Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
With all of this in my mind, I’m over the moon.
I dress in my street clothes, grab my purse, and retrieve the ring and slide it back into place, a tightness in my chest knowing it’s a ring Damion bought for me years ago. I allow myself only a moment to stare at it on my finger, before me and my grumbling belly hurry toward the exit. Once I’m outside, I’m greeted by a burst of golden sunshine splaying warmth over the city, and me. With a hand up to block the glare, I’ve just spied a driver standing next to an SUV when Dierk intercepts me, stepping directly into my path.
“Alana.”
“Dierk,” I say, aware of the way he towers over me in his ridiculously expensive suit, effectively blocking my view of the vehicle.
“I’m glad I caught you. I wanted to thank you for the invitation to the show. My mother is beside herself, and even more so, that she gets to come with me to look at properties with you next month. She feels like a movie star.”
“I’m excited to meet her,” I say, “and thrilled to give her the star treatment. I owe her for wrangling you into doing this.”
“I’m glad she did as well.” His eyes narrow. “That invitation to dinner—”
“Was appreciated, but as I said—”
“You’re in a relationship,” he supplies, and there is skepticism in his voice. “You told me that information in an awkward way. Why?”
It’s a bold question, but my reply is fast and easy. “It’s a new thing that was an old thing. But it’s also a good thing.” I motion behind him and choose my words cautiously so as not to invite scandal. “I actually have a driver waiting on me for a scheduled lunch.”
He rotates just enough to bring the vehicle into his line of sight, and mine as well, and my breath hitches as I find Damion leaning on the SUV, his arms folded over his perfect chest, his chiseled jaw set hard in disapproval. Much like he did to my prom date, only Dierk is not the man in my life. Damion is, and he seems to be dead set on making that evident to Dierk.
Dierk’s attention returns sharply to me. “You’re seeing Damion West?”
I’m worried about Damion ending up all over the press because of me, and it somehow being used against him with his father. But with Damion standing there, staring at Dierk with a look that borders on downright violence, the message is clear. I am not to deny he’s my man. And I really don’t want to.
So I don’t. Not really. But just as he was protecting me with the car service, I have to protect him, too. “I’m having lunch with him to celebrate our renewal,” I reply.
“That’s not an answer.”
Dierk just won’t let this go, and I think of how I would feel if I were Damion. I would not want to be denied. “Yes,” I say. “I am. Nice to have you on the show, Dierk. See you next month.” I end the conversation by stepping around him and walking toward Damion.
There’s a predatory gleam in Damion’s gaze, his anger crackling off of him, the wicked sweep of his gaze up and down my body, as possessive as it is bold. There is familiar jealousy in his behavior. Damion made a habit most of our youth of acting as if I were his girlfriend but then latching onto another woman—a complicated habit I can’t say I didn’t cause. I pushed him away. I called him “friend” and stressed how much I didn’t want to lose our friendship. But this is not then, not even close, and his intensity is palpable.
I can feel Dierk at my back, watching us, and I don’t know why I thought departing our conversation first was a good idea. He wants what Shauna wants—the scoop on my love life—and dread fills me. I’m going to pull Damion into the spotlight, and he’s not that guy. What is he thinking, putting us on display as he is right here in this moment? He’s watching my every step, staring at me like he wants to gobble me up or lick me all over, and there’s no way anyone watching doesn’t know—Dierk included.
I certainly know.
I’m melting like butter right here on this New York City street, my mind aiding in my body’s seduction, replaying sexy moments, his hands and mouth on my body. Heat pools low in my belly, and my nipples pucker beneath my lacy bra. I’m an easy mark for the man who has been my fantasy all my life. I want him. I have always wanted him. Damion knows this, too, so I don’t know why he feels this display is necessary, and while I might be warm all over, I don’t like the head game it represents. Or that we are still in place after all these years to need to play them.