiral stairs that lead to the basement and found himself walking past heavy rolls of different types of cloths on the side before stepping into a large space that's covered with plastic drop cloths. The walls, some chairs or furniture were all covered with a plastic drop cloth. The sight of it made him roll his neck.

His footsteps were light even when the soles of his shoes stepped on the plastic. They were negligible and drowned by the sound of Johann Sebastian Bach's violin piece in the background. Scanning the entire room, he didn't see anyone until he heard a crumpling noise from the left. Damien turned his head and saw a man with long blond hair and black roots that fell past his shoulders. 

"Take off your coat," the long-haired man said without looking up. His cheekbones were high and his jaw was well-defined. He was so concentrated in the object in front of him.

"I'm not here to be your subject," Damien responded, ignoring the other's command and continued to stroll towards him.

"Stop." The man turned his head to Damien, the corners of his mouth pulling up as he took in Damien's appearance. There was a marvel in his eyes and his smile made him even more handsome than he already was without it. "You're here for a favor. So you're doing it on my terms. Take off your coat and hang it on that rack." His chin nodded towards the clothing rack near the wall.

Reluctantly, Damien took off his coat and hung it like he was told. 'For Katherine,' he reminded himself again.

"Good. See? That wasn't so hard. Now sit over there." The man pointed towards a red love couch in the middle of the huge room.

"Wallace," Damien muttered his name under gritted teeth.

"Damien," Wallace spoke with a teasing tone. "It's been seven years. Just do it."

Huffing, Damien took a deep breath and sauntered towards the red couch, hoping that it was clean and no one naked had sat there before him. "This is clean, right?"

"I rubbed myself all over it while I was butt naked before you got here." Wallace's voice was toneless but the corner of his mouth curled up into a lopsided grin upon seeing Damien's fierce glare. "It's clean. I just bought it."

Damien was relieved but the image of naked Wallace White was now in his head. "Asshole," he mumbled under his breath before lowering himself onto the couch.

"You look good. As always. Are you married yet?" Wallace asked as he glanced at Damien before lifting the brush in his hand and drawing strokes on the canvas in front of him. His movement was so graceful, it matched so beautifully with Bach's baroque music.

Damien stared at Wallace White, an artist who could most definitely pass as a model and he wondered what the man saw in him. Alianna's voice rang in his head, "Damien's lover boy", making him shiver. He wasn't homophobic but he wasn't into men. So his cousin's words caused his brows to furrow. He didn't hate Wallace too—as long as the man kept his hands to himself, then it was okay. 

He didn't know about Wallace's sexual orientation the first time they met at a party years ago. And when he noticed that the other was a bit too touchy for his liking, that's when he started to wonder. Wallace's slightly queer personality was what made him unique and loved by his fans and Damien admired his works too but that's it.

"Relax your pretty face," Wallace commented.

"How long is this going to take?" Damien's question sounded more like a complaint but Wallace didn't take it as an insult and even laughed.

"If you stop complaining, we'll be done in no time. Now come on, tell me what you've been up to lately." Wallace dabbed his brush onto the tray in his hand and took his time with his work, a gorgeous smile plastered on his lips as he did.

'For Katherine,' another reminder chimed in Damien's head as he slowly released a long exhale. He never thought he would ever find himself getting painted again by Wallace White and he swore this was going to be the last.