Chapter 21
Dove, Isha, and Eliza have never been speechless. Not in all the years I’ve known them. These ladies always have something to say, but as Damien settles in beside me, casually draping his arm across the back of my chair, there’s only complete silence coming from the three.
Nervous, I clear my throat to speak.
“This is Damien,” I manage to say, widening my eyes at Dove, so she’ll snap out of it.
She blinks hard and remembers how to smile and use her words. “Shit, sorry. I’m Dove Jeong—soon to be Dove Alexander. This is Isha Patel, and Eliza Copeland. We’ve known Layla since college, but we may as well be sisters.”
My heart races as Damien dons that smooth-as-silk smile. “Lovely meeting you all. And congratulations to both of you,” he adds, reaching across the table to shake Chris’s hand.
Beside me, Eliza bumps me with her knee, and I know I’ll have a ton of explaining to do after tonight. Seeing as how I hadn’t told anyone Damien would be joining us. Little do they know, I had no idea he’d be here either.
I haven’t checked to see if Martinez has noticed the new addition at our table, but the side of my face tingles, leading me to believe someone’s staring. Whether it’s him or not remains a mystery. That is, until my phone vibrates with a text, and I pull it out to read the message.
Det. D. Martinez: Still sticking to your story? The one where you lied through your fucking teeth about that being the first time you met this asshole?
I could engage, I could unload all the hateful words I’ve stored up for him in a text, but I’ve got a better idea. One that involves me tucking my phone back inside my purse, and pretending he isn’t even in the room. Instead, I lean into Damien’s side a little, knowing Martinez is over there stewing in his own anger at the sight of it.
“So, Damien, we hear you and Layla met under some pretty… naughty circumstances.” After putting Damien in the hot seat, Isha rests her chin on her fist and awaits his response.
“Wow, I suppose this means she, uh… she told you all the sordid details.” An almost shy, boyish grin curves his lips, and I’m focused there, hating how that kiss ignited a powerful craving inside me.
Isha nods, eating this up. “Oh, yeah. She told us everything.”
If I were still sitting beside her, I’d dig my nails into her thigh, silently telling her to shut the hell up, but now there’s a six-foot-four wall between us.
“What can I say?” he says, flashing another smile as he turns to stare down on me. “When I see something I want, I have a tendency to go after it.”
I swallow deeply, unable to break our gaze. It’s like I’m back there, back at The Jungle, back under his spell.
“So, you just pop in and out of clubs all over the city, working your magic on all the ladies?” Isha teases with a laugh, wiggling her fingers in the air as a reminder of what went on underneath the table in VIP that night.
This time, Damien coughs a laugh, likely surprised by my friends’ forthrightness.
“No, I assure you that was quite out of character. I suppose you could say Layla just brings out a different side of me.”
My heart does this thing where it pitter-patters inside my chest, reminding me of how I’d get back in high school, when one of my crushes was around. Damn, I haven’t felt this way in years—like I could float right out of my seat.
“Well, any friend of Layla’s is a friend of ours, so it’s nice to meet you,” Eliza chimes in.
Damien turns toward her. “I appreciate the warm welcome.”
Much to my relief, after a few lingering looks, and Isha mouthing the words, “Oh, my God!” behind Damien’s back, we’re no longer the center of attention. Not at our table, at least. I’m willing to bet that Martinez is glancing over every few seconds, having an increasingly difficult time focusing on his date as his anger brews.
I finally work up the nerve to look up, locking eyes with Damien right before leaning in to whisper into his ear.
“How the hell did you know I’d be here?”
“I have my ways,” he answers, amusement in his tone.
Heat flashes through me when his thumb brushes the exposed skin of my shoulder, but I still manage to whisper the jab that’s more lighthearted than accusatory.
“Anyone ever told you you’re a stalker?”
He lets out a quiet laugh. “Not a stalker,” he corrects. “Yours.”
