15. Chapter 15 - Minnie
Holding hands with Damien feels so right, and so wrong, and so confusing, that my thoughts scatter and I feel like I can’t suck in enough air.
Damien gives my hand a squeeze. “Soon as you sign the paperwork, we’ll have a quick ceremony, and then we’ll get out of here, okay?”
I instantly picture him carrying me over the threshold and into his bedroom. Logically, I know we’ll go our separate ways. But my body doesn’t get the memo.
As his stormy blue eyes meet mine, I can’t seem to look away. And I’m ashamed of how much I’m attracted to the man. So much about him reminds me of the boy I used to know, yet he exudes a raw masculinity that leaves me breathless.
He towers over me, standing way too close, sucking the air out of the suddenly too-small room. I become hyperaware of the fact that we’re alone and still holding hands. I imagine him backing me up, until my hips hit the table, then lifting me onto it and covering my lips with his.
Heat pools between my thighs and for the first time in my life, I’m turned on and not picturing Julian. I’m finally free. I’ll be able to masturbate. Experience an actual orgasm. Maybe even have sex with a man.
I picture myself naked, in bed, with Damien, and yank my hand out of his. I don’t need to give the man any more opportunities to reject me. And why wouldn’t he? He’s a rock star with hot groupies on speed dial. Why would he waste his time on an awkward virgin who was never good enough for him?
And it’s not like I actually want my first time to be with Damien Starr. He’s been with hundreds of women. Maybe thousands. He probably knows exactly how to touch a woman. Not that I care. He hurt me once, and I won’t let him do it again. But maybe if I went into it knowing it was just sex…
Forget it! The only way Damien would ever want to sleep with me is if it was in the contract… and I’d never stoop so low as to demand sex in exchange for marriage.
“Hello? Earth to Minnie?” Damien snaps. “Are you going to look at the paperwork or just stand there all day?”
How could I even think about sleeping with Damien Starr? The guy is a complete and utter jerk.
He gestures for me to sit, and I set my Birkin on the table before claiming the chair in front of the contract. Damien settles in next to me and picks up a pen. All business. He changes the $4,000 monthly stipend to $5,000, initials next to it, and hands me the contract.
I write MM before I remember that I’m Minnie Alexander, quickly cross it out, write MA, and wish I’d brought some gum. Why didn’t I think to bring gum? Should I text Zoe to bring gum?
“Well?” Damien demands.
Oh, right, the rest of the contract. “What about the fuzzies?”
“It’ll have to wait.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I can’t do any more shit behind the label’s back. I’m already in deep enough shit. But once I hash things out with them, I’ll pitch your video idea.”
“Pitch? You mean they could say no?”
“It’s a good cause, and I’ll need something to improve my image, so it’s a win-win.”
Of course he’d care more about his image than the fuzzies—but I take what I can get. “Can you talk to them tonight? Please?”
“Look, I get you don’t have any other shit going on in your life, but some of us do.”
His words make me want to slap him across the face. How could I ever forget the man is a complete and utter asshole? How could I ask him to kiss me at the altar when I can’t stand the sight of his smug, entitled face?
“I’ll schedule a meeting as soon as I speak with Eliara’s father. I’m not going near the band until he says I’m free.”
My heart sinks. There’s no way the fuzzies have that long. And I don’t think I can live with myself knowing they’re being tortured while we wait until Damien’s team agrees. We’ll have to do something to stall fuzzy sales. I just hope it doesn’t end with us behind bars.
“Are we signing this thing or what?” Damien demands, sounding every inch the cocky asshole.
Except he’s bouncing his foot under the table.
He always did that when he was freaking out.
Like the time he had to tell his parents he was flunking math, even after I tutored him every day after school.
That was before he was diagnosed with dyscalculia, a learning disorder that made it hard for him to understand anything that had to do with numbers.
It’s weird, knowing these random little things about Damien. Things that even Amber—who’s read every article published about the man—wouldn’t know. The dyscalculia he’s publicly talked about. But I’m not even sure he’s aware of the tell.
His knee keeps bouncing as I take my time with the contract.
I was born a Montgomery, so I know better than to sign anything I haven’t read thoroughly—and checked for invisible ink.
Damien raises an eyebrow when I take out the small wand and run it over the page, making sure it’s magic-free, but he doesn’t comment.
