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)
There’s also no time to talk about this with Damion, as we’re met by a tall, dark, and deadly-looking man in an expensive suit; he’s accented with an earpiece. I’d label him as security, but his suit isn’t just expensive—it’s as expensive as Damion’s. The man greets me with an incline of his chin. “Ms. Blue, I’m Adam. Nice to meet you.”
“Hi,” I say, confused and waiting for more information that doesn’t follow.
Instead, he and Damion share a look, and there’s a familiarity to their greeting that tells me these two are no strangers, and I’m being excluded from some invisible circle of knowledge. I eye the earpiece again, and Adam’s towering height, his athletic build, and shark attention and concern fills me. He’s a bodyguard, and there’s a threat against Damion that requires Adam’s presence, and it’s downright unsettling.
Adam motions us down the hallway to the left and ultimately to a private elevator bank.
Once we’re outside the one steel door and it’s opened, Damion’s hand settles on my lower back, urging me forward, and I step into the rather compact compartment. He follows, and when Adam joins us, his big body eating up considerable space, Damion responds by layering us up—stepping behind me, his hand pressed to my belly, my backside nestling his front. It’s as if he’s decided the entire world needs to know we’re together, and, at present, I have a love/hate relationship with that concept.
Adam punches the button for the top level of the building, where the restaurant’s legendary view and food will welcome us. The floors tick by rather slowly, and it’s all I can do not to whirl on Damion and demand answers. What was that back there with Dierk? Who the heck is Adam, and why is he with us in this elevator?
Damion’s fingers splay on my belly, almost as if he’s warning me to wait, and the press of his flesh to mine is an unbidden distraction, conjuring images of us naked together only a few hours before. My nipples tingle and pucker, and my entire body trembles ever so slightly—so slightly no one would know, but he notices. I know Damion notices. I can feel the male satisfaction in him. He likes his power over me to stir this reaction at a time when we least want to have one.
But nothing he has done changes anything.
I’m still angry with him.
The elevator halts and opens, and Adam exits to allow ease of our departure. When I go to move, Damion’s fingers once again flex where they hold me, a silent rejection of my escape, a reminder that we’re being watched. I twist around and meet his stare, a burn in the depth of his I feel low in my belly.
“I’ll explain,” he promises, twining his fingers with mine before he lifts his chin toward the door.
The air between us crackles and snaps.
I want to hit him and kiss him and so many things, but all I do is nod, rotate, and exit the elevator with him on my heels and still holding onto me. We’re greeted by a fifty-something woman with bouncy, red chin-length hair, her apron fitted snugly to a generous bosom. “Welcome, Mr. West and Ms. Blue.” She motions to our left. “This way to your private dining space.”
I glance at Damion, and I’m not surprised to find a dark, guarded look on his handsome face. It hits me then that he told me he wants to talk, and I’m starting to recognize a pattern in him. When there’s something he’s done that he knows displeases me or he dreads me knowing, he overcompensates for the negative. As he did by announcing our living arrangement to the guard as a show of his commitment. And perhaps today, with outward affection and a luxurious meal.
We’re now following the redhead down the hallway, and I’m remembering the way he’d paid off my father’s five-figure debt when we were only eighteen.
I’d been furious because of the timing. I’d just slept with him for the first time ever, after years apart from him, and I’d woken to a note, just a note. Damion had gone, leaving the country per his message, but he’d overheard a phone call between me and my mother. He’d figured out that my father owed money to gambling sharks. He’d gone on in the goodbye letter to inform me he’d paid off the debt. I’d been embarrassed, ashamed. Indebted to him. Even more so, I’d felt like he’d paid me for my services.
I felt like a hooker.
But with all I know now, it feels like so much more.
I’d thought he’d wanted to drive me away. And maybe that’s true, but I think it might be a little more complicated than it seemed. There were a lot of ways he could have driven me away, and most of them didn’t cost him five figures.