Chapter Twenty-Three
H e walked into my bedroom like he owned it, and suddenly the large suite of two open rooms was too small.
His gaze raked over my body, and his eyes grew dark. “First things first, you look fucking edible, gorgeous.” He appreciated the long summer dress with spaghetti straps I’d put on after my bath, which, by the way, had eased a lot of the soreness.
I gave him a shy smile. “Thank you.”
He closed the distance between us and cupped my face, kissing me hard, once. “Now to business. The search of your guest list didn’t turn up any red flags. Marek told me there’ve been no new letters. We’re back in a holding pattern until the opening tomorrow, and my mother called, wanting to know what time we’re going over.” He smiled. “And you could’ve told me Morrows is gay.”
I frowned. “He is?” He’d never said. Not that I ever would’ve been so intrusive to ask.
Smiling, Damian shook his head. “Come on, beautiful, you must’ve noticed. He wasn’t shy about checking Collins out.”
“To be honest, I was paying more attention to his art than him.” I always paid more attention to the art.
His thumb swept across my bottom lip. “I can live with that.”
“With what?”
“You not checking out other guys.”
I blushed. “I don’t.” I didn’t. Not until him.
He grinned. “Glad we have that settled. What time do you want to head over to Mom’s? ”
My stomach knotted, and I pulled away. “I have a lot of work to get done before the opening and party.”
He studied me for a moment. “You have two assistants, the tables and chairs are set up around your pool, and the art is hanging on the walls in the gallery.”
This was all true. And I’d spoken with Harrison, and he was finishing up with the placards for each painting and said he’d have them placed before five. Genevieve had already finalized everything with my chef and the caterer, and the alcohol had already been delivered and a bar was set up on my patio. Everything was organized and ready for tomorrow.
Technically, I didn’t have anything to do.
But I didn’t want to meet his mother.
I didn’t want to meet anyone’s mother.
Slowly, Damian nodded. “This is about your own mom.”
Frowning, I threw out the first excuse that came to mind. “I think it’s a little too soon.”
“Too soon for what? Meeting my family? Or too soon for me?”
My hands twisted. “I’m just saying, I think maybe we should….” I took a breath. I didn’t want to go there. This was the opposite of what I wanted, and now I didn’t know what I was saying because I was panicking at the thought of meeting his mother like it was some full-court event. “Maybe we should slow this down,” I blurted, sick to my stomach even saying it.
He stared at me.
No words, no change in his facial expression. He just stared.
And I held my breath.
One heartbeat.
Two.
Three.
“No,” he stated. “Grab your purse, whatever you need, we’re going.” His hands went to his hips.
I stood there.
“Now,” he commanded .
I blinked.
He sighed. “You can stand there giving me doe eyes all you want, gorgeous, but you’re coming with me, and we’re going to my mom’s for dinner. You’re gonna eat something, meet my obnoxious brothers, and you’re gonna forget about the gallery, the fucking letters, the car bomb, white dresses, and stocked yachts for one goddamn hour. Then we’re gonna come back here, get into that bed…” He tipped his chin at my king-sized bed I was now glad I’d purchased. “And we’re gonna talk about why you tried to push me away just now.” He closed the distance I’d put between us and grasped my chin. “Just so you know, that wasn’t simply lust between us earlier. That was two people coming together who fit. And, sweetheart, I’ve never fit with a woman like I do with you. What we’re building is special. Tell me you know that.”
I heard him. I’d heard every word, but the butterflies in my stomach weren’t allowing me to comprehend it. I’d held on to my virginity for twenty-five years only to give it away on a desk in an office like it was nothing.
But it’d been everything.
Except I couldn’t have everything. I’d had everything before, and it’d been taken away. And part of me knew that maybe I’d wanted Damian in my office because it would make it less special than a date and wine and a bedroom. But then he’d made it special. He made me feel so incredibly special. My whole life people told me I was special, but no one ever made me feel like he did in my office.
Knowing I needed to say something, but not knowing what, I sucked in a breath and gave the truth instead. “I don’t know that. I wouldn’t know how to know that.” Not any of it. Because I’d never done anything like this in my whole life. Not even moving to America was as scary as the cliff I felt like I was jumping off of now.
“Then I’ll tell you.” He bent his knees to be closer to my height and looked into my eyes. “We fit.” His hand slid to cup my cheek. “This is special.”
Tears welled, and for once, I let my heart rule over my mind. “Okay,” I whispered. “It’s special.” Terrified, overjoyed, hopeful, I felt it all as he gave me a heart-stopping smile.
He kissed my temple then his expression sobered. “I can’t imagine going through what you did growing up. Royalty and money doesn’t make up for losing a mom, I know that. I’m not trying to push an agenda on you. I want you to have a meal with my family. Collins has had meals with my family. It’s loud, it’s distracting, there’s always too much testosterone, but I promise you one thing.”
“What?” I managed to ask without letting any tears fall.
“You won’t regret it.”
I sucked in a breath.
“Just a meal.”
“Okay,” I nodded.
He kissed me once. Tender and sweet, his lips brushed against mine, and with the softest probe of his tongue, he swirled through my mouth.
Instant heat rushed between my legs, and a tingling feeling that’d never quite gone away since he’d been inside me blossomed like a night bloom in a rush of showmanship. A small moan I was becoming familiar with escaped without thought.
