Chapter 5
DAMON
“Was that really fucking necessary?”
Jason is pouring himself an orange juice when I enter the kitchen and take it as I pass.
“Yes,” he replies curtly, filling another glass.
I sit at the counter, wishing I was upstairs showering with Mae instead of discussing modus operandi with my brother. “Perhaps it’s something we should have agreed upon beforehand.”
“We did.”
For fuck’s sake.
“Well, I think our versions of the conversation differ slightly.”
Jason glances up from the contract he’s reading. “It’s going to work, is it not?”
“There are a lot of possibilities that could have worked. You didn’t need to choose that one.”
“I went with the most time-efficient.”
“Maybe so, but she doesn’t deserve to be violated like that.”
“And yet you continued fucking her, knowing perfectly well what was happening.”
“Brother, the world could have been on fire, and it still wouldn’t be enough of a reason to stop fucking her.”
Jason sips his juice, his focus unwavering. After setting the glass back on the counter, he speaks with an air of indifference, “I guess that’s just something you’ll have to learn to live with.”
I exhale sharply, running a hand through my hair in frustration. Jason’s superpower is him becoming a brick wall—hard to knock down and about as much personality. “Use it however you like to our advantage, but that video is never to see the light of day.” I hold his challenging stare. “Not even at night when you’re feeling lonely.”
He barely reacts, but his deadpan sarcasm is enough to make me smile. “I’m pleased to inform you that watching my brother fuck is not something that gets me off.”
I lean back on the chair and stare out at the sunrise. I have a million and one things to be thinking about today, but all I can think about is Mae. From the time she walked through my front door and lit up the room to the moment I closed the bedroom door on my betrayal and her . And then there’s everything in between.
Her taste.
Her touch.
Her laugh.
Her smile.
Her tears.
“Don’t lose sight of what needs to be done,” Jason says as if reading my thoughts. “We’re not saving wounded puppies along the way. That was never part of the deal. Pull back now if you can’t handle her. There’s too much at stake.”
He’s right to an extent.
It was me who convinced him to take on the deal. But I had little choice of my own. The benefits far outweigh the risks if all goes to plan. It’s just that the risk is fucking enormous—the type that keeps you awake at night and manifests itself in cold sweats. The shit that plagues one’s nightmares, and with my persuasion, Jason gave in to the pressure. So, to allay his fears, I calm the situation. The best I can, at least, when I’m tired and have been up all night fucking the soul out of Mae Cooper.
Cooper.
That name doesn’t suit her because it’s his . And he doesn’t suit her .
Her maiden name, her artist signature, Ellison , is much more fitting.
Mae Ellison .
“If you’re fucking daydreaming about her, I swear to God—”
“Don’t tell me how to handle Mae. She’s always been mine to deal with while you keep her dipshit husband in check. I’ll play the game and see this out to the end, but leave her to me.”
“After this morning, she’s yours. But the minute I see her jeopardize the contract, I will step in.”
“She won’t.”
“She will. And when she does, a blackmailing sex tape will be the least of her worries.”
~
MAE
Throb.
Throb.
Throb.
The pounding persists between my legs.
I’m swollen and sore, and the water stings instead of soothes. Adrenaline gives way to violent shivers, and I remind myself the sooner I end the shower, the quicker I can head home. Turning off the faucet, I reach for the towel I’d left on the counter to find it no longer there.
“Looking for this?”
I find Jason standing in the bathroom doorway holding my towel, his face the same mask of indifference his brother wore earlier.
There’s nowhere to hide from his wandering gaze, and as the hot shower loses its effect, I’m left shivering. “What are you doing in here?”
“I trust you enjoyed my brother’s hospitality?”
If it’s his intention to humiliate me, it’s working. “What do you want?”
Jason tosses the towel and any remaining hope into the bedroom and out of reach, then with the grace of a stalking lion, he closes the space between us, backing me against the counter. He stands so close I can taste his subtle cologne on my tongue and feel the heat of his body on mine.
“We spent the night entertaining your husband’s bullshit,” he begins with cutting malice. “This is now our chance to talk business.”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“Then keep that pretty mouth of yours shut until I say so.” The silence that ensues is him daring me to challenge his authority. “What you say from here on out will determine what happens to you next. Nod if you understand?”