And then, time seems to stand still and race all at once, as I pick up a pen, sign the contract, and grab my purse to follow Damien to the room he booked for the ceremony.
Any time I pictured us getting married, we were outside, surrounded by nature, and life, and freedom. So being here, in this sterile government building, helps remind me that this is all just a transaction. A business contract instead of something real.
Damien leads me into a small room with polished wooden floors, cream walls, and rows of empty chairs for our non-existent guests. A simple arch entwined with white roses and greenery waits for us at the front, along with Judge Adeboye, the dragon shifter who put Zachariah behind bars.
“Ah, the happy couple,” he says as his eyes narrow on Damien. “My granddaughter has been bawling her eyes out ever since Not a Vampire broke up.”
Damien looks appropriately contrite. “Would Ola forgive me if I dropped by to apologize in person?”
Ola? As in Damien knows the Judge’s granddaughter? Is she a superfan? Did they hook up? Why should I care?
The Judge’s eyes practically bulge out of their sockets. “You would do that?”
Damien nods. “For the granddaughter of the judge who’s about to marry me to the love of my life?
Hell yeah!” He grins, the lie slipping out so smoothly I have to remind myself not to trust a word the man says.
He wraps one powerful arm around my shoulder and pulls me into his side.
“And after her video went viral, I owe the kid.”
Kid? I stamp down the relief I definitely don’t feel and shoot Damien a questioning look.
“Ola’s a dragon shifter. Judge Adeboye took her to one of my concerts last year. She was belting out all the lyrics from the VIP section—”
“So he shifted into her,” the judge says. “Flew above the stage and breathed fire. Did us dragons proud.”
“I invited them backstage after the show, and we’ve kept in touch.” Damien slaps a hand on the judge’s shoulder, something that I’m pretty sure is illegal, but earns him a grin. “I trust you’ll keep the wedding between us until the press release.”
Press release? I suddenly feel a little weak in the knees, but Damien keeps me upright.
“Of course,” the judge says instantly. “Even if I hadn’t signed that NDA, what you did for my granddaughter…” the judge shakes his head, lost for words. And I realize that Damien has this kind of impact on powerful men, while I’m the nobody taking care of the boy whose father they send to prison.
“You don’t know how much we appreciate this,” Damien adds. “Minnie and I want a quiet wedding and honeymoon, without getting swarmed by fans.”
Honeymoon? He doesn’t actually plan to take me on a honeymoon, does he?
The thought makes my pulse race until I realize that there’s only one type of honeymoon the curse would actually let me go on—Amber’s baby moon cruise.
I can picture every horrific detail, right down to Amber fawning over Damien while I can’t stop flirting with Julian, and Wes and Chase wondering which of us to kill first. If that isn’t romantic, I don’t know what is.
Not that anything about today is romantic, I remind myself. It’s all a farce. A legally binding farce.
Judge Adeboye mimics zipping his lips. “I understand your need to be discreet. Like I said, I’ll always be here to help… within the lines of the law. Which means you still need two witnesses for the ceremony. We cannot proceed without them.”
“They should be here soon,” I say quickly, slipping out from beneath Damien’s arm. “Let me go check.”
The judge seems all too happy to ask Damien a million questions about his music career while I stand in the doorway, shifting my weight from foot to foot.
Can I really trust Zoe and Violet to show up and keep my secret?
Is there a chance they’re not just putting up with me, and they’re actually my friends?
As if on cue, Zoe rushes up the stairs. She’s changed out of her signature overalls and dressed up in a bluish-gray dress that reaches her knees paired with black flats.
“Sorry we’re late,” she says, pulling me into a hug like she does whenever she’s greeting Amber.
“It’s kind of hard to sneak out in a dress when one of your mates is a detective and the other’s a reporter. I swear they see and hear everything.”
Violet runs in after her in a purple pastel full-length gown with an asymmetrical hem that shows off her silver sneakers—which I’d pick over my heels any day—and a matching shoulder-bag that’s twice the size of my Birkin.
“It’s even worse when your mate is a cop.
Except for the handcuffs!” she says, and only then spots Judge Adeboye behind me.
I guess she must recognize him, because she quickly adds, “Not his work ones. The ones from The Magic Rooster,” she says quickly. “He just really knows how to use them.”
Zoe snorts. “I bet he does.” She glances past the amused-looking judge to the only remaining man in the room. “Is that a Damien Starr impersonator?”