I lean away again, feeling the smile fade as my eyes settle on hislips. Resisting the urge to taste them again is no small feat.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Dove says, volleying a look between me and my party-crashing date. “What do you do for a living, Damien? Layla hasn’t mentioned it.”
My interest is piqued as well, seeing as the only thing I really know about Damien is that he has this uncanny knack for knowing where I’ll be at all times, and that he has an unnatural affinity for death and carnage.
Remembering that this side of him exists, I feel myself leaning away. Not enough that he or anyone else would notice, but enough that I’m reminded that I have a conscience that hasn’t forgotten there’s more to him than what meets the eye.
“I’m an investor,” he answers. “My father was a considerably wealthy man.”
My friends all sort of lean in as he speaks, falling under his spell.
“As his only son, when he died, he left everything to me. So, the portion not sitting in either stocks, bonds, or foreign accounts… is tied up in real estate and several local businesses.”
I study him, wondering if this is even true, but I’m inclined to believe him for some reason.
“So, what I’m hearing is, if I ever have a business idea that requires a little seed money, you’re the man to see?” Dove asks.
Damien nods, indulging her. “Absolutely. Wouldn’t even think twice about it.”
The girls continue rapid firing one question after the other, and it’s beyond clear that they’re impressed. Beyond Damien’s looks, he’s quite the force to be reckoned with. He has this unnerving ability to disarm an entire room with his presence, and it’s fascinating to watch him work his way into my friends’ hearts, earning their trust before they’ve even caught his last name. His charm is more than just a trait.
It’s a fucking weapon.
I zone out listening to the conversation, only now remembering Martinez is here. This time, I don’t deny myself the opportunity to see the sour look I imagine to be on his face. I turn and, sure enough, his eyes are on me, and his nostrils flare with anger when we lock in on each other. The audacity it takes for him to actually be pissed that I’m not alone tonight while he’s here with someone is off the charts.
He cuts his eyes off from me, practically scowling as he faces his date again, but it doesn’t look like things are going so well from here. The girl looks bored because Martinez is hardly speaking to her, and the way his knee is shaking beneath the table, I’m guessing he’s too angry to care. So, when I glance back toward Damien, falling under his spell along with everyone else, it’s hard not to feel like I’ve won this round.
Without even trying, might I add.
My girls aren’t easy to woo, which is why I’m thoroughly surprised and impressed by Damien seeming to already have them wrapped around his finger. He did in one night what Martinez couldn’t do in six months, and I’d be lying if I said watching him isn’t a turn on. If I had underwear on, they’d be soaked through by now.
“Well, I must say, the small amount of information we were able to pull out of Layla about you didn’t do you justice,” Eliza comments, and the others quickly concur.
“The next time we hang out, and it isn’t a girls-only event, you have our permission to join,” Dove chimes in, joking but not.
“I’m honored to be invited. Thank you.”
Dove nods graciously toward Damien, then orders another drink from our waiter. While the girls are distracted, I whisper again.
“You’ve done the impossible. You’ve won my friends over. Trust me, that almost never happens.”
Warm lips move against my ear when he whispers back. “And what about you? Have I won you over yet?”
My heart does that thing again where it skips several beats. In my peripheral, as I’m leaning into Damien, contemplating how to respond, I catch the moment Martinez decides to call it a night, casting a dirty look my way before escorting his date to the lobby. I consider Damien’s question again, and despite myself, despite how many have suffered by his hand… I nod and utter the answer I believe he’s been waiting for.
“Yes.”
A warm surge of air leaves him, moving against my neck. Because there are others around, he doesn’t stay there long. But he places a lingering kiss just beneath my ear that fans the flames ignited when I first laid eyes on him tonight.
I’m not a bad person.
I know right from wrong.
I’m not a violent person and would never dream of hurting anyone.
But there’s this part of me that likes to pretend Damien isn’t capable of any of those things either. It was a small lie I told myself at first, but now that I’ve felt the electricity between us, I’ve edited the words, cycling a new string of lies on repeat inside my head.
He’s not all bad.
I’m still in control and can end this whenever I want to.
I’m not starting to fall.