I comply.
“This contract carries an enormous amount of weight. We’ve worked hard to get it. We’ve built relationships, invested time and money, and done the footwork to get it to this point. It’s essential it’s seen through to the end. So, I’m going to need you to be honest…” Jason pauses, studying me closely with his impenetrable stare. “Yes or no, Mae. Did you attempt to talk Peter out of accepting the contract?”
Lie. “No.”
His jaw twitches. “Say it again, this time like you mean it.”
Squaring my shoulders, one word has never been so difficult. “No.”
Jason looks at me the way I imagine a serial killer looks at his victims seconds before he takes their life. “That’s a shame,” he murmurs. “I see and hear everything, Mae, and from what I heard, you were adamant you both walk out.”
I’m done for.
Nothing I confess will change my predicament.
“In fact…” Jason continues, “… you spent the time convincing your husband to forget about the proposal. That you didn’t care if your refusal jeopardized the project.”
That all sounds almost verbatim. Which means he’s not bluffing, and he most certainly heard everything .
Embarrassed, I close my eyes, shielding myself from the inquisition. But Jason is having none of it. Gripping my jaw, his fingers dig deep until he’s rewarded with my cry.
“ Open your eyes, Mae.”
When I do, it’s only to come face to face with his icy wrath. “You and your husband’s welfare is not important to us, but he has something we need, and you’re going to ensure he gives it to us.”
“How am I—”
“Be the unbreakable wife,” he says, mocking Peter’s dinner-time proclamation. “Dangle that fucking carrot until the asshole agrees and puts it in writing. Your job is to convince him. To ensure he sees this through to the end. Do you understand?”
It’s impossible .
“In case you missed it, my husband was fairly explicit last night with how much he doesn’t appreciate my involvement. What makes you think he’ll listen to me now?”
“That’s not really my concern. You’re a creative woman. You’ll figure out how to get him listening.”
“And if I fail?”
Jason steps back, ready to take it up a notch. “Failing is not an option, but perhaps you need an incentive.” He holds his cell so I can see the screen. I try to take it, but he tuts, indicating that I should simply watch.
I squint, surprised that he’s showing me pornography.
And then I hear it.
My voice.
A sledgehammer pounds my chest as the recording is played.
“Feel how wet you are for this? You want more, sweetheart?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t hear you. Do… you… want… more?”
“Yes!”
“Good girl.”
Ice-cold blood courses through my veins, watching the footage of Damon fucking me from behind moments before my second orgasm, his hand wrapped around my neck, pinning me down so I don’t face the intruder
That bastard.
He allowed this.
Damon’s brutal dismissal now makes nauseating sense. He’d continued fucking me throughout the night, knowing he already had a sex tape in his possession.
How utterly foolish I was to give myself to him.
But it wouldn’t have mattered what I wanted. Damon Shaw was going to take it all anyway. I just made it easy for him.
“You have two reasons to keep your mouth shut and do as you’re told,” Jason says, reminding me of the troubled reality that awaits. “One, you fail to cooperate, and this fine performance falls into the wrong hands.”
He watches the color drain from my face. “Jason, you can’t do this—”
“Secondly…” He inches forward, hands resting on the marble counter on either side of me. I’m caged in, and he’s now so close I’m forced to look up at him, the powerplay in full effect. “If you feel so ever morally or ethically inclined to work against us, I could simply make you disappear , all without the police ever feeling the need to search for you.”
Jason’s threat is followed by a silent standoff, partly because I’m unsure how to safely proceed with a psychopath. With perverse satisfaction, he observes the tremor rattling my body.
“We don’t even know what you want him to sign off on,” I finally manage.
“The details will be revealed in time on a need-to-know basis. At this stage, he’s to take the first step.” Jason wipes a damp strand of hair from my cheek. It’s a tender touch, but the threat is ever-present. “You, too, have a job to do, Mae. That’s to convince your husband to sign, be the smart girl I know you are, and keep any doubt to yourself. If you don’t, I will know, and it won’t end well for you. So, no matter what new information comes to light, you nod your pretty fucking head and say yes-fucking-sir .”
