DAMIEN TAKES US TO A high-end sushi restaurant in the busy part of the city. Sitting at a secluded table in the back, the staff, who seem well acquainted with him, keep putting plate after plate of weird stuff in front of us. Some of it looks like it’s ready to get up and crawl away. “So, any chance you’re going to tell me why you have me doing work that someone more qualified should be doing?” I ask, picking up my chopsticks and attempting the safest looking roll on the table.
“There’s nothing to tell. I want your opinion. Therefore, I’m asking for it.” An unattractive snort leaves my lips, and I quickly throw my hands over my mouth. “And what’s so humorous about that, Ms. Stone?” he asks, lifting his ceramic cup of sake to his lips and taking a sip.
“My help?” I laugh. “I’m a college student. First year, at that. I highly doubt my opinion’s going to help whatever it is you’re hoping for.” Lifting my own cup, I take a large sip and instantly choke, almost sputtering it back on the table. Bad move on my part. “What in God’s name…” I cough some more and grab for my water to wash down the nasty taste.
“It’s sake. And you don’t get offered a full scholarship to one of the top business colleges if you don’t know what you’re doing. You have almost all perfect test scores. Second chosen out of five in the program, not to mention seventh pick in all the district. Do you still think you’re not qualified to evaluate my business, or should I go on? Maybe discuss your science fair trophies—”
“Okay! I get it. Geez. What’d you do, hack my high school records?” The last thing I want to do is talk about how big of a dork I am. Damn love for science. “For real, how do you know all that?”
“I don’t involve myself with anyone without doing my research.”
Wow, good to know since I know absolutely nothing about him. Does knowing how amazing he is in bed count? How he smells like sandalwood and masculinity. How he makes my heart race anytime he’s near me? That my skin tingles at his touch or the butterflies who’ve taken permanent residency in my belly any time those eyes capture mine. My body seems to know him very well. But outside of the physical, I know zilch!
You know he’s not a serial killer.
That’s still just guessing! Serial killers could be great in bed too. So back to not know anything about him—I desperately feel the need to fix that.
“Well, I feel like I know nothing about you,” I start, trying not to sound first date cliché and all. Since this is not a date.
“What is it you think you want to know, Ms. Stone?”
I don’t know. Hobbies, favorite food, why he owns a sex club? I normally make it a thing to know more about the people I’m sexually involved with—oh wait, that’s like one other person. Either way, I would prefer to know more than a few simple details.
“What did you go to school for?” Really, Jensen? Way to do a crappy job at fishing for the answer to the real question of—
“You mean, how did I become the owner of a sex club? I believe that’s what you really want to know.”
Damn, he’s good.
“No. I wasn’t—”
“Exquisite was my father’s legacy. His creation. It landed on me by inheritance.”
Hmm, interesting. Not every day you hear the family business is a sex club. I nod with interest. “And where is your dad?”
“Dead.”
“Damien, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” I take a long sip of water to avoid the sudden awkwardness. I should have stuck to his favorite season or music preference. He remains stoic, indifferent. But there’s no denying the way the grip on his wine glass tightens.
“Don’t be. It was a long time ago, and he got what was coming to him. Why did you come to Chicago? You could have gone anywhere.”
Dammit with the topic change. I take another hefty sip. “Well, it wasn’t my first choice. I got accepted to Columbia in New York. They also offered me a pretty sweet scholarship. A better one than UIC. But Christine, my best friend, didn’t get accepted. So, we came to Chicago. Which is fine too. Chicago is a great place for arts and science too. I mean, nothing like New York, but I was okay with it.”
“Tell me more about the art.”
“It’s mainly photography. I love it. The dreamer in me wants to become a professional photographer. Be able to spend each day capturing people’s most intimate moments, the beauty of the rising sun, the blossoming of life, architecture…but that’s a passion. Realistically, I want to open my own business. So, learn the ropes first, decide what to open after.” I stop talking, realizing I’ve gone off into a childish tangent about my silly dreams. For someone who is successful in probably everything he touches, I’m sure I’ve put him half to sleep.
My eyes fall to my glass of water as I take a sip but realize it’s empty. I go in search of the waitress in major need of a distraction. Whenever Damien looks at me, it’s like he’s looking at me. Not in a simple connection sort of way. More intense. As if he’s trying to get below my skin. Read me from the inside out.
