Chapter Forty-Seven Damion
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
“Sleeping in the bed you made can feel pretty disgusting.”
—Remington
Damion
“Look at that jackass,” I said as we watched Liam standing in the center of a circle of six girls. He was just one of those guys who everyone liked, who people gravitated toward.
Hell, even I liked him. Even though I suspected he still didn’t like me.
“And not one of them is even his date,” Julia said, laughing. “I don’t know where Lana is.”
“She’s over there next to Beckett and Donovan,” I said.
“I still can’t believe they came together.” Julia was smiling as she looked at them, and I wondered how I hadn’t fallen for her the second we met, when she’d been jumping for that ridiculous wallet.
“Listen, I should probably make up some elaborate scheme to get you into a darkened hallway, but the way you look makes it impossible for me to formulate plans.”
“Oh really,” she said, smiling and blinking fast like she was embarrassed by the compliment.
Which was too damn bad, because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut when it came to how she looked that night.
“I do have to say, though, as good as you look tonight,” I said, “I still think about the way you looked in Springfield. In your backyard. When you came out the patio door with your wet hair and you were wearing that stupid Big Ten football jersey. I swear to God you were walking perfection.”
Her eyebrows went together. “You think I looked better in my old jeans and no makeup?”
I lowered my head and pressed a kiss to the side of her throat because I was drunk on her. “You looked so incredibly Julia that it took my breath away.”
“Are you kissing my neck in public?” she said, but her breathy voice suggested she wasn’t complaining.
“My apologies,” I said, breathing in her perfume. “I should stop?”
“Definitely not, but maybe we should find that dark hallway you mentioned,” she said, stepping closer to me and grabbing my hand.
“We definitely should,” I said, but as we started walking toward the unknown areas of the venue, I heard a commotion.
More specifically, I heard my dad’s voice.
My dad’s raised voice.
I wanted to run away from that tone I knew all too well, but Julia was already turning to look in that direction. “What the hell?”
And not just Julia, but nearly everyone in the venue was craning their necks to see what the disturbance was. One by one, people started inching toward the tense scene. Whispering to each other, eyebrows raised as they held their glasses of champagne.
My gut was twisting as my eyes searched for my dad, who was with my mom and—
Oh no.
Shit. Shit SHIT!
Who was with my mom and Julia’s parents. And they were arguing.
Loudly.
Fuck. No.
Julia charged over there and I followed, panicking because there was no way this could be good.
“What does this even mean?” Julia’s dad said to my father. He was holding a packet of documents that looked legal, and he shoved it in my dad’s face. “You can’t seriously be suing us.”
Fuck fuck fuck.
“We can, and we are,” my mother said, lifting her chin. “You might want to lower your voice, Clint, before everyone here knows what you really are.”
Too late for that, Mom, thanks to you and your loud voice.
I was going to be sick.
“Again, what the hell does that even mean?” Julia’s dad said, louder this time.
“It means that we know what you did. You met a rich old man with dementia—my uncle—and you bilked him out of everything and moved into his house. But what you didn’t count on was the fact that we weren’t going to let you get away with it.”
“Wait—Remington was your uncle?” Julia’s mom said, her face draped in shock.
I swear to God I heard a roaring in my ears as I looked at Julia and watched a million thoughts going through her head. She stood there in silence as my parents laid out all their facts, as her parents refuted them.
“What?” Julia’s voice trembled as she spoke.
God help me.
She walked closer to my parents. “You are related to Remi. To Lou?” she asked them.
It was like her brain couldn’t handle the information slapping her in the face. I could see her slowly putting the pieces together, my gut clenching as she lined everything up.
And then she looked at me. With those eyes. Those amber eyes.
“Damion, did you know?”
I’d been punched before, but this was worse. I didn’t want to lie to her, but I also didn’t want to lose her. I stood there, frozen, incapable of formulating any words or thoughts to defuse or contribute to this situation. “Did I know what?”
You’re a coward, Damion.
“You did,” she said, her eyes moving all over my face. “So you knew the whole time who I was, that my family—”
“What is going on here?” Chantel Chattingham said, stepping into the middle of the group like she belonged there.
She had her responsible adult face on, but her eyes were glowing like she was excited to jump into the center of this scandal.
“This is taking away from the children at the ball, so let’s get it together. What happened?”
My mother used every ounce of dramatic training she’d had as a girl when she said, “As it turns out, the Lowells are not what they seem.”