His arms closed around me, but instead of kissing me harder, he brought me tight against him and his hard length, then he threw his head back and growled. “Jesus Christ, sweetheart.” He kissed my forehead. “You moan like that again, we’re not making dinner, and you need to eat.” Strength and authority radiating from him, he took my hand. “Come on.”
I grabbed my purse as he led me to the door, thankful I’d taken the time to do my hair and don a light dusting of powder and mascara after my bath. When he opened the door to my bedroom, I was surprised to see Collins in the hall.
“Oh. Hello, Mr. Collins.” I wondered what had happened to the other two men, Marek and Brandt, but I didn’t ask, because if I had to have anyone besides Damian standing outside my bedroom, the man Damian called Marek would be my last choice. He’d been frighteningly austere, bordering on criminal if I had to guess.
Collins nodded at me, then raised an eyebrow at Damian.
“We’re going to Mom’s. She cooked.”
Collins almost smiled. “That casserole shit?”
Damian did smile. “Yes, but don’t let her hear you call it shit.”
“Didn’t say it was shit, asked if it was that casserole shit,” Collins explained.
“There’s a difference?” His arm around me, Damian led me down the hall while Collins fell in behind us.
“You fucking with me?” Collins asked. “There’s a big difference. Good shit, bad shit.”
Damian glanced down at me and shook his head. “Ignore him. Half of what he says doesn’t make sense.”
“Only when you’re too fucking pretty to understand words because you got shit for brains. Which, by the way, is bad shit in case you were wondering.”
Damian chuckled as he opened my front door. “Right. Keep that up, Collins.”
Sawyer stood on the front steps, his hands clasped in front of him, staring straight ahead as Genevieve talked at him a million miles an hour.
Genevieve looked up at me with surprise. “Oh! You’re here.”
“Not for long,” Damian answered. “She’s taking a break and going to dinner.”
Genevieve looked between Damian and Collins. “With all of you?”
Damian smiled as if he were in on a secret. “Just two of us. You get Sawyer all to yourself until we get back.”
Genevieve blushed hard. “Oh. Um, no. I didn’t mean that. I was just asking him, um, about some people we both know and the opening, and oh…” She waved a hand holding her cell phone in the air, and her tablet slipped from under her arm.
Sawyer scowled as his hand shot out and grabbed the tablet.
Genevieve continued talking like she hadn’t just almost dropped another device. “I’m all set for tomorrow, but I have a few last-minute details you might want to go over.”
I started to answer. “You can call—”
“You can text her,” Damian cut in. “Or handle it yourself.” He smiled to soften the blow.
“Right, right, of course.” Genevieve immediately backtracked. “I got it. No problem. Consider it handled.” She nodded toward the three SUVs parked in the driveway. “Have a, um, good time… at dinner.”
“It’s at his mom’s,” Collins clipped.
Genevieve’s eyebrows shot up to her forehead, and Sawyer stared straight ahead as Damian hustled me to the first SUV. When he got behind the wheel, I realized something.
“I haven’t seen Nikolas this evening.”
Damian started the vehicle. “We had a conversation with him.”
“We?” I asked, not sure I wanted to know.
“Marek, actually.”
Oh God. “Is everything all right?”
“They came to an understanding.”
I wasn’t sure his friend Marek came to an understanding with anyone. “Mr. Marek doesn’t strike me as the compromising sort.”
“He’s not.” Damian pulled out of my driveway, and Collins followed.
Inhaling, I fought for patience. “So, what does this mean? For Nikolas?”
Damian glanced at me. “You’re getting a new security system, babe, and we’re gonna catch this stalker prick. After that, you need to let Nikolas retire. He won’t ask, and you’re too polite to suggest it. I get the history, but you need to release him of his duty.”
Taking it all in, I nodded. I didn’t particularly want Nikolas around, but he was my last connection to my father and that life. But I’d moved here to be away from that, so there wasn’t really any reason to hold on to him, and Damian was right. He needed to retire and have a life of his own.
I glanced out the window. “Message received. I’ll take care of it. ”
Damian took my hand and brought it to his lips. “It’s gonna be okay, babe. You’ll be safe. I promise.”
His promise and all it implied was a lot to take in, but I nodded anyway.
We were silent as he drove off the island and headed inland. Before I knew it, he was pulling up in front of a modest old Miami bungalow with a bunch of cars parked on the lawn and the short driveway.
He squeezed my hand. “You okay? You were quiet on the ride.”
“So were you.” The entire house barely looked bigger than my bedroom. I couldn’t imagine five boys and their mother living there.
“I figured you needed a little headspace, sweetheart.”
I hadn’t heard that expression before, but I got the gist of it. “Thank you, I was just thinking.”
“About?”
I glanced at him. “You’re a nice person.”
He chuckled. “I’m not sure that’s a compliment. Nice doesn’t get the girl.”
I almost smiled. He had the girl, and he knew it. His confidence was one thing, but his resolute conviction was another. “I’m pretty sure you already think you got the girl.”
His expression turned deadly serious as he brought my hand to this mouth. “I want the girl,” he said quietly, emphasizing want . “I’m all-in if she’ll have me.”
I didn’t know you could fall for a stranger, but in that moment, I fell for one. Head over heels. I’d never met a man as alpha and as bossy as him, not even my father. But I’d also never met a man who so openly laid out his vulnerabilities without any regard to the outcome.
“I think you know the answer to that.” I was here, at his mother’s house. That was huge for me.
“Yeah, babe,” he said quietly, leaning toward me. “I think I do.”
He kissed me.