Chapter 14 The Replacement
THE REPLACEMENT
EMERY
I snuck back to my room while Quin was still sleeping.
I wanted to stay. I really did. I wanted to wake up in the comfort and warmth of his embrace.
But I couldn’t. If he woke up alone, perhaps he’d think last night was a dream.
That I didn’t cry in his arms. That I didn’t show him just how truly broken I am.
It’s not his job to fix me, to put the pieces back together, but I can’t help it.
Quinton brings out that side of me. A side that I prefer stays hidden.
It’s difficult, though. One look into his dreamy blue eyes, and I melt.
I lose control of my shields, my anchors, everything that keeps me together.
Falling apart should be terrifying, but with Quin, it almost feels safe.
As I head out the bedroom door to join everyone for breakfast, I sigh, flicking my gaze heavenward.
Safety never lasts long, does it?
“Well, good morning, Miss Jones,” Damon coos, his arm wrapped tightly around Maya’s waist as she offers me a sweet smile. “You look a little tired.” He pouts, a knowing glow in his irises. “Didn’t sleep well?”
I subtly shake my head, scowling at the various hickeys poking out from the turtleneck wrapped around Maya’s neck. Her expression tightens and she adjusts the wool fabric, snapping her gaze to the hardwood floor.
“Can we talk?” I ask, clipped. “Alone?”
“Sure.” Damon grins, giving Maya a lingering kiss on the cheek before sending her down the stairs. He crosses his arms. “Well? Talk.”
I scowl at him. Cocky little fuck. “Not here.” Glancing around at the various suites and doors on the floor, I stop at a sign that reads: supply closet. I don’t need this conversation reaching the wrong set of ears. “Come here.”
Pinching the sleeve of his pullover, I drag him to the unlocked closet and shove him inside, the automatic lights flickering on.
“Oh, I like this,” Damon hums, brow perked up with lewd intentions. “Should I take my pants off now? Or…?” Gritting my teeth, I give a fairly powerful jab in the kidney. He winces. “Easy now, mami. Let me pick a safe word at least.”
I cross my arms. “This isn’t funny, Damon.”
“I beg to differ,” he coos. “I find this all quite entertaining.”
“You need to stop,” I say with unwavering conviction. “I know what you’re trying to do, and you need to stop. It’s gross, Damon. And it’s unfair to Maya.”
Damon can’t rein in his smirk. It’s so fucking big, I fear his face might spit in half. “Unfair to Maya?” He feigns ignorance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I glower at him. “I understand that you’re mad, Damon. That I’ve hurt you and you’re trying to hurt me back. But using Maya as some sort of a revenge sex doll is not okay.”
The last thing we need is another broken heart.
“Using her?” Damon scoffs, masking his true emotions.
“Trust me, Maya isn’t complaining. If anything…
” His dark gaze flits across my chest, and he licks his lips.
“I’m not using her enough.” His eyes flick up to mine, cold and dangerous.
“I don’t think this little intervention of yours has anything to do with Maya’s feelings.
I think that you…” He has the audacity to drag the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip.
And just like that, my body lights up. Bastard.
“I think you’re jealous.” His jaw ticks.
“No. I know you’re jealous. Because despite your best efforts to replace me…
” He drags his hand down my sweater, and so agonizingly slow, caressing my stiff nipples.
Fucking hell. “You know Quinton could never make you feel the way I do.”
My breath hitches, and it takes all my willpower to push his hand away.
“You keep saying that,” I whisper, forcing my organs to simmer the fuck down.
“That I’m replacing you but…” The truth gnaws at me, and I wish he could understand just how complicated of a situation we’re in.
“It’s not that simple, Damon. I didn’t pick him over you. ”
“But you did,” he says, shoulders stiffening. “I made one stupid fucking mistake, and you left me. Just left. You didn’t give me a chance to explain myself. You didn’t care. You left, Emery, the first chance you got.”
He's right. I did leave him. Without a second thought. I ran. Always running. A coward then and a coward now.
"Damon, I never wanted to replace you," I say, my tone shaky. "I didn't leave with Quinton as a way of getting back at you. As a way to hurt you. It was never about that."
He stares at me, searching my solemn expression for the truth. "Then why, Emery? Why him?"
I close my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. "Sometimes an explanation doesn’t solve the problem, Damon. Sometimes it makes it worse.” I glance up at him, praying he hears the honesty in my words. “You’re irreplaceable, Damon. That’s all I can say.”
His reaction startles me.
With a fist full of confusion and fury, he slams his knuckles into the wall, his body vibrating as he growls.
“Don’t fucking say that to me, Emery. Don’t tell me that you still care.
” Whipping his head toward me, I swear I can see a devilish shadow growing behind him as he adds, “I don’t know what Quinton’s done or said to make you push me away, but I won’t bow out that easily.
” Aggressively, he rakes his fingers through my hair, yanking my head forward.
He rests his lips against my forehead, voice raw and raspy as he whispers, “You can’t run away from destiny, Emery.
