Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Damon
F ifteen years ago…
“You, mon chou, have only one love.”
My body turned, my gaze drifting toward Sandrine as she stepped beside me. Before I could address her, my focus snapped back to Robyn; Sinclair was handing her a silly Happy New Year headband, the cheap silver plastic reflecting off the light.
Dozens of people had them on. Some wore glasses for the upcoming year, the date finagled around the eyeholes. Other guests had necklaces with the new year flashing violent colors.
But even with the silly party favor, Robyn looked exquisite.
She caught me staring, heat rising with delicious color to her cheeks, and I wished we weren’t here. I wished we were back at our apartment celebrating privately. A dangerous wish for a man whose sole job—whose life, literally—was designed for the purpose of being here .
Clearing my throat, I murmured back to Sandrine, “I don’t know about Miss Baker, but one love is more than enough for me.”
I took a quick drink of my champagne, though I wasn’t supposed to; the ball hadn’t dropped yet. The countdown played on TV in the background, the coverage from Times Square muted for another few minutes.
“What about you, madam? Do you have two loves?” Sandrine certainly sang the song like she did—like it was the only time she could ever confess the way she was being torn in two.
“It isn’t easy,” Sandrine said, a rare glimmer of sadness floating over her expression; she might have two loves, but I doubted either of them were the man currently chatting with my woman.
There was a time when Sandrine loved Magnus, but somewhere in the course of the last six months, that time ceased to exist, and the flickering ashes of her affection had been completely snuffed out.
Yes, Sinclair had always been evil. Always been greedy. Always been bent toward a life of illegal illustriousness. But cognizance was marked by contrasts. One recognized light by knowing shadow. Right by knowing wrong. And Sandrine was forced to face the complete devolution of their relationship only by comparison to the unalterable bond growing between Robyn and me.
Her front-row seat to our love story made it clear the tragedy of hers. And still, she rooted for us with every fiber of her being. A vicarious vindication that something beautiful and fruitful had grown from the destruction of her own happiness.
Part of me wished I could help her, but bringing an end to her husband was the only boon I could provide. That and the freedom to start over with her daughter .
If we ever got there.
Six months, and the end seemed only farther out of reach. Sinclair had devolved from madness into paranoia. More closed-door business. More dark-suited, dark-intentioned associates. More large men with larger guns around the house, watching our every move.
It seemed by bringing Robyn into this, I’d flown too close to the sun. Before, I’d been Sinclair’s right hand because I was every quality he admired; I was the man he wished he could be. Young. Handsome. Suave. I could sell ice to an Eskimo or a present to Santa Claus.
I was his finest warrior. His most lethal and trusted asset. And it was like Robyn made him realize just how strong and integral to him I’d become. How the power balance had shifted without him even realizing it. Like with the drop of my hat, the warrior could usurp his king.
No matter how hard I tried to disabuse Sinclair of that notion, the parasite of paranoia infecting him wouldn’t let the fear go. So, it had quickly become drastically harder to continue gathering evidence and information against Sinclair and all his associates. I’d become a trophy henchman. Kept around because I was too skilled and well-connected to get rid of but also too dangerous to really let close.
Sinclair turned then, noticing how Robyn’s eyes were only on me. With a tight smile, he lifted his glass in my direction, and I returned the mockery, both of us now keeping our enemies close.
He said something to Robyn then, forcing her away, and the noose around my neck tightened. I was working on borrowed time. Soon, Sinclair would finally work up the balls to try and get rid of me, and then the way he looked at Robyn…she was in his sights because of me.
Because I’d wanted her from the moment we met. Not like a delicious sweet or a forbidden treat. I wanted her the way one wants oxygen. More than a need for survival, she was the desire to live injected into my veins.
So, I’d brought her into this sham of a life, selfishly believing it was less perilous to invite her into this operation than it was to risk suffocation by letting her go.
“She’s in danger, Damon.” Sandrine stepped closer to me, her smile conflicting with her ominous message.
Tension snapped through my body like an arrow lodged in a bow.
“Excuse me?” I said, my eyes darting around the room for any sign of danger.
