30. Damon
Rage burnslike flames inside of me, and it’s only Misty’s cool grasp on my wrist that’s keeping me sane.
“Apologize.”
Mother’s staring at Misty, mouth agape, eyes wide in shock, before her expression twists into disgust. “I hope it’s temporary.”
“You would hope that,” I say tightly, every muscle tensing to keep myself in place. She may be my mother, but she’s walking a razor-thin line.
I tuck Misty into my side, moving between her and my mother, and lean forward to loom over her. My voice is cold as death when I command, “You will treat her with respect.”
Her throat bobs, and she shifts her weight back, putting on her best fake smile. “Yes, of course. I won’t say a word.”
There’s enough condescension in her words that it makes my skin crawl.
“What did you just say?”
“Well, you obviously want to keep her a secret, dear. I didn’t realize you were this desperate to fulfill your grandfather’s request. I’m sure you have your reasons.” She looks Misty up and down. “I imagine if you only want someone to fulfill the required timeline, she’s a perfect choice.”
Misty flinches as if an invisible hand reached out and slapped her.
I let go of her and move slowly toward the woman who dared hurt her. “You will regret that.”
Slim, cool fingers wrap around my wrist and tug me back. Misty’s shaking her head at me. She tries to smile, but it wobbles at the corner. “Let it go, Damon. You know she’s right.”
“Fuck that.” I switch our grip so that my fingers are entwined in hers and pull her toward the stage.
She fights my grip, whisper yelling the entire way there. “What do you think you’re doing? That’s enough. Let me go.”
I don’t bother answering. It was a mistake to follow her little rule, and I’m going to fix it, whether she likes it or not.
The stage stairs are steep, and I switch my grip to her elbow when she stumbles up them. By the time I get to the microphone, a hush has fallen over the room, and all eyes are on us.
They swing a spotlight, and I pull Misty into my side when she tries to hide behind me. This was inevitable.
The mic’s already on when I speak into it. “I want to thank you all for coming tonight. I appreciate your attention. Let me present to you Misty Everette, my wife.”
Misty gasps, then glares at me, mouthing the words “I. Am. Going. To. Kill you.”
She’s so fucking perfect. “Fuck, I love it when you’re all stabby. Feel free to try.”
Misty is fuming beside me during the car ride home, her nails drumming on the windowsill. But underneath that anger, there are flashes of fear that have the hair standing up on my neck.
After the other night, it’s clear something happened to her, something that I’m determined to find out, even if it’s just to crush the person who made her feel this way. I reach over to pull her toward me, but she slams the armrest down between us like a wall. “You’re a real bastard, you know that?” she says between clenched teeth.
“It needed to happen.”
She exhales sharply through her nose, giving her head a small shake. “You would think that. It’s not going to affect you!”
“You’re an Everette now. No one will dare say anything about you.”
“Oh really? What about a year from now, after we separate? What do you think they’ll say then?”
If her words didn’t piss me off so much, I’d love how feisty she’s behaving.
“You don’t have to worry about that.”
“No, you don’t have to worry about that. Hell, I’m going to have to move to Europe to get away from the fallout.”
A muscle twitches in my jaw with the effort to stop myself from explaining that this will never be over. That there is no after. There’s not a timeline in this universe where she gets away from me.
She’s as sweet as ever when she says goodbye to Nicholas, who can’t help himself from smirking at me, but she remains cold as ice when I try to speak to her.
I follow her up the stairs, enjoying the flush that crawls up the back of her neck. I move, closing the distance between us, and crowd her against the wall, stopping her ascent.
“Back off.” She looks up at me with narrowed green eyes, a dare written over them I can’t resist. I crash my mouth into hers and lick at the seams until she opens for me with a moan.
A dam breaks inside her, and her anger burns her from the inside as she scratches her nails along my back. She pours her frustration into me, and I drink in every last drop.
“Fuck,” I groan, pushing my hips into her, staggering my feet on the stairs for balance, and kiss her jaw when her head falls back to rest on the wall.
“You are so fucking sexy right now,” I murmur into her neck, then bite the delicate skin. She bucks against me, and I reach down, lifting her by her thighs until she wraps her legs around my waist. Misty buries her fingers into my hair and hauls my mouth to hers, biting my lip hard enough for the taste of iron to fill my mouth. A low groan rumbles in my throat, and she rocks herself against my throbbing cock.
Her movements are rushed, jerky, and sharp, with built-up frustration as she tries to tear my belt open. She’s just about to slide her hand around my cock when the door a floor above us opens, and her eyes snap wide.
She instantly drops her legs from around me and goes to sidestep me. I grip her arms, holding her in place. “Don’t.”
