Chapter 32
Thirty-Two
Damien
“You’re a menace to society.”
Blair, who is running at my side, dodges neatly to the right to avoid the spank I try to land on her ass.
“You’re so sweet. Thank you for saying that.
It means a lot,” she pants, beaming at me as we round another corner of the trail, our shoes crunching over the thin layer of packed-down snow.
“But you should consider it, because there are at least three major benefits.”
I find myself grinning, too. “Do tell, princess. What benefits are there to me fucking you over your father’s desk, specifically?”
Her pace is slowing, likely because she is using her breath for talking rather than exercise, but I don’t call her on it. I’m in too good a mood.
She holds up one finger. “One, I’m a huge fan of you fucking me over things. Super hot.”
“A great time for all parties involved,” I acknowledge with a chuckle. “And the second?”
Another finger rises, and her smile turns vicious. “He would hate it. Obviously.”
“Obviously.”
We round another bend in the trail, and Blair scowls when she sees I’ve had the groundskeeper clear the long trail back to the house, but not the shorter, more direct route.
This way takes us through the woods bordering the property and past the gates, where we can finish our run on Thornhurst’s main drive.
The minor storm that swept through last week was just the beginning, and only six days into December, the grounds are already covered in a few inches of snow.
I made sure Blair was properly equipped with winter gear, and we’ve so far been able to keep to our routine of running one day and swimming the next, but it’s only a matter of time before the trails become inaccessible.
I haven’t told her about the treadmills scheduled to be delivered on Friday.
“And the third?” I prompt, as apparently exhausting her ability to run and talk, Blair slows to a walk. Following her lead, I shoot her a halfhearted, warning look. “Your muscles are going to cool down.”
As if to illustrate the point, a light wind moves through the trees, sending a flurry of snowflakes down around us.
“The third is that it’s an excellent way to keep me warm,” Blair teases breathlessly, even as she picks up the pace again. “Practical.”
Before she can get far, I lurch forward, catching her gloved hand in mine, and pull her into my chest, meeting her lips in a brief kiss.
We’ve already fucked once today, hence the late start time for our run this morning, but the taste of her alone has my mind wandering to when I’ll have her in my bed again.
Thankfully, that time will be tonight.
“Come on.” I smack her ass playfully and draw back so we can set off again, grinning. “Only a mile to go.”
Blair groans. “Curse you, Demonan—Demonician?” She screws up her face, trying again. “Demonian? Damn, I’m getting rusty. What’s a good conjugation of Damien and Demon?”
“Surely you can’t expect me to do the heavy lifting on this one.”
“Dameon? No. What is wrong with me today? I’m better than this!”
“You’ll get there, princess. I have full confidence in you.”
“Do you know what would make me feel better?”
I have a feeling I know where this is going but play along anyway. “What’s that?”
Puffing, Blair glances over at me, wearing a breathless, mischievous smile. “If you fuck me over my father’s desk.”
This time, the spank makes her squeal, picking up the pace to get away from me as we cross the forest’s edge, running through the narrow, makeshift trail that will intersect with the front drive. My attention is on her, and I’m not paying attention to our surroundings. Not the way I should be.
We’re nearly directly in front of the gate, when I realize—too fucking late—that we aren’t alone.
“Good morning!” calls a man’s voice, and Blair and I both stop dead, staring at the familiar white sedan which is idling outside the gates.
It’s the same reporter who came by, asking about Blair, shortly after I started work here. He’s dressed in a thick coat and woolen hat, leaning against the hood of his car, with an eager glint in his eye as he looks at the woman beside me.
My heart drops, and automatically, I step in front of her, blocking her from view. “You’re trespassing. Leave immediately.”
He pushes off the car, drawing closer to the gates. “Good to see you, Miss Porter! Funny, when I was here before, your friend here told me you weren’t home. Glad to see you’ve made it back, safe and sound!”
“I am not fucking around here,” I snarl, reaching behind me to grasp Blair’s arm, ensuring she doesn’t move. “This is private property, and if you’re not gone in the next—”
“Not to worry, I’ll be out of your hair in no time,” he assures me easily, apparently not the least bit bothered by my threats. “Before I go, though, I was wondering if Miss Porter would like to comment on the search warrant which was executed this morning.”
Before I can stop her, Blair pulls her arm free, stepping out from behind me. “Search warrant?” she demands, staring at the man.
His smirk widens to a triumphant grin. “At Porter Capital. I would have thought you’d have been informed, as a shareholder and sister of the current CEO.”
“Blair,” I hiss, reaching out to touch her shoulder. “Let’s go inside and figure out what’s going on. Don’t say anything to him.”
Too intent on what he’s just told her, she ignores this, brushing me away as she draws closer to the gate. “What were they looking for?” she calls, a tremor in her voice.
“Your guess is as good as mine, Miss Porter. There seems to be a lot you aren’t being informed of, though.” He sighs, pretending to be sympathetic. “I have a source in your father’s inner circle who told me you weren’t even told about the threats? That can’t be true, though, can it?”