“Not here. Not tonight.” She chuckled, her head tipping so Magnus could only see part of her face from where he stood.
“Sandrine.” My voice dropped a notch. “What’s going on?”
“You know what’s going on, Damon. Who Magnus is trying to get in bed with.” She lifted her champagne glass, eyeing the TV over the rim, the countdown about to start.
I followed her lead, my mind accelerating into overdrive.
I was sent deep undercover to get enough evidence on Sinclair to prove he was stealing from people and trace the fraud all the way to his higher-up partners who used the stolen money to fund criminal organizations in the States and overseas. But when Sinclair sidelined me from that part of his operation, he replaced my tasks with one new one: setting up a meeting with a man named Amir Shazad.
I learned everything I needed to know about Mr. Shazad before that meeting occurred. Shazad was Pakistani Mafia. The head of the largest heroin distribution operation in the Middle East. A warlord who now wanted to expand his distribution to North America and was looking for a partner.
“And I know that business has nothing to do with Robyn,” I replied, though I wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone who tried to pull her into any of this. Or use her to threaten me.
The timer dipped below twenty seconds.
“It will,” Sandrine hissed, shooting me a glare from the side of her eyes. “I heard them talking, Damon. Heard that disgusting son of his talking.”
Uzair Shazad was who she was referring to. Amir’s son. Uzair was here to study business at UC Berkeley, and because of his student visa, Amir wielded his son like an extension of himself, using Uzair as a proxy to meet and negotiate possible partnerships on his behalf.
It was easy to think of Uzair like a puppet; I had. Until I met him. Then I had to wonder if it wasn’t the marionette himself who was pulling the strings. Yes, it was Amir’s organization, but Uzair was no proxy. He was an amoral psychopath who used his father’s wishes to satisfy his own sadistic cravings.
Two women had been killed on campus at Berkeley since Uzair had started there. They were brutally and sexually abused and then stabbed. There was no evidence linking Uzair to the crimes, but as far as Uzair knew, I wasn’t the police. And that meant when he was here, in friendly territory, he didn’t bother to hide the twinkle in his eyes every time he bragged to me about his sexual preferences, casually alluding to how some women just couldn’t survive being with him. Survive. That was the exact word he’d used.
“He says Amir wants a wife for him in order to cement the deal.”
A wife for Uzair? The equivalent of bringing a lamb to slaughter. And then the full weight of what she was implying hit me like a wrecking ball, a wave of red-hot rage falling like a fugue around me.
“Robyn?”
As though she heard the low utterance of her name, Robber’s eyes found mine through the small crowd, her smile brightening when it found me.
“He doesn’t trust you like you think he does, mon chou.” Sandrine’s whispered voice was almost completely drowned out by the chant of the party.
Oh, I knew that.
Ten seconds.
Was I what drove him toward Shazad? Was this the weapon he would wield to put me in my place? To test my true loyalty and subservience to him by bartering my girlfriend to a sadistic psychopath?
Fuck that.
“I know he doesn’t trust me.” My jaw ground tight. “He shouldn’t.”
Five seconds.
Fury blinded me. The unmetered thump of my heart into my chest beating a truth I tried to ignore. From the moment I laid eyes on her, I’d had one love. She was mine. It was as simple as that. And I would do anything—I would risk this entire mission. Suffer any torture. Inflict any amount of pain, even on myself, if it meant keeping her safe.
I didn’t care if burning down Sinclair’s world would take mine with it. I didn’t want to breathe without her.
I drained the rest of the glass and set it on the closest surface. “Give me one of your rings,” I ordered, drawing Sandrine’s raised brows, though she immediately moved to comply.
Her fingers were covered in jewels. They always were. Her pinkie wouldn’t miss the deep sapphire she pulled from the digit and handed to me.
Four.
“I owe you,” I told her quietly, unable to explain just how much I was in her debt for the warning .
Three.
I pushed through the crowd, not caring who I bumped a little too hard along the way. There was no hesitation as I went to her. No second thought or concern for consequences. Nothing but hot, aching desperation as I hauled her into my arms, feeling her searching gaze on mine.
