19. Chapter 19 - Minnie
Damien places his hand on my lower back. “Ready to see the house?”
From the outside, we probably look like a couple. A married couple.
I married Daniel Stravinsky! I married the Damien Starr!
Take a chill pill, Minnie. It’s just a contract. A business deal. It means nothing.
But Damien’s palm scalds me through the fabric of my dress and my heart thunders in my chest. It’s embarrassing how turned on I am from that simple touch. How much I crave more. Especially when I know these feelings are entirely one-sided.
The only reason Damien kissed me was to fulfill his end of our bargain. He’s not even attracted to me. Why would he be? He’s a rockstar. He’s got women much hotter than me throwing themselves at him every day.
But knowing that doesn’t change my reaction to his kiss. I never knew that a simple touching of lips could be so deliciously addictive. Honestly, I rarely imagined what kissing would feel like, period. Formula M always forced me to think of Julian, and those thoughts were always lukewarm at best.
Picturing myself kissing the rock star next to me sets my whole body on fire.
I suddenly can’t stop thinking about his lips on mine.
How he cupped my face, his palm large and warm, his cold rings sliding against my skin as he threaded his fingers through my hair.
The way he smelled—a mix of leather and something herbal I couldn’t place—intoxicating and masculine—without a hint of the delicious bakery smell that used to follow him around when we were kids.
A smile tugs at my lips, remembering how he’d always sneak me pastries and candy bars.
He was so sweet back then. Always taking care of me and doing things he knew would make me happy.
My mother forbade desserts, so he made sure I had access to forbidden sweets.
He let me take turns riding his bike and invited me to play with all his toys—simple joys denied to me at home, where I was expected to spend my free time practicing “real” magic.
The memory of the boy he used to be makes my heart hurt, but the man next to me makes my body hum with desire. My lips crave his. The kiss we shared was warm. Commanding. The way he claimed my mouth made me forget everything except him, his taste, his touch, the way he made my body come to life.
That kiss made me finally understand why so many women are obsessed with Damien Starr.
Just thinking about his tongue sliding into my mouth, slow and deliberate, makes my nipples tighten against the fabric of my dress. The memory of his fingers tightening in my hair, holding me right where he wanted me, sends heat traveling straight to my core.
Where did he learn to kiss like that?
The thought is like being doused with icy water.
He’s kissed hundreds of women, if not thousands.
He’s a rockstar, for goddess’s sake. He probably kisses all women like that, leaving them wet and wanting.
And I have no right to feel jealous. I have zero claim on the man.
He’s going to walk away—just like he did when we were kids.
And this time, he’ll go straight to kissing other women, while I’m left alone with the phantom sensation of his lips on mine and the constant desire for more.
But now that I’m off Formula M and I know I can kiss another man without picturing Julian, I could kiss hundreds of men too, if I wanted to. Or at least join a dating app and go out with a man.
I instantly think of Zachariah, still in his orange jumpsuit, advancing toward me and kissing me senseless. Why is it that the only men I want to kiss are my fated hates?
I pull away from Damien and hurry up the drive, doing my best to ignore the sound of his dress shoes hitting concrete as he follows. Instead of going into the house, I walk alongside it to the back yard.
When I first came into my powers, Maude made sure to remove every trace of wildlife surrounding the Montgomery mansion.
Grass was replaced with concrete, trees and bushes were torn down, and an electric fence was put up to keep non-humans out.
Maude claimed she was doing what was best for me—but I know she was ashamed.
She grimaced each time she saw me flap my arms. And any time I’d try to talk to an animal, she’d hiss at me to be quiet and drag me away.
But this house—the house Damien bought for me—is brimming with life. From the soil to the sky, animal voices fill the air, greeting us. Distracting me from the man who broke my heart by leaving me behind.
My heels sink into the grass, and I make a mental note to add shoes to my list of changes I’d like to make to Formula M. No more wardrobe restrictions, so I can finally wear whatever I want.
Damien helps me into the back yard, which backs out into the forest and is pure perfection.
But the minute I spot the majestic tree, its branches stretching high into the sky, my heart sinks.
A heavy feeling settles in my chest as I take in the treehouse that blends naturally with the thick foliage, complete with a little window, a small balcony, and a ladder.
How could you?
The words lodge in my throat as I try to make sense of the tightness forming in my chest. It’s just a treehouse—a bunch of wooden planks nailed together, sitting atop a tree—not a blatant in-your-face reminder of the childhood friendship he threw away.
This treehouse probably means nothing to Damien. I bet he forgot about all the time we spent in his, reading, sharing secrets, and drafting the marriage contract that brought us here.
Remember, you’re not that girl anymore. He can’t hurt you.
This treehouse doesn’t even look the same. Danny’s had a rope ladder, while this one has a staircase made entirely of wood. And Danny’s didn’t have a balcony or glass in the windows, or a coat of shiny green paint.
Natty and I will make new memories with people who won’t shatter our hearts into a gazillion pieces.
Assuming Zachariah doesn’t take him away from me.
