Chapter twenty-two
Damon, Emma, and Annie's Home, London
Damon
My alarm sounds on my phone, alerting me that it’s time to get up.
I crack one eye open. The room is half dark with the curtains closed, though daylight seeps around the edges casting a soft glow.
Emma lies facing away from me, my arm across her waist with my hand on her stomach.
Her blonde plait lies over the pillow, looking less perfect and more like last night’s hairdo.
Not wanting to wake her, I slide my fingers from her body and wriggle out of the bed.
She stirs, then rolls onto her back with her eyes still closed.
I stand, looking down at her laid across the sheets. Plump breasts hang loose as she kicks the duvet from her legs. I lean down and pull the cover up to her chin. “You’ll get cold,” I tell her. She smiles softly, clearly still half asleep. “Stay in bed. I’ll go and pick up Annie.”
“Okay,” she murmurs. “I won’t argue.”
“Makes a bloody change.” She chuckles as I place my lips to her forehead. “See you later.”
“We didn’t use the lube,” she calls, surprising me with the random topic. Her eyes are still closed, but I reckon they’re dancing with mischief behind her lids.
“I wasn’t aware there was an issue with lubrication.”
“Hmmm…” she replies.
Taking the bait, I move back onto the bed and climb on top of her, straddling across her waist then taking her hands and pinning them either side of her head. Her eyes open—they’re big and blue, full of both fun and youth. “What does hmmm mean?” I ask, my voice low.
“It means hmmm.”
“Are you lodging a complaint regarding my performance?” Her lips twist, and she rocks her hips beneath me. “If you’re not completely satisfied, we’ll need to discuss a resolution.”
“What is the complaint procedure?” As I open my mouth to respond, my phone rings. I glance over to see Harrison’s name on the screen. The man has the uncanny ability to call at the most inappropriate moments. “Do you need to answer that?” she questions.
“Unfortunately, yes,” I say, collecting the handset and answering.
Harrison tells me he will be at home, and to come to The Level for Annie.
I advise I’ll be there soon, then end the call.
“That’s my cue. I need to go retrieve my offspring. I’ll see you later to rectify your complaint. There will need to be a thorough investigation of where I went wrong and an action plan implemented on how to resolve it,” I tell her before pecking her cheek then leaving the room.
My own bedroom is located at the other end of the corridor.
I walk past Annie’s room until I stand in front of my door, still naked.
Steeling myself, I push open the door and step into the room I shared with my late wife.
Our wedding picture hangs on the wall opposite like it has for years.
I stop in front of it and stare at Connie.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. Although I know that I’m not doing anything wrong, it doesn’t stop the guilt flaring that I have moved forward. “I’ll always love you, Bubbles. But I need this, Annie needs this. I think Emma could be our chance to be happy. It feels important to try.”
Unable to look at the woman I promised forever to any longer, I make my way to the ensuite and turn on the shower.
The head is large, and the water falls in great droplets that splash off the tiles.
As I wait for it to run hot, I move to the sink and look at myself in the mirror.
I lift a hand to my face, rubbing at the stubble on my chin.
I look rough. Emma’s scent is still strong on my fingers; I breathe deeply and remember where they were last night.
How I touched her clear skin and buried myself inside her.
Being with another woman hadn’t been as unsettling as I thought it may be.
I’d only ever been with Connie. We met when we were so young, I never had the time or inclination to sample another woman.
They held no interest for me; it has always been her, until now.
Until this young woman entered my home and, even more terrifying, my heart.
She’s been a strong but quiet stability in my life for the past year and a half: first to Connie through attempting to get pregnant, and then to me after I lost my wife.
For someone so young, she has so much strength; her life before I met her is still shrouded with secrets she’s rarely spoken of before now.
There is a lot I want and need to find out about her, especially if we’re to make this work.
I step under the shower and begin the routine I carry out every morning.
Connie always said I was a creature of habit when it came to starting my day.
Even with her gone that has proven true.
I always shower, have a cup of coffee, then read the newspaper that’s delivered each morning.
No matter what time my responsibilities begin, I rise early enough to undertake these steps.
If today’s paper hasn’t arrived, I re-read the previous one.
Connie said I was old before my time, that I’d still be undertaking the same steps when we were both old and gray.
Now, that will never happen. My future is looking unrecognizable.
After I have completed my routine, I quickly check on Emma before leaving.