Unable to stall any longer, I bring my eyes back to his. And the second I do, I know I’ve made a mistake. Those amber flames burn into me, making it impossible not to get lost in his tantalizing gaze. I wait for him to reply, follow up with anything to my babbling, but he doesn’t. And his stare continues to do something to me down below.
He’s clearly a professional at the stare off game, because the room becomes a billion degrees hotter and my clothes suddenly feel too heavy over my now flushed skin. A second longer and I’m going to rip my shirt off and beg him to use those lips of his to cool me down. I call it quits and pull my eyes away from his. I hear a soft chuckle from across the table, but I don’t dare make eye contact. I scan the room, searching for anything that won’t trigger my hormones at the way his lips were pressing against the antique cup or the way his throat was contracting as he swallowed the sake. I shove what I believe to be a California roll into my mouth for distraction. Chewing down the gigantic bite, I can’t help but think about how damn sexy he looks in his casual pair of jeans and a crisp white Henley. To think I even tried to convince myself he was nothing to call home about. A muffled laugh travels up my throat and echoes throughout the restaurant. I quickly cover my mouth, not meaning to laugh out loud.
“Now I feel like I’m missing out. What’s so funny?”
“Um, nothing. Was thinking about…uh, school and—”
“The truth, Jensen.”
Dammit.
My mouth opens and closes, and I lift my eyes to his as my belly immediately tightens. “I was admiring your beauty.” There, I said it. And…what in the hell did I just say?
Damien lets out a soft chuckle. My face heats to a deep shade of red. He refills his sake cup and empties it in one swallow. Setting it down, he picks up his napkin and taps at his wet lips. Jesus, I want to be that napkin, pressed against those lips, feeling them on my skin. My sake cup is up, and I take an unladylike chug. Again, I choke. Man, didn’t I learn the first time?
“I believe you’re the beauty here.”
And… I choke again. It’s not every day that a sex god compliments me and calls me a beauty. So, excuse me while I suffocate on the meaning of his words. Not to mention the disgusting drink.
“Are you all right?” He reaches over, handing me his napkin.
I cough again, clearing my airways. “Yeah, fine. Sorry, your joke…good one.” I cough one more time. “And you don’t have to do that. There’s no reason to wine and dine me. Literally. I signed the contract. Unless you want to void it, there’s no need to fabricate things just to—”
“Don’t discredit me,” he cuts me off.
“I’m not. I’m just saying, I think calling me beautiful is a little much, don’t you think?”
“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t think it.”
I stare at him.
He stares back.
I bust out laughing. “Oh, please! You don’t think I’m gonna fall for this, do you? Capturing me with those sexy eyes, luring me into believing I’m some beauty and giving me some bullshit courage so I fall at your feet…trust me, it won’t work. I know what I look—”
Damien abruptly stands and tosses his napkin on the table. My mouth hangs open, startled at his sudden move.
“Get up. Let’s go.”
Shit.
“Why? I didn’t mean to—”
“Now.” He steps away from the table and stands next to me, towering over me, until I remove the napkin from my lap and rise from my chair. Damien throws a wad of money onto the table and grabs my hand, escorting us out of the quaint restaurant.
Maybe I should have just kept my mouth shut. Let him do his thing and feed me lies. Allow me to believe I’m beautiful. Now, not only have I made him mad, but I’m sure I just succeeded in getting our contract voided.
We step outside, and I turn toward where his car is valeted, but he pulls me in the opposite direction. I open my mouth to ask where we’re going, but in a few short steps, he’s opening the door to a fancy shop next door.
The bell above the door dings as we enter what seems to be an elegant dress boutique. “Damien, what are we doing here?” I ask, looking around. He doesn’t answer me. He’s yet to release me. Looking at the array of lavish gowns, Damien tugs me toward the back, forcing me to step onto a raised platform, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling mirrors. “What are we—”
“Look at yourself. What do you see?”
“What?” I scan my image in the mirror, then my eyes catch his. “I don’t under—”
“It’s simple. Tell me what you see.”
I return to my own reflection. I don’t know why he’s doing this. Maybe it’s his way of reminding me who I am. Who he is. I’m nothing compared to what he can have.
“I see a boring girl with nothing to offer. Is that what you want me to say?”
He rolls his hips, presses the front of his chest into my back sending shivers down my spine. “No, I want you to stop being childish and tell me what you really see.”