I realize I’m about to break down into tears in the middle of the yard and rush back around the house to the front door. Damien snorts each time one of my heels sinks into the grass—the asshole—but at least I don’t turn into a blubbering idiot.
“Wait until you see the rest of the house,” he says from directly behind me, making my heart leap into my throat.
He’s too close, his hot breath caressing my ear. All I have to do is lean back slightly, and I’ll be in his arms. Then all I have to do is turn around and…
What the hell is wrong with me? Damien and I aren’t fated mates… we’re fated hates. I shouldn’t be attracted to him. I should definitely not feel like throwing myself at him each time he gets too close.
It’s probably because he’s the first man I’ve gotten close to since coming off Formula M. But now I can start dating and forget all about Damien ‘the asshole’ Starr.
He follows me inside the house, acting completely at home. And why shouldn’t he, since he bought the place?
But now it’s mine, I remind myself. Mine and Natty’s.
I kick off my heels. It’s been over a decade since I’ve walked anywhere without shoes. Bare feet are not Formula M approved, unless you’re in the tub, or in bed.
I marvel at the solid, comforting feel of the cold hardwood floor and decide that I’m instituting a no-shoe policy at home.
Damien removes his dress shoes, and I try to ignore how domestic seeing a man in socks in my kitchen feels.
I focus on my new home instead, padding across the spacious, fully furnished living room and into the kitchen.
I drop my Birkin on the counter and marvel and everything that is now mine.
The house has running water and a working fridge—I check—and a first floor bathroom with a toilet that flushes.
That in itself makes the house perfect, and I’m glad Damien doesn’t make fun of me for checking the plumbing.
He leads me up the stairs, to a small room at the end of the hall, complete with blue walls, a toddler bed, a bookshelf filled with picture books, and several bins of toys.
I gasp. “When did you have time to do all this?”
Damien hesitates and finally says, “This is how the house was staged. I bought it as is, so donate or sell anything you don’t like.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s perfect.”
The closet is even filled with boy’s clothes, a size too big for Natty, but just right for him to grow into. And I bet that once Zachariah sees all this, he’ll totally believe that we’ve been living here the entire time.
I turn toward the door, intent on checking out the rest of the house, and slam into Damien’s chest. I stumble backward, but he catches me, his palms burning imprints on my bare arms.
“Sorry,” I mumble and quickly back away from him.
He breaks into a slow grin, as if he’s aware exactly of the sort of effect he has on me. He probably is. I bet women throw themselves at him every day. No wonder the man is so cocky and full of himself.
“So, Minnie Stravinsky…” he drawls, and I suddenly want to slap the grin off his face, or maybe kiss it away. Nope, definitely not kiss it.
I’m not going to become another notch on Damien Starr’s bed!
Even if I wanted to, the curse probably wouldn’t allow full out sex. And if it does, I don’t want my first to be him. He’s taken too many of my firsts already. First friend, first love, first kiss.
First husband…
Not that we’re truly married. It’s just a mutually beneficial trade. This house and some cash for his freedom.
But the way Damien stares down at me almost makes me think he wants more. Instead, he asks, “Care to explain why Judge Adeboye thought we were fated mates?”
There’s accusation in his voice, like he thinks I’m somehow responsible for the glowing pink magic between us. As if I somehow put it there. But what if I had?
“It’s fake,” I announce. “A spell I bought to convince the judge to marry us. In case we couldn’t convince him we were an actual couple.”
Damien lets out a humorless chuckle. “You really are Maude Montgomery’s daughter, aren’t you?”
I resist the urge to throw a wooden train at his head and feign boredom by yawning instead.
“I should have expected you to do something to make sure you got your money’s worth,” he adds, increasing the likelihood of a head-on-train collision.
I channel Formula M and examine my nails. “Don’t you mean to save you from a certain fae?”
Damien’s shoulders drop. “Touché.”
I don’t want to feel any sympathy for the jerk, so I change the subject. “Should we resume the house tour?”
That seems to snap him out of it and he gives me a slow once-over. “What’s the rush?”
It’s shameful how easily my body reacts to him. But I’m not letting this man insult me one minute and seduce me the next.
I push past him and head back out into the hall. Damien chuckles, like he’s more amused by my rejection than offended, and follows.
I’m hyper-aware of how close he is. How our arms graze as we check out each room. How he towers over me as he steps back to let me into the guest bedrooms so I can look around.
We leave the master bedroom for last, and when we step inside my heart suddenly starts to pound in my chest.
There’s a giant king-sized bed with a huge wooden headboard in the middle of the room.
Rather than stare at it and gulp like the virgin I am, I hurry to check out the bathroom.
It has a heart-shaped jacuzzi tub, and I picture myself in it with Damien, naked, surrounded by bubbles, eating ice cream from a giant bowl. Maybe even licking it off his chest.
Seriously, Minnie?
Damien isn’t interested. At best, I’d get a one-night stand with a dick that’s probably been inside more groupies than I can count. At worst, he’ll laugh in my face and remind me our relationship is a business deal.
But when I step out of the bathroom, he’s right there, mere inches away from me. And the way his gaze drops to my lips tells me that this is definitely more than a contract.