Blair opens her mouth, eyes wide, but again, I step between her and the man, this time facing her. “We need to go inside,” I tell her urgently, my adrenaline flooding my system, as my greatest priority in this situation—removing her from this man’s vicinity—rises to critical status.
Blinking, she pulls her gaze from the place beyond my shoulder, looking at me directly at last. “What threats?”
It’s difficult to breathe.
She shouldn’t have found out like this.
“Please, Blair. He’s a slimy tabloid reporter, trying to get you to say something he can spin. Let’s go inside, and I’ll tell you what he’s talking about.”
Vapor from her breath curls through the space between us, uneven and shaky. “Okay,” she agrees at last, but the look on her face…
My relief is minimal.
Pressing my hand to the center of Blair’s back, I turn her toward the house, throwing a filthy look over my shoulder at the man. “I have your plate numbers, and I’m calling the police.”
He gives me a thumbs up, grinning.
My heart is pounding as we walk up the drive, not exchanging a word. Even if it doesn’t bode well, I’m relieved to have a moment to think this through, to disseminate my reasoning for not telling her into something resembling a defense.
It wasn’t reasonable, though.
At first, I’d been doing my job and listening to the orders of the man who signs my paychecks.
Later, the threats were gone, and—because my feelings for her obviously hold more sway than my logic in this situation—I didn’t want to scare her. Maybe I would have told her eventually, but it isn’t the sort of thing one just drops into a conversation.
When we’ve gotten farther from the gates, and a glance backward confirms the reporter has gone, Blair stops dead, rounding on me. “What was he talking about?”
I swallow, staring back at her. “It’s important to me that you first know you are safe and always were. Even before we were together.”
Exhaling sharply, Blair’s expression tightens. “Damien. I swear to god, if you don’t tell me what is going on—”
“When I met with your father about the job, he informed me that after those photographs of you were published, the campaign office started receiving some extremely unsettling communications. There were also some sent here, to Thornhurst, as well as your parents’ Wyngate residence.”
She blinks, panic shining in her eyes now. “What kind of communications?”
My stomach churns as I remember the few I had read before turning them over to the police.
“The kind you would expect, given the fact that tens of thousands of strangers saw your half-naked body.” Blair doesn’t respond, but hugs herself, swaying slightly on the spot.
“Your father didn’t feel you were in a place to handle that kind of information. ”
Her lower lip trembles. “You mean he couldn’t trust me not to react emotionally and possibly embarrass him. And you agreed.”
“No,” I plead, frantic now. “No, Blair. I wanted you to be informed, but it wasn’t my call. They stopped quickly, though, and I didn’t want—”
“To trust me?” she suggests with a wild laugh, tears shining in her eyes. “Of course not. I’m an idiot, right? An irresponsible, spoiled brat?”
My own words hit me squarely in the chest, knocking the oxygen from my lungs. It feels like a very long time since I said those things to her. So much has changed, and neither of us is the person we were before, but it hasn’t been that long.
A month isn’t long enough to erase the damaging things I said to her. I should have known that.
“You are not an idiot, or irresponsible, or a spoiled brat,” I tell her, my voice choked. “Please, Blair. You have to know…”
My words falter, though, as she shakes her head, and I wish the ground would open to swallow me up with her next words.
“That’s not the only thing you haven’t told me, though, is it?”
It isn’t really a question. The way she’s looking at me is like this is confirming something for her, and I can’t stand it.
Blair is more intelligent than anyone, including me, gives her credit for.
Of course she would have picked up on me hiding something and would take that personally, given how our relationship began.
Snow crunches under my feet as I take an unsteady step forward, reaching for her, and my heart plummets when she steps out of the way, misery shining from every part of her beautiful face.
“That’s what I thought,” she whispers, her voice wavering.
“Blair,” I plead, “I didn’t keep these things from you because I don’t think you’re capable of handling them, or don’t trust you. There are things about me, about my past, that no one outside my family is aware of. Even they don’t know the full story.”
“Forgive me, but doesn’t it seem a little convenient to you, Damien?” She lets out a hard, miserable laugh. “For months we’ve been—” But her words falter, and the second half of the sentence falls away, leaving a chasm of regret inside me.
For months, we’ve been falling in love.
That is what’s been happening: each of us learning how to love the other, and I refuse to let this be the mistake that ends that. I won’t fucking allow it.
Except, in my silence, Blair seems to have reached the end of her patience. She steps back, her expression shuttered. “It’s freezing out here. I’m going back to the house.” Her voice is hollow.
“Let me come with you. We can talk.” But she’s shaking her head before I’ve even finished speaking.
“No. I need some space,” she tells me, sounding so tired, so fucking defeated.
I exhale sharply, trying and failing to center myself. “You have become the most important person in my life, princess. I know I fucked up here, but I swear, I’ll find a way to tell you everything. Take your space, if that’s what you need, but please don’t write me off yet.”
Blair’s eyes drop to the snowy ground beneath us, and after an age, she finally gives a tiny nod.
I stay where I am—smothering my natural inclination to fix this immediately—and watch as she walks alone back toward Thornhurst, never once pausing to look back at me.
The door might not be closed, but I know I’m one fuckup shy of having it slammed in my face for good.