7. Chapter 7 - Damien
I smile down at the sleeping boy, set aside the picture book, and get to my feet.
Why are you living in an abandoned building, Minnie?
I look around the small room. It’s so unlike the bedroom she grew up in. There’s no antique four-poster bed, no pristine white walls, and no paintings of long-dead Montgomerys glaring down at you while you play.
But despite its questionable location, this room looks lived in. From the coloring pages and crayon drawings taped to the walls, to the well-read library books and the happily sleeping boy, her home is warm and full of love.
So while a part of me wonders how Minnie fell so far, another holds out hope that somewhere, deep down, she isn’t the ice queen her mother raised her to be.
“Come with me,” she says softly.
She grabs a pink vial from the top shelf of the bookcase and leads me down the hall.
Her heels click on the hardwood floor with each step.
What sort of woman tucks her toddler in while wearing a minidress—a Minnie dress?
I barely suppress a snort—and heels? Other than her mother, that is.
Assuming the woman ever tucked her daughter in herself.
Aside from the bedroom, the two-story building looks completely unlived in. The corners are covered in cobwebs and the air smells musty. It’s not the sort of place where she should be raising Natty. Which is where I come in. “I have a proposal for you.”
Minnie glances over her shoulder, her lips curving up in a small smile. “So you’ve been saying.”
It’s the first time in a long time that I’ve heard anything resembling emotion in her voice, unless you count the ear-splitting, high-pitched giggles she kept emitting around Julian.
Shocker there.
“I can offer—” I start.
“Let’s sit first.” She leads me through a door at the end of the hall.
The room we step into looks like it was abandoned years ago. I’m not sure there is anywhere I would willingly sit, but Minnie sprinkles the contents of her vial around the room, and it transforms in front of my eyes.
The dusty bed becomes a fancy dining table. The old wooden chair in the corner transforms into a chaise. The dirty floor becomes a soft white carpet. And the unlit lightbulb on the ceiling morphs into a lit chandelier.
“Whoa,” I say. I’ve been around magic all my life, but I can’t help being impressed. Then again, when it comes to Minnie, I should expect nothing less.
She leads me to the dining table, and I play the gentleman and pull out her chair. She sits down on the very edge, feet crossed at the ankles, and gestures for me to take a seat across from her. I ignore the request and settle into the chair to her left.
Minnie’s eyes widen slightly, and I instinctively want more. More of a reaction. More of her.
I lean toward her, and Minnie lets out a soft, sexy little gasp that makes my blood boil. I groan, and her lips form an ‘O’ of surprise.
And I almost ruin the moment by blurting out that I’m impressed her face can even move.
“Marry me, Minnie,” I say softly instead.
Her eyes lock on my lips, and I realize that I have her right where I want her.
I thought that part of me had died where she was concerned, but it springs back to life. I trace my fingers up her soft, bare arm. Her skin is warm to the touch, so unlike her ice-queen demeanor.
For a split second, I almost forget she already broke my heart once.
I reach for the spaghetti strap of her pink dress and gently pull it down, baring her shoulder. Then I bend forward and kiss the smooth, silky-soft skin.
I’ve played the seductive rock star with plenty of groupies, but somehow, this time, the only person I manage to seduce is myself. My cock strains against my jeans, and I realize Minnie is the one who has me exactly where she wants me.
Except she doesn’t actually want me…
She pulls away from me like she’s been burned, when the truth is she’s always been the one to burn me.
I try not to let the effect she has on me show. I lean back in my seat. “Be my wife,” I drawl.
I’m going to make you mine, Minerva Montgomery.
Minnie Alexander, I remind myself.
She stares at me for several long seconds, and finally asks, “Why?”
I could answer that in so many ways. I could lie and tell her all the things that women want to hear. I could spout poetry and talk of happily ever afters and all the other crap my bandmates have been going on about ever since they fell in love.
But it’s one thing to add a bit of seduction into the mix. I’m not enough of an asshole to lie so she’d agree to wear my ring.
I run my fingers through my hair. “Not a Vampire has a lot of superfans.”
Minnie rolls her eyes. “So marry one of them.”
I cringe and pull out our marriage contract.
“So you’re saying you need a wife so girls stop throwing themselves at you?”
“Something like that.” I drum my fingers on my knee and Minnie’s gaze drops.
“You always did that when you were thinking.”
“You always played with your hair,” I say automatically.
