32. Damon
“That’sthe tenth time you’ve checked your phone,” Bash says, kicking his feet up on the leather plane seat in front of him. We still have another half an hour left on this godforsaken flight.
He’s not wrong. I’ve been checking on Misty all morning, but the feed’s not working.
I’ve been texting Matthias to get it fixed, but the last message he sent back told me to fuck off, quickly followed by: She’s safe. Relax.
“Your point?” I glare back at Bash. The only reason I brought him with me was to get him out of trouble. He’s been splashed all over every gossip site for the last several months. Apparently, he can’t get his dick wet without letting every person on the planet know.
He drops his head back against the seat rest, a relaxed smile on his face. “Fuck, Damon, you’re stressing me out. I never thought I’d see the day my big brother would be obsessed.”
Obsessed doesn’t even begin to cover it. Every second I’ve spent with her is one that ingrains her deeper into my soul. I pull up the feed again and scowl at the black screen. I’m going to fucking kill Matthias.
“Mother’s with her, helping her get ready for the gala tonight.” I roll my wedding band around my finger, the platinum warm to the touch.
“Oh shit.” Bash goes rigid, lifting himself out of his casual pose. “She’s a fucking viper, man.” Bash has never been close to our mother. She’d all but abandoned us by the time she had Bash, not even a year after Xander. They would have had a stronger bond with their nannies than our parents, but my mother dismissed both women when the boys were six. She didn’t want any witnesses to the damage being held hostage had left behind. Nothing could threaten the perfect image of the Everette family she wove. Not even her own sons.
Which left their upbringing to Matthias and me. It’s a miracle they’re only semi-screwed up.
“Exactly. I didn’t anticipate the meeting running late. I’d planned on being there before she arrived.” I sent another text to my mother, but still no response. Nerves crawl under my skin, leaving the two of them unattended, especially after the bullshit my mother tried to pull the other night.
“Why don’t you call her?”
“I did,” I growl and run my hand through my already messy hair.
The overhead speakers crackle before the pilot’s voice comes out crisp. “Prepare for landing.”
“Thank fuck,” I say under my breath and spin my ring again, the surface smooth under my rough touch.
Bash raises a brow at the motion but doesn’t say a word when I meet his eyes. Misty is still so fucking skittish around me, and like fuck am I going to leave her to the wolf that is my mother.
“You know this is all temporary, right? Didn’t you make some kind of idiotic deal that she just has to put up with you for a year?”
I didn’t realize my baby brother had a death wish, but he’s pushing my limits.
“She’ll learn the truth when she’s ready. For now, she needs to believe she can get away.”
“It’s fucked up that you’re planning to basically hold her hostage.”
“I never said it wasn’t.”
He chuckles, his head falling back to its original position. “You know, I’m really looking forward to her kicking your ass. She’s got you by the balls, and somehow, you’re still delusional enough to think you make the decisions.”
He’s wrong, of course. I know exactly how much power she holds over me.
My body jerks when we touch down, and I’m already standing before we come to a stop.
“Find your own way home,” I tell Bash before I step out into the rain and head directly to my black-on-black Ferrari. I’d messaged Nicholas to have it brought over, knowing I was going to break more than a few laws to get to her.
“Hey! Fucker, I don’t have a car.”
I get into the driver’s side and shout back at him just before the door closes. “Not my problem.”
Cherry and blue lights flash behind me, but I don’t slow down. Once the officer pulls my plate, he’ll know to back off. I curb the car in front of the entrance, feet away from Matthias.
He doesn’t comment, just lifts one brow.
“Where is she?” I demand as I swing the door open and head up the stairs.
“Exactly where you left her,” he replies, only a foot or two behind me.
“Did you check on her like I asked?” I glare at the doorman when he takes too long.
“I said I would. She’s been fine.” Matthias is two steps behind me as I rush up the stairs.
“She better be.” The swipe pad beeps as I swipe my card over it, and the door swings inward.
It takes several beats before I can process what’s happening.
There’s a rack full of dresses, all in muted pastels I know Misty would hate. None of the women are visible. Instead, I can just make out their voices in the bathroom.
“Much better.” My mother’s voice grates on me.
“I’ll still need at least another hour to put color back in. This is only the first step,” a woman I don’t recognize says. They must be the stylist.
My strides eat the distance between me and the open bathroom door when I realize exactly what they mean. My mother and an unknown woman stand next to each other in the cramped space.
But it’s Misty that has my attention. She’s sitting on the edge of the tub, her eyes like voids as she stares at the wall, muted pale blond hair brushing her shoulders.
“Get the fuck out of here,” I roar, my voice vibrating with the anger pulsing through my veins.
“But we’re not done—” The stylist’s words cut off when my attention falls on her.
“Leave.”
She rushes out of the room, not bothering to grab her things. Which is lucky for her because I’m seconds away from tearing everything in here apart.
“Calm down, Damon. We know what we’re doing.” My mother goes to place her hand on my arm, but I catch her wrist.