“Damon…”
Two.
I pressed my mouth to her neck—to the beat of her heart I’d willingly lend my own to protect.
Sinclair…Shazad…they were going to know she was mine and exactly what I’d do to any man who tried to take her from me. And Robyn…she was finally going to learn that I had no intentions of ever letting her go.
“Happy New Year!” The room erupted as I captured her mouth, the sound of celebration dulled behind the taste of her sweet lips and the temptation of her soft tongue.
“Damon.” Her brows collided. “What are you?—”
“Trust me,” I clipped and pushed the ring onto her finger. “Ladies and gentlemen,” I called out, dramatically dragging a chair from the wall and hoisting myself onto it. “Thank you all for being here tonight. I’m sure I speak for Magnus when I say we’re looking forward to all the…opportunities that this new year will bring.”
I felt Magnus’s glare zero in on me like a laser. His displeasure soured his expression, but no one noticed because they were all looking at me.
“However, the reason I’m up here, on this chair”—I paused and let them laugh, let them roll right into my spell—“is because I have already won the greatest prize of them all. I know, I’m sorry for all of you, too.” I smiled wide, ignoring the way Robyn cut off the circulation to my hand. “But I would like you to share in my success, in our celebration”—I angled my head, finally finding Robyn’s panicked gaze as I lifted her hand—“because the love of my life has agreed to be my wife.”
“He was going to sell me to Uzair? How would he—over my dead body.” Robyn scoffed.
We’d hardly made it through the door of our apartment before she’d demanded an explanation for what had happened earlier at the party, the idea to foreign to even speak.
My jaw pulsed. “That would’ve been the case if you’d said no.”
She had the decency to grimace. “I don’t understand how he could think…”
“Because he’s not thinking. He’s devolving.”
Her throat pulsed as she swallowed, her eyes drifting back to the heavy sapphire on her finger.
“And this?”
“On loan.” I took her hand, bringing her knuckles to my lips. “Until we go out tomorrow and pick out a real one.”
“Damon.” She hiccupped and tugged her hand back. “This isn’t…there had to be another way.”
“I don’t want another way, Robber.” I pulled her to me, catching her chin in my fingers. “I want this way. I want you.”
“But this…us…” Her wide eyes met mine, filled with uncertainty and confusion and no sign of denial. Not even a glimmer.
Smiling, I angled her face to mine. “Do you want to marry me?”
“Do you want to marry me?” Her voice whispered across her lips, and I hated that after months together—months when I’d risk everything about my life and career for her, because of how I felt about her—she still feared any kind of tether because of what happened to her parents. She was so afraid of anything that could be lost or ripped away without warning. I was determined to be the thing that broke her of that fear.
There was nothing that would ever keep me from her.
“God, yes, Robber.” My chest caved with a small laugh. “This just gave me an opportunity to look less like a caveman when I tell you I was never going to let you go.”
That brought a small turn of her lips.
“So, do you want to marry me?” I repeated, brushing my thumb over the bottom swell of her lip.
“Are you really asking?”
“Yes.” My head dipped lower, my mouth skating along her cheek. “But you know I rarely ask questions I already know the answer to.”
“Your arrogance is?—”
“Attractive? Irresistible?”
“Unparalleled.” She shivered. “And if I said no?”
There was not a thread of no in her voice.
“Then I’ll just have to fuck you until you scream yes.”
Her pupils blew wide, swelling with lust and something else—something far more precious that I could only feel but not describe.
“Maybe I should say no then…” Her arms slid up and twined around my neck.
I reached down and, in one smooth movement, lifted her into my arms, the front slit of her dress falling to each side as she wrapped her legs around my waist.
“Trust me, Robber, you want to say yes,” I murmured and pressed my lips to hers.
We hardly made it into the bedroom before she said the word. As promised, it was only the first of many yeses that night.
When I finally closed my eyes, I did so believing I’d saved her. Protected her. And somehow won her heart and her future at the same time. A future that, for me, would now be filled with more than fake identities stuffed into an empty shell of a life.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.