“I am telling you,” I say, my voice laced with annoyance. What does he want me to say? “What? You want me to say I’m plain? I have nothing you could possibly want or find attractive? God, I’m probably just a huge joke to you—whoa!”
Damien’s hands wrap around my hips, his rough grip searing into my skin. With force, he jerks my butt into him. He’s hard. My cheeks light with color as the feel of his dick presses between my butt cheeks. The slow buzz begins to spark at the heat building inside my belly. I can’t help the way my body comes alive whenever he touches me. It makes me feel wanted. The way his hands envelop around me make me feel I’m all his. Slowly, his head dips, and his warm breath hits the base of my neckline. “I don’t think you understand what I’m asking, so I’m going to point it out for you.” One hand releases and he drags his open palm up my back. My breath catches, unsure what’s happening. His large hand reaches my shoulder and brushes my hair away. His fingers latch around my thin shirt and pull the material away, exposing my bare skin.
“See this part of you? Your skin is smooth and pale, like porcelain. Perfect canvas for any man to mark you. A man like myself.” His lips find my skin. His mouth is gentle as he sucks on my flesh. He then pulls away, leaving a red mark in place of his mouth.
His hand is on the move again, fingers trailing up my neck and brushing along my lower lip. “These lips…if I were a better man, I would only confess that your smile gets my dick hard. But I can’t deny what these lips can do. The image of them wrapped around my cock…it’s fucking beautiful.” He presses down on my lip, causing them to part. His hand moves up the side of my cheek until his fingers thread through my hair. He gets a good grip on my hair and tugs, forcing my head to pull back. Bringing his lips to my ear, he continues. “There is nothing plain about the way your silky hair feels wrapped around my fingers. The thought of what it does to me to take control of you, ride you, fuck you…it makes me want to bend you over and fuck you right here, in front of this mirror, just so you can really see.”
His mouth wraps around the bottom of my ear and nips at my lobe. He sucks a bit harder than he did to my shoulder while his fingers are still locked to my roots. He pulls back a bit more, extending my neck. My head falls on his shoulder, and I close my eyes, lost in the way he’s making me feel. The visual he’s created causing my skin to flush.
He pushes himself into me again. If possible, he feels even larger against me. I’m trapped under his hold. His spell. His words that make me feel more powerful than I ever thought possible. “Do you finally see? Just how beautiful you are?”
My body is on fire, needing him to show me with his hands. I shake my head. I’m not beautiful. I’m nothing. “Why are you doing this?” I ask bluntly. It’s the question everyone’s dying to know—especially me. “We both know I’m not your type. I have no experience. Shit, I’m not even worth the trouble.”
Damien removes his left hand from my hip and brings it to my front. He cups my sex just long enough for me to squirm under his touch.
“You are very correct, Ms. Stone.” His hand travels up, past my navel, over my ribcage, until his large hand cups my right breast. “You’re nothing like what I normally indulge in, nor have I any idea what’s gotten into me to think this is a good idea.” My stomach drops at his confession. This isn’t starting off as good for my ego. “I should’ve sent you on your way the first night you stumbled into my club.” Don’t cry. Don’t cry, I beg myself, hoping I can save the shame of my tears for when I’m alone. “But you’ve captured my attention. Even more so, my appetite for curiosity. And you’ve made me extremely ravenous.”
I stop fighting back the tears of rejection at his last statement. “Wait, what?”
“I’m trying to tell you that you’re a bad idea, Jensen. But I can’t seem to convince myself you’re also not a great one.”
My head lifts, catching the fiery blaze in his eyes. “So, you don’t want to rip up our contract and go on your way?”
A sardonic laugh echoes throughout the store. “I’m far from being done with you.” He spins me around, our chests colliding. His lips dip to press against mine as the bell to the boutique rings and an array of voices fill the room, but I don’t care that we’re in public. That the customers who just walked in will witness us boldly kiss. I don’t care that—
“Oh my God, Jensen?”
I freeze in Damien’s arms.
There’s no hiding the rigidness in my body from Damien at the sound of Sylvia’s voice.
“Jensen Stone, is that you?”
I inhale a deep breath and pull away from Damien. I ignore his questioning stare, but don’t miss the flash of confusion, and perhaps anger, in his eyes. “Wow, fancy meeting you here,” I say, trying to figure out how I’m going to talk my way out of this one.
