Chapter 30
My heart is racingand my legs feel heavy as I back away from the locked door. Everything is happening so fast and none of it makes sense. Who would break into the parlor? There’s nothing valuable here, and as far as I know, there isn’t a high demand for ink and needles on the black market. And it’s late but it’s not that late. Surely, there are still plenty of people walking the streets who would’ve seen the intruder break in or, at a minimum, heard the sound of breaking glass. But the intruders didn’t care and neither did anyone else. They were determined. It makes me wonder if they aren’t here to steal something, but rather for another reason. For Damon? For me?
Before I pass out, I move to Damon’s chair, sit, and slip on his leather jacket. I bring my hand to my chest and try to control my breathing. Could someone have found me? I’ve been so careful, but it’s not impossible. I’ve been in New Orleans for months now, and with my new social media account for my store, someone could have recognized me and know exactly where to find me. God, Ana, how could you be so stupid? And now Damon is out there with them. And if it is someone from the mob or with ties to the criminal underworld, he is woefully unprepared. What if something happens to him?
My eyes dart across Damon’s desk. Finding a landline, I grab the phone with plans to call my brother. I hesitate, knowing that if I tell Aidan I’m in trouble, he’ll come down here with his men, guns blazing, and Damon will be brought into this world whether he wants to be or not. Perhaps, more than that, I’ll be pulled back in. Because even if the intruders aren’t related to the mob or another competing organization but my brother is seen coming to my rescue, my identity will be exposed anyway.
An unexpected sound draws my attention and sends an eerie chill crawling up my body. My eyes flit to the locked door, though only for a second before the monitor on Damon’s computer awakens and I see several camera screens split across the monitor and a warning flashing in bright red states Gunshots Detected. The noise seemed too soft to be a gunshot, but as Damon comes into view, standing over two dead bodies, I know it was. The phone slips from my fingers as a cold sweat follows the eerie chill. What do I do? What can I do? Do I call the police? No. No, Damon will get in trouble. Once again, I consider calling my brother. Though as I take in the scene displayed on the cameras, I fear he already knows.
The men who now lie facedown in pools of their own blood wear suits—tan suits. It could be a coincidence, but as I look closer, I suspect it isn’t. Tan is the color suit my brother’s top soldiers wear, and these men just so happen to also have the mark of the Irish mob on their hands. Oh no! What has Damon done? My brother will kill him if— It’s then that I notice the men are not what has Damon’s attention. There’s an open cardboard box sitting on the floor at Damon’s feet. He stares down at it, his pistols still gripped tightly in each hand. He’s angry. I can tell by the way the muscles in his back contract. What’s in the box, Damon? Damon looks forward then as if reconciling whatever he’s seen. The muscles in his hands and arms twitch in response.
I feel myself go pale as numbness works its way through my legs. This wasn’t an accident or coincidence or random break in, was it? A lump forms in my throat as I consider the possibilities. Those men could’ve come here to deliver me a package from my brother since he wouldn’t have wanted them to know where I live and couldn’t be seen delivering it himself. But if they were on a friendly mission, they wouldn’t have broken in. No. My brother has always kept me out of mob matters, but it doesn’t take a genius to put the pieces of this scene together. Those men work for my brother, and they were here to deliver a not-so-friendly message. What and why, I don’t know. What I do know is that Damon was ready for it. He…he moved so quickly, so purposefully—the hidden guns, the way he positioned himself between me and the door, the authority in his voice as he told me to get to his office—he wasn’t afraid in the slightest. He was prepared. So prepared that he didn’t even tell me to call 911. It’s like he knew there wouldn’t be time or a need for it, because anyone breaking into his shop must be here for a reason that the cops can’t know about.
Damon sets his guns on the coffee table then and finds his cell phone among our discarded clothes. Brinkley sticks to his side and I let out a sigh of relief. How could I have forgotten him? Though my relief is short-lived as Damon makes a call. It’s quick, too quick. And he’s calm. Too calm for someone who just killed two people. Then again, those aren’t his first kills, are they? I think back on the drawings in his sketchbook, and no, I don’t mean the ones of his mother and abusive father. I mean the other ones. As Damon places his phone back on the coffee table and quickly dresses, I sink back into the chair, speechless.
I thought it was just my paranoia or a projection of my own secrets for me to ever consider he could be involved with the mob, or Mafia, or something like it. But now it’s almost confirmed. “Damon, who are you?” I whisper. Does he know who I am? Has he known the entire time? My lip quivers and my throat feels raw as I fear the answer is yes. “No, no, no, it can’t be,” I say to myself as my emotion threatens to consume me.
Damon used to call me princess almost with a tone of disgust. And then he started calling me Ana without ever hearing anyone else use that name, the nickname only my brother and closest friends use. And that night he walked me home, he knew where I lived without me even telling him. I bought his excuse because it made sense. Everything has always made sense from him randomly showing up at the music venue I was at to him sneaking in my favorite snacks with all the others. Perhaps that’s because he’s had plenty of time to craft his lies, his covers, and to study me. The one thing that never made sense is why he hated me in the beginning without even knowing me. And after tonight, there is only one logical answer—my brother.
