My lady remember Ch 5

Chapter 5 Stay Away From Him
Deborah didn’t want to provoke him. She was afraid of what he might do if he got truly angry—because she knew he’d do something she couldn’t handle. She didn’t doubt that for a second.
Damian was even more terrifying than the rumors. Not just cold and ruthless—he was utterly devoid of compassion. When he lost control, he didn’t care who got hurt.
She wondered, ‘How could someone so dangerous, so unhinged, exist in this world? And of all people, he has to be the brother Simon respected most…’
Treading carefully, Deborah lowered her voice in apology. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. I was wrong. Please forgive me. I swear, it won’t happen again.”
She had never been afraid of anyone in her life—but right now, she was genuinely afraid of him.
His hand still rested on her backside, fingers drumming lightly, almost idly—like he was deciding whether or not she deserved further punishment.
The carriage rolled on, and Deborah remained draped over his lap.
She felt like meat on a butcher’s block, waiting for someone else to decide her fate. The helplessness was suffocating.
After what felt like an eternity, Damian finally let her go.
Deborah immediately scrambled back to the farthest corner of the carriage, clutching at her clothes, trembling as she put herself back together.
Her eyes, wet with fear, were filled with panic and wariness.
The moment her robe was back in place, she made a break for it—but before she could reach the curtain, a hand yanked her back, sending her tumbling onto the cushions again.
“You really think you can run from me?” Damian sneered.
Deborah glared at him, anger bubbling up. “You—”
“What?” he cut her off, brows lifting. “Feeling wronged?”
She bit her lip, fists clenched at her sides. In the end, she swallowed her pride and held her tongue. “No. I was in the wrong.”
Damian shot her one final, dispassionate glance. Cold. Indifferent. Then, without another word, he pulled out a military strategy book and began flipping through the pages, as if she no longer existed.
So that was it. Everything he’d just done—it wasn’t about desire. It was punishment. Retribution for touching him, even by accident. Nothing more.
Deborah sat in silence, heart pounding with a mix of shame, confusion, and fear.
She thought, ‘This man is dangerously petty. The kind of person who never lets a slight go unpunished.’
She sat there in stunned silence, hoping—praying—that he was finished.
After a while, his voice broke the quiet, cold and sharp as ever. “If you ever try to seduce me again… I won’t be so lenient next time.”
Deborah didn’t respond. She lowered her head and stayed quiet.
She wondered, ‘What is the point in explaining? He won’t believe me anyway. I wished I would never see him again. Not for the rest of my life.’
Just as the carriage pulled up to the palace gates, neither of them had stepped down when a familiar voice of Amaris Montage rang out nearby.
“Look! It’s Simon! I haven’t spoken to him in ages—I’m going to say hi!”
“That’s Damian’s carriage,” Alistair Montage, said quickly.
“How could it be?” she frowned. “Even through the curtain, I could see two people inside. They were practically all over each other! If that wasn’t Simon and Deborah, then are you saying it was Damian with her?”
“Amaris, watch your mouth!” Alistair snapped.
He thought, ‘Is she insane? A scandal like that could ruin reputations—maybe even tear the royal family apart.’
“I know what I saw! Come with me—if you don’t believe me, we’ll go see for ourselves.”
And to Deborah’s horror, they actually started walking toward the carriage.
Her heart pounded as she looked toward Damian, panic in her eyes.
She hadn’t meant for things to get so out of control. But now Amaris had seen just enough to completely misunderstand the situation. She thought, ‘If the truth came out…’
If they found out it was him in the carriage with her, she’d be labeled a disgrace. A woman who’d seduced her husband’s older brother. Best case, she’d be disowned. Worst case… her entire family could be executed for treason.
“Simon!” Amaris’s voice drew closer, her pace quickening.
Deborah turned to Damian, silently pleading with her eyes.
But his face remained utterly blank, as if this had nothing to do with him.
Just as Amaris approached, and Deborah was frozen with no idea how to explain, Damian suddenly grabbed her wrist and yanked her toward him.
In one fluid motion, he flipped her beneath him, pinning her down.
“Your—!” She gasped. Her chest went cold—he’d pulled her robe open.
She instinctively struggled, but then she heard him murmur low in her ear, “Scream.”
Then he lowered his head, burying his face against her pale skin and drove forward without warning…