Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
I can’t deny that it looks a lot like him, but I’m not ready to concede the point. “There’s a passing resemblance, but this photo is twenty years old.” I stare at the photo until my eyes begin to blur, certain there’s an explanation that has nothing at all to do with Damien. “His name is Mike.” Sounds lame even to my own ears.
“Mike, my ass.” There’s a look in his eyes I don’t like.
But none of this makes sense. That can’t be Damien. He’s never mentioned anything about being in foster care after his parents died. “I don’t know Damien’s middle name. I don’t even know if he has one.” I know there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for this coincidence.
“Maybe not now. Damien Wolfe is a very rich man, and he might want to make sure there’s enough distance between him and his past.” Jay shakes his head. “Be smart, Frankie. If this were someone else, you’d shake the shit out of them to at least get them to consider this is a possibility.”
He snatches the photo from my hand and sticks a thumbtack right through the forehead.
There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for this. I know there is.
And I’m going to figure out what the fuck it is.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Damien
I pride myself on my ability to read people. There’s no way I’d have survived the cutthroat world of business if I couldn’t. But something is up with Francesca.
She’s hiding the fact that something is bothering her, but not good enough to fool me. I know her. I know the exact sound she makes after her first sip of coffee. The way her eyes light up when she sees me. The way she worries her bottom lip when she’s deep in thought.
Something is definitely going on with her. But tonight is all about us. It’s another night of romance and I don’t want to ruin it by flat out asking her what’s going on. “You look beautiful tonight, Francesca.”
Her eyes refocus as if she was a million miles away from the upscale seaside restaurant in Malibu. A beautiful smile lights up her face, but it doesn’t quite make it up to her eyes. “Thanks. You always look great.”
“It’s still nice to hear.” I run a playful hand down one side of hair, smiling and batting my eyelashes.
The move draws a laugh from her, but it doesn’t stay for long. “You look very handsome tonight, Damien.”
Our wine arrives and her mood is fucking up my plans to move things forward. On my terms. “Is something on your mind, Francesca?” I shouldn’t ask but dammit how can I sit here and pretend as if I can’t see that something is clearly bothering her?
“What?” Her brows dip and she shakes her head. “Nothing.”
I reach for my wineglass and take a slow sip, giving her enough time to reconsider. “Nothing,” I repeat the word, and it’s bitter on my tongue. “I didn’t realize we’ve reached the stage in our relationship where we lie to each other.”
“I’m not lying,” she snaps.
“You are. Tell me you don’t want to talk about it. Tell me to mind my business. Do not tell me it’s nothing when I can clearly see it’s something.”
Her wide-eyed gaze fixes on mine for a long minute and I brace myself for her to make a scene. Frankie opens her mouth and then closes it. Twice.
“I’m sorry, you’re right. My mind is on the case,” Frankie says, shaking her head. “Never mind. I don’t want to talk about it when I’m here with a gorgeous man, wonderful wine, and what smells like an amazing dinner.”
“Lobster and crab cakes. I really hope you enjoy fresh seafood,” I reply, watching her smile brighten a fraction.
“I do, Damien. I enjoy all meals with you.”
She’s deflecting. I sense her thoughts drifting, like she’s trying to escape something pressing. Is she the one digging into my past? She won’t find anything. I made damn sure of that.
“You mentioned you’re working on a big project, and it sounds like it’s gaining traction?” she asks, her tone shifting back to curiosity.
I nod as I explain. “This groundbreaking technology will help individuals who haven’t communicated for years finally connect. It’s designed for those affected by trauma, PTSD—maybe even children on the spectrum.”
As I speak, I study her. I need to know what’s really behind her eyes.
“Wow.” Her eyes widen. “That’s amazing, Damien. So, what sparked your interest in helping humanity?”
I shrug. I’ve rarely hidden this part of my life from her, but for some reason, I give the same rehearsed answer. “It’s the future. Technology will help lessen the stigma and impact of a lot of disabilities and disorders.”
“Sounds like you’re more than a tech billionaire,” she teases, a playful glint in her eyes. “Careful, Damien, or people will find out your secret.”