The real question remains, and I’m almost too scared to ask.
“And if Peter makes the decision on his own to not sign?”
The barely-there turn of his lips says it all. “Then I hope you’re ready for what’s coming for you.”
~
Like a prisoner under guard, I’m steered down the staircase and out into the pavilion, Jason’s fingers wrapped around my upper arm, digging to the bone.
“Sit,” he says, pushing me onto a tufted armchair. It’s a beautiful morning outside, yet my stomach is full of dread. “Here…” He drops my cell on my lap. I shouldn’t be surprised that he’d taken it, but I am because as the morning unfolds, I’m more aware of how the cogs of this horror story were set in motion long before the cocktail party invitation was sent. Fast forward to last night, and Jason’s accomplished much while I was preoccupied with Damon.
He stands behind me and leans over my shoulder. “Be a good girl and write back to Allyson about how pleasurable your night was.”
“You’re an asshole!”
He gives a short laugh that doesn’t lack punch. “Now’s not the time to get cute with me. Write.”
Unlocking the screen, I see three replies.
Allyson: Are you safe?
Allyson: Should I call the police?
Allyson: Mae? What’s happening?
Jason watches me type a response.
Me: I’m so sorry for causing alarm. Everything is fine. Home now after a big night. x
Fingers brush my cheek, and I press send.
“It’s done.” The shake in my voice deceives me. “I want to go home.”
“I’m sure you do. But remember…” His lips graze my ear, and I flinch. “I know where you rest your pretty little head at night, so trust me when I say I won’t hesitate to pay you a visit.” Kissing my temple with a deceptive tenderness, he backs away, leaving me to swipe angrily at my wet cheeks. My chest is in excruciating pain, the constant pounding of my heart making it difficult to breathe.
There’s a sudden rush of water to my right, my attention drawn to the movement outside. There I find Damon emerging from the pool, his body strong and glorious, especially under the sun’s early morning rays.
And … he’s naked.
Seemingly, his night of debauchery was simply a warmup. With his sexual desire piqued, he has me in his direct line of sight.
Shit.
I stand, ready to run, but a croaky voice calls my name, and something inside me dies.
I traded my opportunity to flee for a night to feel anything other than my husband’s hate.
And now, I find myself caught between them and regret.
“You clearly survived the night better than I did,” Peter says from the staircase, his hangover forcing him to grip the balustrade.
“Where have you been?” This question alone should have been enough to raise his suspicion about my whereabouts.
“There.” He points to the first double doors I know I’d looked in. “I must have rolled off the damn bed.” Peter stretches the way anyone would after spending the night on a hard floor. He pecks me on the cheek and glances down at my change of clothes, and this time, he doesn’t miss a beat, his frown turning to anger like the flick of a switch. “Jesus Christ, Mae, you went home? I thought I made it clear…”
“ You passed out, Peter,” I answer in haste because the threats are closing in. “They had you taken to one of the rooms, and I couldn’t—”
“Fuck!” My husband runs a hand over his blotchy face. “You better hope this hasn’t jeopardized things.”
He cannot be for real?
“I told you that no matter what, you were not to leave me here.”
“Peter, you—”
“Stop!” He raises a firm hand to silence me. “It was a simple directive, Mae. So simple, even you could have seen it through.”
It’s a slap in the face, and I feel its full force.
Behind him, with a towel now secured low on his hips, Damon frowns at the exchange.
“We should go,” I urge, preferring he keeps his criticisms of my very existence within the privacy of our own home.
To my relief, he nods, wincing from his headache, but instead of following me, Peter turns and greets the brothers. “Morning.”
Damon makes a point of giving Peter a critical once-over. “You look like shit.”
“And I feel it. From what I remember, which isn’t much, that was a crazy night, yeah? I hope you slept better than I did.”
My stomach takes a nosedive.
Damon casts a subtle glance, a knowing smile turning his lips. “I’ve been up all night working .”
“Jesus, man. After a cocktail party?”
“I make exceptions for things I enjoy.” Leaning against the back of the armchair, muscled arms folding across his chest, it appears Damon is settling in for the perverse exchange. “Especially when what I have my sights on becomes a guilty pleasure.”
Privy to the sick joke, Jason laughs while a wave of humiliation floods my soul.