Tension rolls through me, and it takes several beats before I let her go. “Get the fuck out of our house.”
Her eyes widen on me in shock. “But?—“
“Get. Out.” My head cocks to the side. “Do not make me say it again.”
The only thing saving her is Misty’s soft eyes on mine. They’ve started to glisten, with tears pooling on her lash line.
The front door slams shut, the intruders gone seconds before I kneel in front of my life. I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and she flinches.
“I told…I told you I didn’t belong.” Her voice cracks, and it takes my heart with it.
“I’ve never wanted you to be anyone other than who you are. I can assure you my mother will pay for this.” My teeth grind together as I suck a breath through my nose. Rage beats at my chest, burning to escape and rampage at anyone who hurts my girl like this.
She looks down at the linoleum floor. “I’m not sure why I’m crying. It’s not like I didn’t know what would be expected of me.”
I run a thumb along her cheek, catching a tear. “The only thing I expect from you is to tell her to fuck off.”
Her glassy green eyes snap to mine, and she gasps. “I can’t just tell your mom to fuck off.”
I chuckle and rock back on my heels. “You can do whatever you want to do. You’re my wife.”
She rolls her eyes, but I grip her jaw, keeping her attention on me. “It won’t happen again.”
Misty searches my face, then gives a hint of a nod.
I want to wipe away her hesitation. To force her to see that she’s exactly who she’s supposed to be, but we have time for that.
She lets out a breath and reaches up to run a strand of baby blonde hair through her fingers. “Funny enough, I’ve tried to get my hair this light a few times. She actually did a good job at it.”
I roll my neck, the tension of the day slowly seeping from me. “You wanted to be blonde?”
“Ha! No. I wanted to go soft lavender, but if there’s any yellow in your hair, it turns like a gross, mucky brown.”
“Do you have any left?”
Her head tilts. “What?”
I take the strand from her and let it slip through my fingers. “Of the lavender dye. Do you have any left?”
“Yeah, but…” She looks behind me. “You kinda evicted the stylist.”
I stand. “I’ll do it. Where’s the bottle.”
Her mouth forms a pretty O shape.
“Misty?”
She gives her head a jerk. “Seriously?”
“I’m always serious.”
A laugh huffs out of her. “It’ll be messy.”
“I like messy.” I run my tongue over my teeth as her eyes darken on me.
She takes several deep breaths before replying. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I smirk. “Consider me properly warned. Now, where’s the dye?”
She points to the small vanity I’m blocking. “You’ll have to move so I can go through that. There’s a few colors in there.”
I glance back at the tiny cupboard. Sure enough, the room is so small I’m blocking the entire thing. “Alright, I have to make a call. I’ll be right outside.”
She stands, and her fingers push against my shoulders until I’m standing in the hall. My chest lightens when she raises a brow, daring me to say anything. That’s my girl.
Shock registers through me when she slams the door in my face and I hear it lock.
“Misty?”
“I have to pee. Your freaking mother was here for hours.” Her voice is muffled through the door.
I bite my cheek, fighting back a smile. I can’t remember the last time I felt this way. If I’ve ever felt this way.
I pull out my phone and dial Matthias.
“Have you calmed down now that you’ve seen your wife?”
“Tell security that Mother is barred from future events.”
He lets out a whistle. “That’s not going to be easy.”
“Do I sound like I care? You’re fucking lucky it’s not you. You said she was fine,”
Silence meets me, and by the time he speaks, his voice has gone cold. “Was she not fine, Damon?”
It’s moments like this that remind me just how lethal Matthias is.
“Physically, yes.” We both know firsthand it’s not the physical that leaves the deepest scars.
“She’ll be okay. They’d planned on turning her into one of Mother’s perfect society girls.”
“You mean miserable,” he states, and I can almost hear him run his hand over his face.“I’ll see to it myself. I’m looking forward to our mother being told no for a change,” he says before the line disconnects.
The door opens, and Misty’s standing there in a black robe and holding a basket with a few bottles and bowls inside. “You sure you want to do this?”
I hold out my hand and lift one brow. “Give it here.”
She goes to hand it to me but pulls it away at the last second. “You can’t wear that!”
I’m still in my Armani suit, but I couldn’t give a fuck.
“I’m serious. You can’t wear that.”
The snap of my pants clicks open as I make quick work of divesting my shirt and smirk at the way her cheeks pinken.
“Is this okay, Nymph?
She runs her tongue along her bottom lip and nods, focusing still on my chest.
I clench my fist at the urge to fuck her against the wall and take the basket from her. “Now what?”
“You’ve never done this?”
“Do I look like someone who dyes other people’s hair?”
She chuckles. “No. I can’t believe I’m letting you do this. Don’t make me look bad.”
“You could never look bad.”
“Stop it. I’m serious.” She’s laughing for real now, and it seeps into my chest, wrapping itself around my heart. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep her laughing like this.
Stepping forward, I crowd her back into the bathroom. “Haven’t you realized? I’m very good at what I do.”
She just smirks at me. “We’ll see.”