I grabbed Julia’s elbow, wanting to pull her away from all this, because I knew in that moment that she was about to be pulled away from me.
Forever.
Don’t leave me.
“So you’re Lou’s nephew,” Julia said quietly, her eyebrows furrowed.
“Great-nephew,” I admitted softly, reaching for her. But she was backing away. Away from me.
Please don’t let me lose her.
“And you knew the whole time,” she said, blinking fast. “Like since the day we met.”
“Yes,” I said, my entire body frozen with panic as she looked at me like she didn’t know me. Like she didn’t like me.
The suspicion was back in her gaze and she was watching me the way she used to, like she didn’t trust a word I said.
Still, I said, “But I didn’t—”
“Oh my God, when we went out to Lou’s cabin and I was telling you all about him and crying, you didn’t think to mention you knew the guy I was crying over?”
God, why hadn’t I? “I was going to, but then—”
“The tutoring?” Her eyes grew large, worry filling them with fear.
I shook my head. “The tutoring? What do you—”
“Was that part of your plan? You parents’ plan?” she asked, her pitch rising. “To get you in our house?”
“No,” I said. Don’t lump me in with them. “It wasn’t like that. You need to let me explain.”
“I don’t need to do anything,” she said, biting her lower lip like she was trying to hold back emotion. “When did y—”
And then she gasped when those amber eyes, starting to glaze with tears, landed on the folder in her father’s hands. I followed her gaze to see that stapled onto a document was the photograph I’d stolen from the store.
Along with the photo of the information I’d found on their legal pad my first day tutoring her.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Oh my God, you gave that to your parents?” she said, looking at me with wide eyes, like I was a stranger. “You stole that picture and gave it to your parents? Why, Damion?”
“He found a photo that shows your family taking advantage of ours,” my dad said, looking proud of himself.
“It’s a photo of him smiling with us,” her mom snapped. “What are you even talking about?”
“No, I swear to God I didn’t!” I said, panicking as I realized just how shitty this looked.
“You used her, you dick,” Liam said. “You were planning to from the very start.”
My breath got stuck in my chest when I saw Julia blinking back tears.
“That’s a picture of information from our house. A house that you had access to because you were Julia’s tutor,” Liam continued as my eyes begged him to stop. “And then you fucking flew to Nebraska and took advantage of the fact that she liked you in order to steal from us.”
I had no idea how my dad got that photo—he must’ve taken it out of my room—or the picture I’d taken in the kitchen—holy shit, he’d gone through my phone.
Of course he had.
I looked at my dad’s victorious smirk and I wanted to hit him. I wanted to hit him and I wanted to rage, because what kind of a father fucking did that?
“No, it wasn’t like that—I didn’t give it to them!”
“You were the only person who could’ve grabbed that picture,” Julia said, her cheeks pink, her eyes glassy.
“I was going to give it back,” I said, and as I desperately looked for any rescue, my eyes settled on Bernard’s face.
“Tell her, Bernard,” I said. “You know me! Tell her that I wouldn’t—”
“Oh my God, you too?” Julia said, and it broke my heart how hurt she looked as she stared into the face of the most honest man I’d ever met. “Bernie, you knew?”
Bernard looked down at the floor.
“Oh honey,” Chantel said, smiling and looking around at the rather large crowd that had surrounded the public argument. “There are no secrets in Gardenwood; you should know that by now.”
“Julia, listen to me,” I said.
But those eyes were full of tears, and she just shook her head before turning and running off, the crowd parting as she sprinted out of the ballroom.
No!
“Wait! Jules!” I moved to go after her, but Liam grabbed my arm and jerked me back.
“Let go, I have to stop her!” I said, seconds from hitting him.
He looked murderous as he scowled and said, “You don’t get to stop her, you—”
“The fuck I don’t,” I said, ripping my arm free and taking off in the direction she’d run.
I needed to get to her, to find her and make her understand. Everything around me—the stone walls, the candles, the medieval artwork—felt dark and foreboding as I ran as fast as I could.
Through the cavernous hallways, down the echoing stairs.
Away from the crowd and into the darkness.
And then… then I saw red.
A dark hallway to the right, a blip of red in the corner.
Oh, oh God.
She was facing the wall, her arms wrapped around her body, her forehead resting against the cold stone.
My heart felt like it was being ripped out of my chest when I heard her hiccup out a sob—she’s crying, she should never be crying—but it got worse when I heard what she was chanting under her breath.