Chapter 16
DAMIAN
The next morning, I sit in the living room. Surrounded by Christmas decorations. I rarely spend much time in here, but ever since Celine gave it its makeover, it’s like I can’t stay away.
Why did I tell her about that stuff last night? I could’ve lied about those clippings, invented some excuse. There was no reason to make her believe I was some angel. Hell, helping those people doesn’t make me a good person. Doesn’t even make me decent. Just not a complete monster.
That might be why. I don’t want her to see me as the Beast… even if her seeing me as the Beast is the thing that’s going to keep her alive.
I lean forward, scrolling through my laptop. I wonder if Celine knows I’m aware she’s standing in the doorway, watching me. I can feel her presence. Smell her hot cocoa and just her. Her scent tempting me.
“What’s that?” she finally asks.
I should slam the laptop shut. Tell her to mind her own business.
“A gambling addiction recovery center.”
She sits on the other chair, crosses her legs. She’s wearing shorts that leave little to the imagination. Thick, delicious thighs on display. My rod twitches as I try not to devour her with my gaze.
“Oh?” She murmurs, adjusting her shirt.
A tank top, white, pale green bra beneath, visible through the material. I think about leaping across the room and tearing the shirt off, freeing her tits with my teeth. Biting her softly, then sucking her nipples, making her moan, making her ache.
“It’s… a project.”
“You might as well tell me,” she says. “Does it have something to do with the attack on you?”
“The attack,” I repeat, thinking of Julian’s evasiveness.
I’ve purposefully ignored my suspicions. My instincts. I don’t usually do that. But dammit, do I really believe Julian had something to do with it? No, there must be another reason he lied about Rico. Has to be.
“Yeah, remember.” She taps her face. “The one that gave you that sexy scar.”
A smile touches my lips. “Most people would think it’s ugly.”
“Nope. I think it’s cute.”
“I’ve never been called cute before,” I grunt.
“That’s because you never had that cute scar before,” she says.
“You’re a trip, Wintertide.”
“Do you ever run out of nicknames?”
“Do you ever run out of questions?” I retort.
She inclines her head. “Touche.” Nods at the laptop. “Well?”
I grind my teeth. This is a mistake, but I want to share it with someone.
“I think the mob is using this center to do… something.” I sigh.
“Before the attack, I noticed the real lowlifes in the Family, the Ricos and the others like him, talking about it. Little comments here and there, snide looks, like they were involved in some big joke. When I mentioned it to the Don, he got pissed. Too pissed. Suspiciously pissed. I swung by one evening and saw how heavily it was guarded. That made me certain something was going on. Something the lowlifes and the Don didn’t want the rest of the Family to learn about. ”
“What is it?” Celine asks.
“No clue,” I grunt. “The next day, I was jumped. Guns and knives from the shadows. Now I’m here. If I go back there and someone sees me, the game is up. They’ll know I’m not dead.”
I don’t mention the fact that I’d been planning on informing my contact in the FBI. Thomas keeps a low profile. Only contact me if you have something concrete…
Celine places her hot cocoa on the table, sits up straight. She looks beautiful and powerful. “I can check it out.”
I slam the laptop shut so hard I’ve probably broken it. “No.”
“If something bad is happ—”
She cuts off when I leap to my feet and walk across the room. Loom over her like I’m still the Beast and she hasn’t caught a glimpse of goodness in me.
“No,” I repeat, firmer. “You’re too involved already. Get that out of your head.”
For a second, I think I’ve won. Then she stands. Her curvy body bounces. Bravery paints her beautiful features. Pride expands in my chest, tugs at parts of me that should’ve died a long time ago. Every moment with her is a goddamn resurrection.
“I can use a different name, pretend I’m a gambling addict, and have a look around.”
I take her hand, gliding my thumb over her knuckle. She’s hot to the touch. “No, Celine. That’s final. If you push me on this, I’ll be forced to make sure you don’t go anywhere until this is over.”
She stares at me for a few moments. Solid, unflinching. Then sighs. “Whatever. It was just a thought.”
She drops onto the couch, sulking.
I return to the coffee table and open the laptop. A few of the keys have come loose from where I closed it too hard. Luckily, it still seems functional.
For several minutes, we sit in awkward silence. I’ve done the right thing in warning her away. She has no place in this world. Somehow, I still feel bad about it.
“What do people do that makes Christmas so special, anyway?”
She tries to hide her excitement behind her cup. Fails big time. “Nice try. Gold star for the change of subject.”
“I’m curious.”
“You’ve had your Grinch heart-expanding moment then?”
I gesture to the decorations. “All this merriment has got me thinking of adding some more.”
She gives me a sassy eye roll that makes me want to spank her into submission. “Sure you do.”
“I mean it. Tell me.”
She shrugs. “Lots of things. Sometimes, Mom and I make snowflakes out of paper and hang them all over the house. There’s an art to it–a science. We won’t get to do it this year.”
“Hopefully by Christmas Day you and your fam—”
“They’re having Christmas abroad this year. It’s got nothing to do with all this stuff.”
Oh.
She looks sad about that.
I stand, leave the room, and go into the kitchen. Grab a stack of white paper and some scissors.
She smiles, eyebrows raised. “Are you serious?”
“Very,” I tell her. “Show me how it’s done.”
“Really?”
“Don’t make me beg.”
She laughs. “I don’t know. I quite like the idea of you on your knees, begging me…”
“Get your mind out of the gutter, Candycane.”
“Ha. That might be my favorite one yet.”
I close the laptop again and set it aside. Spread the paper over the coffee table and hand her the scissors, handle first. “I’ve given you a peek into my world. Time for you to return the favor.”