“Sure is, considering this is definitely not your kind of place.” Sylvia laughs, along with her entourage. I recognize Stephanie and Brooke, but the other two are unfamiliar to me. “Speaking of place, what happened to you last night? You were supposed to introduce me to—”
“Why wouldn’t this be a place for her?” Damien steps forward, placing his hand on my lower back.
Fuck.
I wish he would stay out of this. Maybe leave and let me handle the mean squad.
Sylvia’s eyes light up, fully acknowledging the person next to me. “Oh my, and who are you? I didn’t realize Jensen knew such…such…yumminess.”
Oh, give me a break.
My eyes can’t roll farther into the back of my head. I take a step away from Damien, not wanting Sylvia to get wind of who he is. “No one who concerns you,” I reply. Too bad she ignores me.
“Well, never say never.” She walks right up to him, practically pushing me out of the way, and sticks out her hand for him to take it. “Hello there, handsome,” she purrs. Damien doesn’t move a muscle to grab for her hand. “My name’s Sylvia. You must be Jensen’s new friend. The one we’ve all been dying to meet. She’s been keeping you all to herself. But you know what they say about destiny and us meeting like this.” She eliminates even more space between them, her voice lowering to just above a whisper. “I assume Jensen’s already mentioned me, and my interest?”
Her hand goes up to touch his chest, and my natural instinct to karate kick it away is in full effect, but Damien beats me to it and snatches her wrist before she makes contact. “I asked you a question.” He squeezes tighter, but it does the opposite of scaring her off. It eggs her on.
“Oh, I’m sorry, sir.” She giggles, and Damien drops her hand as if it’s on fire. “Well, we are in a dress shop, aren’t we? Pricy one at that. And come on” —she turns to me—“we all know this is out of Jensen’s realm. Honey, you’re too…how shall I say, scrawny.”
Her entourage bursts out laughing, and my cheeks flare crimson with embarrassment at the insult right in front of Damien. My mind starts racing with a million scenarios at once. Murder in a dress shop. Clawing her eyes out. Letting her win and ball my eyes out for once again allowing her to make me feel so inadequate.
Before I have a chance to do anything, Damien encroaches in Sylvia’s space. Even with her heels on, he hovers over her. “What a vile mouth you have on you, little one.” He leans over her, and latches his hand around a loose curl, putting her hair between his fingers. “One thing is correct. This place doesn’t fit her.”
Sylvia’s smile is a kick to my stomach. I pull away from Damien, knowing this is my cue to leave before I break down and cry, but his hand grabbing mine stops me. Damien drops the curl in disgust and reaches for something inside the pocket of his coat jacket.
“Excuse me, can I help all of you?” An older woman approaches, clearly an employee of the store.
“Yes, you can.” Damien pulls out a business card and hands it to the seamstress. “I don’t see anything in this store worthy enough for my girlfriend. I must say, I thought this was a high-end boutique. I want you to reach out to your in-house seamstress and have her call my private line. Have her come to my office and exclusively measure and fit her with the finest fabrics. Stop at no expense. She deserves the best.”
Everyone’s mouth practically drops to the floor, including my own. The employee slowly reaches out and takes the card from Damien’s tight grip and he nods, bringing his searing eyes back to Sylvia. With a calm intensity that brings a chill to the room, he speaks. “Again, thank you for pointing that out. Ms. Stone is far too rare to be caught in anything this store carries.” He turns to me. “Are you done here? We don’t want to be late for the appointment at the jewelers.” He locks his arm around my waist and presses me to his side. While all the girls stare in disbelief, he takes it a step further and presses a gentle kiss to the base of my neck. Showing a sign of ownership. He’s telling them that I’m his. My tongue is locked in my throat, so I don’t say another word as Damien leads us out of the boutique. Stepping onto the sidewalk, he drops his hold around my waist and guns it for his car.
“I can explain,” I blurt out, trying to keep up with his fast pace. Sylvia couldn’t make it any more obvious she knew who he was. She practically threw herself at him.
“You don’t need to explain anything. I clearly understood the situation.” He doesn’t bother to stop and face me while responding. I’m unsure why he’s so mad. Was it because others know about the club? Are we really in a hurry for a jeweler’s appointment?