She yanks her arm back. “Let go of me.”
I’m forced to stay to the side as a young couple walk down the stairs holding hands, giving Misty time to put space between us. I’d prefer to make them move around me, but something tells me Misty would not like me harassing our neighbors.
The second the couple passes, I take my time stalking her. She doesn’t look back when she enters the apartment, but she doesn’t close the door either. Whether she wants to admit it or not, she wants me here.
The door to our bedroom slams shut, followed by the soft click of the lock the second I clear the threshold.
I knock softly. “It’s not a good idea to run from me, Little Nymph.”
“Leave me alone.” Her muffled yell comes clear through the door.
“You’re in our room,” I point out helpfully.
“Sleep on the couch, or better yet, go to your own home.”
My jaw ticks, but a slow smile takes over my mouth. When I fuck her again, I’m going to remind her just how much she wants me here.
“Am I supposed to sleep in my suit?”
There’s a long pause, shuffling noises coming from the other side of the door, before it clicks open. I barely register her face before she tosses clothes my way and relocks the door.
I drop my forehead to the hollow wood and take a deep breath in. It still smells like her. Fine. If she wants to play this game, I’ll play.
I return to the kitchen and pour myself two fingers’ worth of whiskey, sipping it slowly, giving her time to form a false sense of security.
My phone buzzes.
Bash: How pissed is my sister?
Xander: The way she stormed out of there was impressive.
Bash: Some fucking asshole was talking shit about her. Don’t worry. We took care of it.
Xander: Highlight of my night.
Matthias: The two of you made a fucking mess of it. You’re lucky I caught the camera feed and wiped it. Next time find somewhere hidden.
Me: What the fuck did they say?
Bash: Nothing anyone will say again.
There’s a simmer in my veins, but I know for any of us to survive, I have to trust my brothers. I put down my phone and take another sip of my drink, letting the smooth liquid burn my throat.
I reach into my briefcase, pulling out the small velvet box. My Little Nymph is playing a dangerous game. Five minutes after the lights turn off in her room, I set my glass down and make my way to her. A butter knife makes quick work of the hinges, and it’s seconds before I have the door off and set against the wall.
Misty sits up, arms crossed over her chest. She’s wearing one of my oversized shirts, which hangs off her shoulder, revealing her tanned skin beneath. But it’s the tears streaming down her face that catch my attention, and it’s like I’ve been slammed in the gut.
I crawl over the bed and shift my weight over her, brushing back one of her tears with my thumb before licking it off. “Are these tears from me?”
She shakes her head no.
I meet her eyes, a striking green highlighted by her tears. “Then why?”
“Your mother’s right.” She looks devastated, and I want to tear the world to pieces to fix it.
“About what?” I ask, swiping away another tear.
“That I don’t belong with you? That I’ll just ruin everything.”
I’m going to fucking kill my mother. “You’re not an idiot. Don’t act like one.”
Misty jerks her face away, but I grip her jaw, dragging her attention back to me. “I don’t give a single fuck what anyone else thinks. What do you think?”
She looks between my eyes, scanning back and forth between them before the seam between her brows loosens. “I want to be here.”
“Good girl.”
I sit back, forcing myself to give her some semblance of distance. Her brows pull together as she watches me present her with a small, black velvet box.
She gasps, taking it from me, eyes wide as she traces her finger along the seam.
I cover her hand with mine. “Open it.”
As if snapping out of a daze, she lifts the lid on its hinges, and her mouth falls open at the sight of the ten-carat canary diamond in the center.
“I can’t take this.”
“It’s cute that you think you have a choice.” My jaw clenches at her rejection. I lift her hand with one of mine and slide the jewelry over her finger. It fits perfectly, as expected since I measured it in her sleep.
For all her feigned resistance, she doesn’t try to stop me, instead following the movement in stunned silence.
I lift her knuckles and press my lips against them. “Don’t take this off.” I lie flat on the bed and pull her side against me, marveling at the sight of my ring circling her finger. There’s no mistaking she’s mine.
“That sounds impractical.”
“I’m not joking.”
She just rolls her eyes. I’m addicted to this part of her. The feistiness she only shows me.
She yawns, and her eyes droop, so I kiss her softly for several heartbeats. “Sleep, beautiful.”
I run my fingers through her hair, curling the ends until her breathing evens out. I avoid her back, knowing she’s not ready to tell me yet, but she will be. And when she does, whoever the fuck hurt her will wish he was dead.
Misty murmurs and turns her face into me, sighing. I kiss her temple.
“Don’t lock the door again, wife, or I’ll have to fuck some sense into you.”