“Well…” Peter concedes, “… you live an enviable life, man. Single. Rich. Probably with a healthy lineup of women waiting for the late-night call.” Looking between Damon and me, mockery on the tip of his tongue, he says, “It’s a good thing muscles aren’t your flavor, hey, honey?”
For the love of God.
Damon bites his bottom lip, halting a knowing smile.
Peter persists. “It would be stiff competition if she were.”
“Real stiff,” Damon concurs. Gone are the subtle glances. Now, his eyes fix firmly on mine as if we’re alone in the room. “Stay for breakfast.”
Absolutely not.
I shake my head, but my husband has other ideas. “You sure? It was already such a big night.”
“I insist.” The ease with which this man gets his way every time is disgusting. “We’re going to be in business together, after all.”
Peter’s stilted laugh adds an extra layer of tension to the room. “Well, we do need to keep discussing your rather interesting proposal. This time without plying me with alcohol.”
“Then stay.” Damon nods to the maid bringing out platters of fruit and pastries before setting a challenge for me. “Mae?”
Under the weight of their scrutiny, the three men watch curiously as a panic attack manifests itself. Jason is waiting to see if the visible cracks are about to break me apart permanently. Peter’s scowl is followed by a slipstream of slow-motion blur. His lips twist, forming antagonisms I’m grateful not to hear.
And then there’s Damon fucking me with his insatiable eyes.
“Mae!” Peter callously shakes me back to life. “Wake up. What’s wrong with you?” he hisses.
I swallow hard, my mouth scratchy and dry. “I, um… I’m okay. Can we just—” Jason clears his throat, reminding me of the obligations I want no part of, but I’m forced to concede. “We’ll leave soon, after breakfast.”
“Get your shit together, would you?” he warns with a finality that feeds my anxiety. Peter turns back to the Shaws, his laugh designed to overcompensate my apparent rudeness. “I’m not sure I can do much beyond breakfast anyway, so yes, we’d love to stay.”
While Peter follows Jason to the poolside table, Damon remains, his penetrative stare holding me captive. My chest aches with a crushing weight that won’t shift until I get away from my husband and away from the man who doesn’t need to utter a single word to have me bend to his will. He doesn’t even need to touch my body. I feel him.
“ Honey! ” Peter calls. “You coming?” He’s distracted enough with a hangover and coffee to pay any attention to what’s happening back up at the house.
“Your husband’s beckoning you.”
“Why are you doing this?” I whisper, barely holding back my panic. “You could have just let us go.”
“And miss seeing you flustered?” He steps close. “Those beautiful pale cheeks burn every time you look at me.”
“Not for reasons you might think.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” He closes the remaining space between us, knuckles gently grazing my cheek as if to prove his point. It feels dangerously intimate, and it steals my breath.
“ Mae !” Peter again yells, startling me out the trace Damon puts me in.
“Better yet, that asshole can go home, and you can stay. Pick up where we left off.” He pulls the hair away from my neck, inspecting the damage his hungry mouth had done throughout the night. “I certainly know of a few extra things I want to do to you.” His provocation is a murmur but doesn’t lack any sort of punch.
For the first time, I see the evenly spaced red marks on Damon’s chest, four on each pectoral from where I sunk my nails in while he took me over and over again. He follows my line of sight, a cocky smirk pulling his lips.
“We can add to the collection if you like.”
I shake my head, needing him out of it. “I trusted you.”
“Why would you trust me, Mae? Until last night, I was a complete stranger to you. A stranger who wanted you in his bed. Tell me you didn’t go into it with the same intentions.”
My hands ball into fists. “Except I didn’t film you for blackmail, you lying prick!”
Damon has the nerve to shrug off the blame. “That wasn’t my idea.”
“And yet, you allowed it.”
This time, holding my furious stare, he nods. “I did.”
For reasons I can’t explain, it hurts more than it should. “This is on me…” I admit with an unhealthy dose of self-loathing, “… because whatever the hell that feeling was when we first met was enough to convince me that you were actually a good person. That you were safe . Clearly, I was wrong.”