“I kinda do, though. And are we really going to a jewelry appointment? I don’t need anything. Seriously, you don’t need to buy me—”
He halts, and whips around, causing me to slam into his chest. “I wasn’t planning on it.” My face falls, and while I quickly try to school my features, I know I do a terrible job at hiding my reaction to his hurtful reply. He sighs loudly and runs his fingers through his hair. “That’s not what I meant. If I thought that’s what you truly wanted, I’d buy you the goddamn store. But you don’t need any of that fancy shit. It doesn’t suit you. Your beauty outweighs all that material bullshit.” Neither of us says a word. He closes his eyes briefly and reopens, taking in a deep breath. “Are those the twits who have been sending you those nasty messages?”
“Huh?”
“That girl. Sylvia. It’s her. The one who holds your friendship hostage?”
He stares down at me. He’s angry. His eyes light with that fury I’ve come to recognize. I just can’t figure out why he’s the one so upset. “Yeah…but it’s fine. I have her handled.”
He sarcastically laughs. “Looks like it.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” I tug at my wrist he has yet to let go of.
“It means, if you gave those spoiled little brats half the pushback you give me, you wouldn’t be dealing with them. I just thought you were better than that. I would never have thought someone as strong-minded as you could be pushed around by a less than average twit.”
This time, I jerk hard enough, and he releases me. His words sting worse than anything Sylvia has thrown at me. I am strong. He has no right to label me. “You have no idea who I am.”
“I beg to differ.”
“What? Because you’ve had sex with me?” I spit out.
“Sex can tell a lot about a person.”
“Well, it tells nothing about me. You know nothing about me.” I move out of his way and walk past him, but he reaches out, clasping his fingers around my bicep. “Let me go.” I whip around, offering him the same angry glare he’s giving me.
“I know way more about you than you think. Is your anger at me or the truth I speak? Would you have continued to allow those girls to cut you down if I didn’t step in?”
“I didn’t need you to save me.”
“I know. You don’t need anyone to save you.”
I open my mouth to tell him he’s right, but his ringtone breaks the moment. He lets me go and reaches for his phone in his jeans pocket. His eyes darken even more, and he answers.
“What is it? When? Put him in the conference room. I’ll be right there.” Ending the call, he pulls his eyes away from me. “This chat needs to be tabled for now. I’ll take you home.”
And just like that, he shuts down. Gone is the attentive man who whispered such powerful words in the dress shop to make me feel whole inside. Gone is the angry man who wants me to admit my fears. Disappointment is far from the way to describe how I feel.
He drops me off without another word, leaving me so confused and hurt. I’m accustomed to being by myself, but suddenly, lying in my quiet dorm room, I’ve never felt so alone. Everything in my life is spiraling. My friendship with Christine. School. The predicament I’ve found myself in with Damien.
I would do anything for Christine and our friendship, but sitting in my bed, my doubts weigh heavy on me. If I sat here and put some real thought to it, has it really ever been a two-way street for us? Or has it always been Christine asking and me always saying yes. Has our friendship ever been real to begin with?
I swipe at the fallen tear, realizing my answer. It’s always been about her. Our wingman status was never about us sticking together, thick and thin. It’s been about me tagging along to parties I was never truly invited to while she ditched me the second we walked in for her current crush. Helping her get out of trouble with our parents when she drank too much, taking the blame because we knew my punishment would be way less than hers. The homework. The essays I wrote. I can go on. All the giving I did and taking she took. But what did she give in return?
A small sob escapes my lips. She gave me the only friend I’ve ever truly had. And maybe deep down I knew what she was doing the whole time. And I accepted it because I needed her in my own way. She may not have returned the favors, but she stayed my friend. She gave me that someone who listened when I needed to vent about our family struggles. My parents always fighting. The fears they would split. I’d never go to college. Would I ever truly kiss a boy?
I laugh at that knowing the answer now.
But that brings me to the most confusing part of all. Damien. What am I doing with him? Why am I sticking around? Because he makes you feel. But is the risk worth the reward? He will hurt me in the end. If he hasn’t already. This won’t end like those fairy tale endings do. We won’t ride off into the sunset together while he confesses his deep and ever dying love for me. I’ll be just another toy as he claims I am to him. Then, walk away Jensen. See, that’s the thing. I can’t. I’m the foolish girl in this story who loses in the end.
I go to bed, snuggled under my covers, alone and even more confused. I feel like I have so many decisions to make. Do I fight for my friendship with Christine? Do I stand up to Sylvia and tell her I’m not going to be her little punching bag anymore? Do I stand up to Damien and show him I’m not some little girl, who doesn’t know what she wants. And that I may just want him?