“My mother hated that.”
“She did.” And the fact that Minnie says ‘hated’ not ‘hates’ tells me she broke the habit I used to love.
A habit that had her mother sighing dramatically and saying, ‘You’re a witch, Minerva Montgomery. Act like one.’
Yet I’ve met plenty of witches who don’t act as stuck up as the Montgomerys. And when Minnie and I were kids, she wasn’t like this.
For a second, I entertain the thought that she’s still in there somewhere, hidden beneath the surface. But it doesn’t matter. Not when the surface sucks balls… and not in a good way.
Minnie gestures at the plastic bag in my hand, and the lifeline it holds inside. “I didn’t think you’d keep that.”
I shrug. “Mom hasn’t touched my room since I left. It was right where we left it.”
“You still have your pirate chest?” Minnie smiles, a genuine curving of the lips. It doesn’t quite light up her face the way her smiles used to, but it’s a lot more than I’ve seen from adult Minnie so far.
I look at her. Really look at her.
She used to have freckles when we were kids, but they’re all gone now.
Well, mostly gone. I spot an errant freckle on her cheek that I swear wasn’t there before.
It makes me smile. So does the one strand of hair that curls slightly, pulling away from her iron-straight hair.
They’re little reminders of the girl I once knew.
I clear my throat. “All the songs we wrote are still there, too.”
Minnie’s lips curve up again. “Do you remember the one about the birds?”
I grin. “I saw a birdie up in a tree.”
Minnie smiles back, wider this time. “It waved its wing and said hi to me.”
For a second, it feels like no time has passed at all. Except that it has.
And then, like magic, another freckle appears. On the tip of her nose this time. And I don’t know why, but it gives me hope.
I take Minnie’s hands in mine.
She pulls away, but slowly, and her eyes widen.
“You’re the only one who can help,” I tell her.
“One of our groupies is a Fae princess. She convinced her father that I’m ‘the one’ and he is willing to do anything to make his little girl happy.
Including forcing me to marry her. The only way I can get out of it is if I’m betrothed to someone else. ”
“Betrothed?” Minnie starts to yawn but abandons the pretense. “So propose to a groupie. You have plenty.”
She returns to examining her nails again in that annoying way her mother always had. Except Mrs. Montgomery would examine her shiny diamond rings, not just her painted fingernails.
It grates on my nerves and reminds me of the side of Minnie I hate. “Do you really think I’d come here asking you to marry me if I had any other choice?”
“Great marriage proposal, Damien.”
I groan. “The Fae King is willing to honor our marriage contract,” I tap the plastic bag, “because it’s signed in blood.” Thanks to the witch sitting in front of me.
Who knew that the girl who broke my heart would be the one to save me?
Minnie stares at the bag. The marriage contract inside is drafted in crayon, in messy children’s scrawl, but we both pricked our fingers and left bloody stains on the page. Which makes it legally binding among Fae.
“Marry me, and I’ll give you anything you want. Money. A house. New books and toys for your kid.”
Minnie purses her lips. “So you’re willing to pay to save yourself from a fate worse than Fae… well, a fate that is fae… It can’t be worse than fae if it is fae.”
The small tangent, and the fact that she looks a bit flustered, reminds me of the girl I rarely think about anymore. A girl I thought I’d gotten over. But being around her makes all the longing, and all the hurt, resurface.
I steel my heart. I won’t let her hurt me again.
“You obviously need the money,” I say. Though hell if I know why. Do her parents know she’s living in squalor? Can’t her mother spare a diamond ring or a chandelier to help her daughter and grandson out?
Or has the Montgomery fortune always been as fake as the room we’re in? Fancy on the outside, but covered in dust beneath the surface?
Unless the only reason she’s staying here is so she could spy on Julian, who lives across the street…
Oh, who the fuck cares?
What matters is that Minnie loves money, and I have money.
“You can have your pick of vacation homes, anywhere in the world. Diamond rings. Designer clothes. You name it.” She’s already shaking her head so I rush to add, “I can make you famous on Screech. Find the best school for your son. Buy him toys, books, anything he wants.”
“He…” Minnie shakes her head again.
“Please, Minnie. You’re my only hope. And we can get a divorce as soon as Eliara sets her sights on someone else.”
“A divorce,” Minnie repeats, as if the thought had never crossed her mind. And I finally feel a sliver of hope.