Damon’s jaw ticks, his hardened expression looking like every word that comes out of my mouth is enough incentive to teach me a valuable lesson. Instead, the master of manipulation redirects. “If only you defend yourself like this every time he …” he points down to Peter, “… opens his stupid fucking mouth to degrade you.”
Damon aimed his arrow, ready to strike a nerve, and he hit dead-on. What he doesn’t know is that Peter could be dead and scattered to the winds, and he’ll still find a way to hurt me.
“Don’t come after me like you know what goes on in my marriage, Damon. Whatever you’ve learned, I can guarantee it would barely even scratch the surface.” His frown deepens when hearing the deceptive hitch in my voice, and for a moment, it looks like he might even care. “So, after the stunt you’ve pulled on me, what makes you any different from him?”
He simultaneously wipes a falling tear with his thumb and cups my face, drawing me closer to his. “Because I’m not the one married to you, and if I were, I wouldn’t be treating you like fucking shit.”
Desperate for solitude, I pull free from his burning touch. “Just please stay away from me.”
“Impossible.”
“Then make it possible,” I beg.
“I don’t think you quite understand what’s happening between you and me, Mae.”
“I understand enough to know that as of this morning, there is nothing happening between us.”
“Really?” Damon cocks a brow in amusement and at my expense. “Because at one o’clock this morning, I had you locked away in my room, all to myself, naked. Half an hour later, I had my face buried between your legs, licking the cum from your pussy. By three o’clock…” he takes my hands and places them over his chest in line with the red claw marks, “… you were sinking your nails in, begging me to keep grinding into you. And by five, so well-fucked you were, you could barely stand on your own two legs. So, tell me again how, as of this morning, there is nothing between us.”
“ Fuck you, Damon.”
“Okay. Let’s go. I told you earlier I’m good for another round.” His gorgeous eyes flicker with challenge when I try to pull free from his tightening grip. “You up for it?”
“No. Because I don’t want you touching me ever again .” Even if I’ll never be able to shake the memory of him.
“Your breath hitches when you lie.” His lips curl into a taunt. “In case you’re wondering why I don’t believe you.”
“ Mae!” Peter bellows. “Are you coming?”
Damon’s lips brush my ear, weakening my resolve. “Tell him you already have, sweetheart. Eight agonizingly beautiful times.”
~
DAMON
“You’re cute when you’re angry.”
Determined to add distance between us, Mae quickens her pace ahead of me as we walk through the pavilion. “Leave me the hell alone.”
“You know as well as I do that’s not going to happen.”
She comes to an abrupt halt and turns on her heel, looking very much like she could maul me to death any second now.
Fuck , she’s beautiful.
“Damon, I swear to God…” An accusatory finger points straight at me. “You have no idea what you’ve…” She trails off when I step close despite the fact we’re in clear view. At this point, I simply don’t care who sees us, her husband included.
Mae’s rage falters as she delivers me a suspicious once-over when I take hold of her arm, my thumb stroking above the elbow where the paint smudge has since been scrubbed off. A warm blush colors her cheeks, but she doesn’t fight me when I pull her against my chest.
“Sweetheart, my cock throbs for you just as much as your pussy aches for me, which means this is not over between us. In fact…” I say, now stepping past her, “… it never will be.”
She swivels sharply to catch me before I go. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying , you may be married to that dumb fuck of a husband, but you’re mine now, and for the record, I’m yours.”
Whatever Mae is about to contest, the words linger on her parted lips.
I take stock of her surprise but choose to keep to myself just how long she’s been on my radar and that what happened between us last night only confirmed what I always suspected—she’s as inexplicably drawn to me as I always have been to her.
There are only three hurdles currently standing in our way.
Peter.
A contract.
And a sex tape.
“I’m pleased we have an understanding.”
“Damon—”
“Glad you could finally make it,” the prick calls out to us, drawing an end to the discussion.
Taking the last step, I join the two men. “What can I say, Peter…” I wink back at Mae, who’s a picture of uncertainty. “Your wife intrigues me.”
“Well, you can borrow her anytime,” he says, not realizing I’ll do more than just borrow.
“I might just take you up on the offer.” I nod to the chair I’ve pulled out which will see Mae sitting next to me. She hesitates, fingers scrunching the loose fabric at her thighs before conceding.
