CHAPTER 7
DAMIáN
Ipush the glass doors of Chapters he’s brilliant and capable, yet I’ve never met someone who second-guesses himself this much.
He has slept around with half of Manhattan, yet every time I touch him, he reacts as if he’s discovering every sensation for the very first time.
He amazes me.
And not just because he is gorgeous, what he does, or how he is… It’s the fact that even after a lifetime surrounded by death, Oliver still manages to hold so much light inside him.
Suddenly, I feel weird… and it’s not just because I’m standing like an idiot in the middle of a packed bakery staring at a beautiful man, but because at this moment, I desperately wish I were the one making him laugh like that.
Mierda…
“Whatever the joke is, I want in,” I say, as I sink into the booth right next to Oliver.
I slide my hand under the table, rest my palm on his thigh, and squeeze it. Oliver shivers under my touch.
His muscles tense for a split second before completely melting against my side, and then, my thumb betrays me, moving entirely on its own to trace lazy circles over the denim of his jeans.
I fully intend to stop, but it seems Oliver likes what I’m doing, so I keep doing it.
You know… to be a good mission buddy or whatever.
“Zara was just telling me about an influencer who has this weird beef against her.”
“She’s a nightmare,” she huffs, annoyed. “But enough about her, and let’s talk about you. Oliver has been holding out on me… since I didn’t even know you existed until yesterday,” she adds, though I can tell she is lying.
“I like to keep a low profile.”
“Well, you failed,” a voice interrupts. “You can’t ever be low profile, Dami.”
I look up to see Kai, with his quirky blue glasses, standing over our table with a tray of pastries and drinks. Kai is always nice to talk to and usually one of my favorite baristas, but right now, he is glaring at Oliver like he just stepped on his cat, and it’s bothering me.
A lot.
“Here is your usual, Dami,” he purrs at me, and I just want to strangle him.
What the fuck is he doing?
And since when does he call me Dami?
“Thanks…” I take a fork and a knife and cut a piece of my croissant de Monte Cristo, so Oliver can try it later.
“And—oh-my-God!” Kai squeals the moment he turns to Zara. “You’re ‘Zara Sees the World’, right?!”
“Yes! That’s me.” Zara flips her golden curls and gives him her best influencer smile.
And speaking of influencers… one of the strangest things we found about Oliver, back when we did his background check, is that his public presence barely exists outside of Zara’s social media.
She travels the world promoting luxury hotels and VIP parties, and about ninety percent of our intel on his personal life comes directly from her accounts.
If it weren’t for her photos, where he’s either partying by her side, traveling, or in the background attached to some hookup… we’d barely have more than his name and address. Outside of her feed and a random paparazzi snap here and there, Oliver is a ghost.
He doesn’t even have any socials of his own.
No email, no media subscriptions, nothing.
Maybe I should ask him about why that is…
Zara tastes her frappe and groans. “Oh, wow! This is delicious.”
“It is!” Kai agrees, completely starstruck. He places all the pastries on the table and picks up a large strawberry milkshake. “And is this also yours, Zara?”
“Nope, that’s mine.” Oliver lifts his hand and smiles.
“Ah…” Kai says dismissively, without looking at him.
And it bothers me even more.
Then, Kai leans forward and brings the glass down fast… way too fast.
With that kind of speed, force, and trajectory, the glass is either going to shatter on impact or spill all over Oliver.
For a split second, I expect Kai to pull back and play it off as a clumsy joke, but no, the man has absolutely zero intention of slowing down.
So, I move faster.
My hand shoots out, catching Kai’s wrist mid-air just inches above the table… but even after stopping him, the idiot tries to tilt the glass to slosh the pink liquid onto Oliver’s lap.
This time, I stop him by tightening my grip.
I squeeze hard and twist his arm slightly, not enough for anyone at the table to see what I’m doing, but more than enough for Kai to understand I will snap his fucking bone in half if he continues.
Kai flinches, and his eyes snap to mine in shock.
“I’m sorry,” he stammers, knowing without a doubt that I understood what he was about to do.
I take the glass from his hand and pull him down just enough, so he is the only one who can hear me. “Get the fuck out.”
I let go, and Kai stumbles back, looking completely terrified. I guess he’s never seen me angry before. But I am angry.
Very fucking angry.
Who the hell does he think he is to come over here and treat Oliver that way?
“Tell Lena to cover this table. You’re done here,” I add, trying my best not to show my anger.
“Yes…” His hands shake as he hugs the empty tray to his chest and scurries away.
“Wooow,” Zara says, nodding approvingly. “Hot alpha much?”
“Latino. It comes naturally,” I joke, tapping my chest, hoping to lighten the mood. But Oliver shrinks back into the booth, looking very upset.
“What did I do to him?” he asks.
“Nothing, nene,” I tell him, sliding my hand right back onto his thigh. “He’s just being an idiot.”
“I don’t think it was just that. He looked like he wanted to poison my drink.”
“Oh, he definitely does,” Zara says, clearly enjoying the show. “Learn to get used to it, Ollie, because that’s what happens when you steal the hottest guy in the neighborhood.”
I choke on my drink, but gracias a Dios, Oliver thinks the comment is hilarious, and finally smiles.
“So, Damián, after all that drama is finally done… the mandatory ‘first time meeting my bestie’s boyfriend’ interrogation officially begins.” Zara crosses her arms and focuses all her attention on me. “Oliver tells me you’re an art dealer.”
“That’s right,” I reply, fully aware she knows I’m actually in private security. She’s the only civilian in Oliver’s entire world that he asked the team to vet and clear, since she’s apparently been helping him for years.
But since the shadows could always be listening… Code talk it is.
“Must be exciting,” she adds, playing with her straw.
“You have no idea.”
“Mmhmm.” Zara takes a sip of her coffee. “Do you make a good living?”
“Are you hoping to be recruited?” I tease.
“Maybe… Cats or dogs?”
“Dogs. Especially corgis,” I say, and Oliver chuckles.
“Worst fear?”
“The death of a loved one.”
“Love, Uhh… How many men have you told you love them?” she asks, and I can feel Oliver’s thigh tense under my palm.
“None. I’ve never been in love… Not with a man, not with a woman.”
“Are you a manwhore?”
“Zara!” Oliver gasps, practically choking on his macaron.
“Yes,” I answer without hesitation.
“A cheater?”
“Never.”
“How would you know if you’ve never been in a relationship?… Before Ollie, I mean,” she adds, in case Rafael does listen to the conversation.
“Zara, please stop this,” Oliver begs, burying his face in his hands. “I’m sorry, Dami, you don’t have to answer any of this.”