She’s still asleep and has once again kicked the duvet from her body.
Not wanting to wake her, I lift a blanket that’s folded on a chair in the corner of the room and lay it over her.
She stirs but doesn’t wake. I’m able to leave the house with no further distractions.
Today, the drive to my friend’s home is a relaxed one; the roads are quiet, and I feel genuinely happy.
I use the public entrance to The Level as my appearance here is for legal reasons.
Matthew, who is in charge of the building security, is at his desk in the opulent reception hall.
He sees me arrive and lifts the receiver of his phone.
As I approach him, he signals to the elevator and stands to accompany me.
“Mr. Waite is expecting you,” he says with a polite smile then swipes his security card across the pad.
The doors open, and I step inside the glass box which is attached to the outside of the building.
As I rise, I’m treated to an amazing view over the city of London.
Normal people going about their days with no idea of the danger that surrounds them.
The elevator pings signaling my arrival to the lobby. When I step out, Harrison is waiting for me, holding my daughter; he looks completely comfortable with her in his arms. “Suits you,” I tell him.
“What does?”
I gesture in the direction of Annie.
“Maybe…” he replies, trailing off, then glancing out of the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“We will find her, Waite. She can’t have gone far.” My attempts to reassure my friend fall on deaf ears.
Violet Chase, the love of his life, reappeared after fourteen years a matter of days ago.
She was back to seek help from her brothers, Russell and Connor, but ran into Harrison first.
After a brief reacquaintance, she’s disappeared again.
Their relationship has always been off-limits, but my friend can’t hide the fact he wants her.
It’s caused yet more upset within our band of vigilantes.
“I’ll not rest until I find her. I need to know they are safe.”
His use of the word they confuses me. He steps forward and passes my daughter to me.
She giggles happily when our eyes meet, and I can’t help but smile.
“Violet has always been a pain in my ass,” he mutters.
“But I’d die for her. Anyway, how was your night?” He raises one eyebrow knowingly.
“Good,” I reply evasively.
“Only good? Come inside so we can have a beer and you can tell me all about it.”
“A beer? At this time in the morning?”
“It’s almost eleven,” he says with a shrug. “And I need to loosen you up to get the details.”
“A gentleman never tells…” He rolls his eyes. “But I will take that beer.” He turns and walks off in the direction of his apartment. The front door has been left lying open, and as we turn into the luxurious open-plan space, I hear a vacuum buzzing away somewhere in the apartment.
We sit up on the stools at the kitchen counter, Annie still propped on my knee.
She’s turned away from me with her back against my torso, and I hold her securely with my arm across her stomach.
I love the fact she holds her head up strong now and spends her time looking around, taking everything in.
Harrison has placed two open beers down in front of us. I pick mine up and take a sip.
Just then, Mrs. D comes dancing across the room with her cleaning equipment.
She rocks her hips to silent music, her earbuds lodged firmly in her ears.
She starts to sing a song I don’t recognize, and Annie claps her hands happily.
Mrs. D turns in our direction, and her eyes rise; she stops immediately as Harrison and myself grin at her. She removes the earbuds.
“Good song?” I ask. “You can certainly move, Mrs. D.”
“Yes, thank you,” she replies sharply, then stalks off. My friend and I laugh.
“So,” he says, clearly wanting to steer our conversation back to whatever topic he wishes to discuss. “Last night, you and Emma, did you…” He trails off as he considers his question, no doubt working out what to ask to result in me giving up the most information.
“Did we what?”
“Did you sort out your differences?” I laugh out loud. “Did that kiss in the hospital develop into something more active?”
“Are you asking if we had sex, Waite?”
“Yeah, but I was trying to be diplomatic.”
“That is none of your business,” I tell him. “But she’s at home in her bed asleep, so take from my knowledge of that what you will.”
“I’m happy for you,” he says, leaning forward and bumping my shoulder.
His hand moves to Annie’s chin, and he tickles gently.
“And you, Annie Dannie. You both deserve someone special to care for, and who will care for you. You all look good together.”
His eyes lock on mine, shrewd, honest, and intelligent as always.
“I thought you were going to fuck it up.”
“I’m not sure what it is yet.” He cocks his head to one side, and his eyes narrow.
“Connie has only been gone a year. Perhaps it’s too soon. And Emma is so much younger, and given the little I know of her past, she’s potentially vulnerable. I don’t want her staying with me because she sees me as a safe bet.”