She wants to run.
To see how far away determination can get her before I begin my chase.
Perhaps it’s not only me she wants to escape. The thought doesn’t sit well because, in an hour’s time, he’ll have Mae all to himself again.
Elegantly tucking her knee-length dress as she sits, the sun beams down on Mae’s golden hair, loose waves carefully arranged around her neck and cleavage to hide any trace of me and the night we shared.
“It’s refreshing to discuss my love of art with someone who’s actually in the industry…” I add. “Because my brother, like you, Peter, happens to not share the same appreciation.”
“I hear you.” He finishes buttering his toast before taking a bite of an apple, the excessive crunch and slurp causing Jason to bristle. “My brother, Carlson, and I don’t share much in common.” I watch a peculiar grin form on his face midchew and wonder what’s going through his sick mind. “Except one thing in particular.”
“Yeah, and what’s that?” I’m asking not because I expect an answer but because I want to see his face when he…
“Oh, I’m happy to divulge anything you want to know about me, but that…” he tuts, “… remains locked in the vault, I’m afraid.”
And there it is, that shit-eating grin that widens as he mentally recalls the details of whatever sinister secret he harbors. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about this degenerate fuck, it’s that Peter, the engineer, has been an open book, one with dirt between every page.
An exhaustive tome of indiscretions and inadequacies.
And yet, I have the distinct feeling I’ve not even cracked the spine.
Jason, it seems, shares my sentiment. He may be leaning casually in his seat, ankle hooked over a knee, but he’s observing the confessional of sorts with equal interest. “There’s a bottle of Bruichladdich whiskey upstairs,” he suggests, the veiled threat not lost on me. “At ninety-two percent, it’s bound to spill a few secrets.”
“Thanks.” The moron laughs, wincing from his hangover. “But this is one I’m taking to the grave.”
While Peter is busy adding sugar to his coffee, I meet Jason’s hardened stare, knowing full well what’s traversing through his head.
The challenge is set.
One way or another, the information will be siphoned well before any dirt is sprinkled on his coffin.
Under the table, my knee brushes Mae’s, and she jumps, the sudden action affecting other more delicate areas of her body. With her eyes closed tight, her fingers form a tight grip on the napkin. She shifts from side to side and wriggles in her chair, unable to find comfort.
“Is there a problem?” I tease while sipping my juice. Peter is now regaling a disinterested Jason with some bullshit story, oblivious to the interaction playing out before him.
Shut up, she mouths, looking like she might want to hurt me. My smile grows, and when I scoop fruit salad onto her plate, I make a point of pressing my thigh against hers. She doesn’t startle or pull away, but her sharp intake of breath is all the reaction I need, and seemingly, it’s her call to action.
“So…” Mae starts, clearing her throat. “If the NDA and contract of completion are signed, when will you release the proposal’s details?”
Peter raises his brows in annoyance, his forced laugh making it clear he’ll more than likely skin her alive when they’re home and behind closed doors. “You’ll have to excuse my wife and whatever shitty manners she’s brought back with her this morning.”
“I welcome any questions Mae has, and the answer to that is within the week.”
“Yeah, about that contract of completion,” he says, changing tact. The dumb shit spills coffee on his lap and places the mug back on the table. “Without knowing much about business or engineering, she made a good point last night.”
“Is that right? And what exactly did Mae say?”
I’ve already listened to the recordings, but I want to hear it straight from his mouth.
“Since we don’t know you, why would we sign our life away?”
Beside me, Mae stiffens, and it’s difficult not to hate the situation we’ve sunk her in. She doesn’t deserve any of it, but there’s simply no chance of calling it quits now. “Trust is a gamble, Peter. But Jason and I wouldn’t be taking on the project if we, too, looked to lose out of it.”
“True. But another valid point she made was that if things do go ass up, you won’t be there to help us despite the circumstances under which we are made to sign.”
“Your conditions are the same as ours, Peter. If something goes wrong, we’re all affected.”
“Yeah, signing a contract of completion in such early stages sounds a little extreme when I don’t know the details. I mean…” he looks around the table, “… who in their right mind would sign before knowing what they’re committing to?”
“You’re not dealing with your small-town developers you’re used to,” Jason replies evenly.