Aidan chose this building for my shop for a reason, and he never would’ve if he didn’t approve of the man downstairs, the man perfectly positioned to be my greatest threat or my greatest protector. Why did I not think of this before? They must’ve come to some sort of arrangement before I even arrived, but that doesn’t mean Damon was or is happy about it. Not only would Damon not have killed Aidan’s men if they were on good terms, but when I first got here, Damon couldn’t stand that I was his tenant. It was almost like he didn’t have a choice in the matter. He was such an asshole for so many weeks. It’s like he wanted me to give up and go somewhere else, as if that would mean he was free, free from whatever contract my brother has him under. He hated me because of my brother, because of my blood. But then everything changed. Or did it?
If Damon knows who I am and the world I belong to, that he clearly belongs to too, then he knows how things work. I’m meant to be a virgin, a bargaining piece for my father, now brother, to use for some grand alliance. It’s why I always kept that night in college a secret and one of the main reasons why I wanted this opportunity to live a private life in New Orleans for as long as I could. Because, deep down, I’ve always known that there will come a day when my brother is forced to put me to use. What if when Damon couldn’t get rid of me, he resorted to a different mission?
My heart feels as if it’s being ripped from my chest as fresh tears stream down my face. What if Damon has been using me for weeks to get back at my brother, to ruin his reputation and mine? Damon didn’t know that I wasn’t a virgin until after I let him into my home that night. And even though I told him before we crossed too many lines, no one else knew the truth, and without a physical exam, there was no proof. To ruin my brother, Damon would need proof. All that time he wouldn’t let me touch him, that could’ve just been manipulation to make me want him more. And right when he felt me slipping away, he made the exception.
I don’t want to believe it. Maybe I’m jumping to extreme conclusions, but it’s clear Damon has been lying to me. I was too caught up in my emotions earlier to think clearly. But there’s no way Damon could have had time to begin a sketch and dress Brinkley to match my dress and follow me to Brennan’s. He made the decision to show up at Brennan’s long after I left, and he didn’t follow me, he tracked me there—just like he’s been doing this entire time. And if I’m right about him using me against my brother, then it’s because he knew tonight was his last chance to fuck me.
“Oh my God!” I bring my hand to my chest as if it will soothe the ache. It doesn’t. Damon told me everything I needed to hear to let my guard down. And then he just so happened to do it, do me, in his tattoo parlor in full view of the surveillance cameras. Now he has everything he needs to ruin my brother or, at the very least, rid himself of me and this contract. In all of this, my heart was nothing more than collateral damage. Damon Dupont doesn’t love me. He never did. There’s no telling where his lies start, but that was the last one he will ever tell me.
As I spiral, shocked and horrified by Damon’s deceit, my heartbeat quickens and I feel short of breath. I hunch over as my cries tear from me. I loved him, I— How could he do this to me? How could I fall for it? I couldn’t give a shit about Mafia or mob politics or what this means for my brother or even my marriage potential. Fuck that! And fuck Aidan too!But right now, all I can think about is Damon. Aidan going behind my back doesn’t surprise me. It’s more surprising that I didn’t figure it out sooner. But Damon? I trusted him and he broke my trust and my heart. He made me feel like the most special woman in the world, and it was all a lie.
“It was all a lie,” I say. My voice sounds just as broken as I feel.
“Anastasia?” I hear Damon call from just outside the door. “Anastasia, it’s alright now. You can open the door.”
I shake my head, even though he can’t see me. “Nothing is alright,” I whisper. “Nothing is alright.”
“Anastasia?” Hearing my cries, concern filters into Damon’s voice. The doorknob shakes as he tries to open it to no avail. “Anastasia, is everything okay? Ana, I promise you, those men have been handled. They can’t hurt you.”
“You hurt me!” I yell. I watch Damon via the security cameras as he lowers his hand from the doorknob to his side. He stands tall yet wears a look of defeat.
I want nothing more than to leave this place and never return. But doing so would require facing him, and right now I can’t. I’m naked, save for his leather jacket, cold, hungry, and heartbroken. Right now the door between us is the only thing keeping me from completely falling apart or killing him with my bare hands. Perhaps both.
“You found the folder, didn’t you?” Folder? What folder? I quickly wipe the tears from my eyes and spot a file labeled A.C. atop his desk. What the? I open it to find everything except my lease document. There’s a photo of me and even Brinkley, more information about me than the diary I had when I was twelve, and then handwritten notes of additional information. It’s Aidan’s handwriting.
My lips part and my eyes widen as I receive confirmation for my assumptions, at least half of them. Damon and Aidan have been working together behind my back. But…but if Aidan sent his men here to come after Damon and Damon killed them, then does that mean something went wrong? Does that mean I’m no longer safe with Damon?
“Anastasia, let me explain. I know you feel betrayed right now, but I promise you, there is an explanation.” I pinch my eyes closed as I remember the last promise he made me. He said he would spend the rest of his life making sure I never regret loving him or the night we just spent together. I don’t want to believe that was a lie. I don’t want to look back on every moment we’ve shared through the bloodstained lens of a vendetta. But right now I’m too blinded by rage, by heartbreak, to consider anything else.
As my grip tightens around the folder, threatening to rip it to shreds, I consider my next move carefully. Do I give Damon a chance to explain himself? Would I believe him even if I did? Or do I run for fear he’s going to use me against my brother? But if I do that, then the only place for me to run to is my brother. And he’s tied for last on my list of people I’d like to see right now alongside Damon. And if I go to Aidan, then any semblance of normality I’ve attained here in New Orleans is gone, and Damon is as good as dead for murdering his men.
As fresh tears fall from my eyes and a loud cry rips through me, I have no idea what to do or who to trust.