And you and I? We are bound to each other.
” He pulls away, breathing heavily as his eyes flick toward my lips.
“And don’t you dare tell me that I’m wrong. ”
We are bound to each other. His past and my present are forever woven together in a twisted tapestry.
One he will never know. It would kill him.
It would confirm all his devastating theories.
I won’t do that to him. He’s hurt now. But he will heal.
This pain is nothing compared to what he would feel if he knew the truth. That he took a life.
“We should go,” I whisper timidly. “They’re probably waiting for us…”
Without protesting, Damon twists the doorknob and we stumble out of the closet. Directly into the path of Sophie. My face pales.
“Hmm…” she hums, lips pursed as she studies our wary features.
“Breakfast is almost over. Better get down there quickly.” Her scrutinizing gaze causes my spine to seize up.
“We’re all heading up to the mountain today.
You will join us this time, yeah?” She briefly glances at Damon, tight-lipped.
“Unless of course there’s a reason you wish to keep your distance. ”
I swallow. “I’ll be there.”
“Lovely,” she says, emotionless.
And then she walks away. Damon follows.
But both of their hostile energies stick with me, and I no longer feel like eating.
The resort is eerily quiet for peak tourist season, with only lingering guests from the fundraiser privy to the pristine mountains.
Perhaps the Marquis’s booked the entire resort.
I haven’t asked but it’s a possibility. We wait near the base of the lifts, my palms sweating under the thick winter gloves.
The chill from the light wind is almost welcome.
Damon stands several yards away with Maya, his presence casting a dark shadow over everything. My thoughts. My wants. My resolve. I glance toward Quinton and Charles, and my belly twists. Everyone seems preoccupied. Everyone but Sophie.
Her calculating stare is almost frightening, and when she begins to stride toward me, I genuinely think about running away.
“Shall we ride up together?” Though it comes out as a question, I know it’s a demand. I nod, putting on a polite smile to hide my unease. She motions to the approaching lift. "Don’t hesitate. Just sit.”
I’m sure there’s a double meaning in there somewhere.
Anxiety stirs inside me as we plop down on the chair lift, and begin the long and awkward ascend into the clouds. The views from up here are breathtaking. But I can't appreciate it. Not at all.
Sophie turns to face me. "Let's talk about your relationships, Emery. With my brother and Damon."
No foreplay. Straight to the point.
I shift uncomfortably in the cold metal seat. "I—”
Sophie's stern expression doesn't waver. “If the next sentence that comes out of your mouth even resembles a lie, I have no qualms with lifting this bar and pushing you out.”
My eyes widen at her threat. If anyone were to look at Sophie, they’d expect nothing but a sweet, innocent woman. Oh, how appearances can be deceiving.
“What do you want to know?” I ask meekly, dreading the length of this lift.
“What is your relationship with Damon?”
I swallow. “It’s hard to explain.”
“Try.”
How am I supposed to explain my relationship to Sophie when I can hardly explain it to myself?
“Well…” I can’t think too long. I genuinely think she’d act on her threat, and I don’t wish to die today.
“Damon pursued me romantically before we started working together. And then when he hired me, we…we became physically involved. And then… And then emotionally. He, uh,” I wince.
“He proposed to me about two weeks ago. I-I didn’t give him an answer.
And then I learned something about him, and so I-I left. ”
“With my brother,” she adds, tone sour.
“Yes,” I whisper, ashamed of myself. “With your brother.”
“And now you’re…involved with Quinton?” she asks. “In the same fashion as Damon?”
“Not the same.” My response tumbles out before I can vet it. “It’s not the same.”
She frowns. “Elaborate.”
I sigh, conflicted. "Quin… He started out as my friend. And now…it’s more than that. I-I don’t know how to explain what we have but it’s…” I finally admit it to myself. “It’s more than friendship. It’s more than…sex.”
“So, you’re fucking both of them.” Surprisingly, there’s no judgment in her tone, only matter-of-factness. “I see.” She pauses, studying me intently. “Do you love them, Emery? Both of them?”
Her brazen question knocks the wind out of me. Love?! She’s asking me about love? What does that stupid word even mean? It's a concept that has never held a straightforward definition for me. And now, it threatens to crush me, kill me, every part of me.
"I-I care for them, Sophie. Deeply."
Her lips curl into a thoughtful expression. "But do you love them, Emery? Love them enough to make a choice?”
A depressing darkness settles over my shoulders, my tongue, as I whisper, "I don’t think I’m capable of loving someone. Anyone.”
“You can lie to yourself all you want, Emery,” she says softly. “But that doesn’t make it true.”
I frown at her. “I don’t—”
Sophie sighs. “For such an intelligent woman, you sure are daft sometimes.” As the top of the mountain approaches us, she clicks her tongue.
“If you don’t love them, Emery, then leave.
Leave this resort. Leave this country. Leave them alone.
” Her sharp gaze slices through me. “They’re not your little toys. ”
Leave.
She’s right.
Maybe I should.
I should go home to nothing.
For nothing is what I deserve.