“Oh, come on. I wouldn’t say they’re small-town developers, but—”
“Think of it this way,” I interject before Jason goes in for the kill. “Middle Eastern royalty are competitive. It’s all about who has the most grandiose palace, who owns the most resorts, and who has their name on the luxurious shopping malls. They push boundaries and challenge the laws of gravity. They take calculated risks Western developers shy away from. They use us because we make even their craziest construction fantasies come to life. Everything is possible.”
“Seemingly not everything ?” Peter casts his suspicion. “Why not just use the engineers you’ve worked with in the past?”
I lean back in my chair, catching Mae’s cautious sideward glance. “Because what we’re proposing is truly fucking terrifying.”
Peter looks between us, waiting to hear he heard wrong. “Well, that doesn’t fill me with much confidence.”
“It’s not meant to. It is, however, meant to pique your interest.”
“Perhaps…” Jason announces, “… we simply made a mistake in thinking you’re up for the job.”
“Whoa, just back it up a second. You’re both starting to sound like my wife. And yes, this is terrifying, but hear me when I say my interest is piqued.”
I slide my arm along Mae’s backrest, grazing her skin and watching it goose bump. “Good,” I say, smiling at her husband. “Mine is too.”
~
MAE
“Keys!” Peter pats his pockets.
Shit!
I was supposed to have gone home last night, so why would I not have them? Or Peter, for that matter.
“Are you listening?” he snaps. “What did you do with them?”
“I—”
“They’re here,” Jason offers, standing by the table on the outdoor patio. He picks up the car key and a tan handbag. Not the clutch I had last night, but the handbag I’d left in the foyer at home. It’s so far a seamless alibi he’s created that sees me unfurling the finer details in real-time, much to his sick enjoyment.
When Peter crosses the room to collect our belongings, Damon casually seizes the opportunity, gripping my forearm and swinging me around so he can spy on my husband’s movements. His gaze falls to where my dress strap has slipped, and entwining it with his fingers, he lowers it that little bit more to expose my bruised breast.
His sharp inhale is just for me, as is the wild desire in his eyes.
“Damon.”
A thumb grazes my tender nipple, and it hardens immediately. “I like how you say my name, Mae.”
“You’re going to get me in trouble.”
My quiet plea sees those sky-blue irises darken, and he at least has the decency to right the strap. “There’s a lot of blanks I need filled in regarding this thing you two call a marriage.”
“Why? So you can use that against me?”
His stare floats over my shoulder, where he considers my husband with disdain. When he returns to me, it’s with equal part concern.
“It’s so I can sleep at night knowing you can too.”
An irregular beat grips my heart, and Damon registers my welling tears as if he’ll care for each one that falls.
He isn’t looking for dirt. He’s seeking confirmation— details for what he already suspects.
“You can’t just say things like that,” I quietly object because a lump is lodging in my throat.
Placing a finger under my chin, he tilts my face so there’s no hiding, his thumb grazing my bottom lip. “Remember what I said earlier, sweetheart, because I meant every word.”
A lot has been said, but we both know what he’s referring to.
You’re mine. And for the record, I’m yours.
“But there’s still business that needs to be done, Mae.” His low voice takes on a command. “So, no more words of wisdom for your husband. Understand?”
I nod, dread balling in the pit of my stomach.
“I want to hear it from those sweet lips of yours.”
“I understand.”
Damon, daring to be caught, kisses my temple, lingering as if he could easily take it further, with or without our audience. “Good girl,” he murmurs, sending a light shiver across my skin.
Seconds later, he’s gone, and the loss of him is immediately felt. Cheeks ablaze, I turn and watch Damon bypass Peter and Jason, making his way through the pavilion and down the stone steps.
Then he strips off the towel.
Before I know it, I’m biting my bottom lip. His rock-hard cock seen only from my angle, is eager for another four hours of debauchery. Muscles rippling under the blazing sun, he dives into the pool, all power and grace.
“Just think of all the women that guy must fuck.” Peter sighs when he rejoins me.
“I’d rather not.” My reply reaches his ears despite me thinking it was all in my head.
“Oh, come on. Lighten up. We both know they’d be all over him like bitches in heat.”