Chapter Eleven
Emma
It feels like finals week is taking forever. I’m totally sleep deprived and crazy, even though I haven’t been studying nearly as much as I should.
It’s because I’ve been spending so much time with Damien, holed up in the woods.
“Do you want seconds?”
Damien grins as he stands there with a giant plate of cheeseburgers. They’re bloody and dripping grease and they smell almost too good to take.
“Oh, yes,” I say happily. I take another bun from the package on the table and rip it open. Damien expertly places two patties on top and I squish the bun down until grease oozes onto my plate.
“Good,” Damien says. “These are never good leftover.” He helps himself to a single burger, then sits down and watches as I take my first bite. I can feel juice oozing down my chin and I flush hotly, but Damien reaches over and wipes my chin with a napkin.
“I take it you liked your present,” I say shyly as I look over at the big basket I brought.
Damien nods. “It was thoughtful of you.”
“I would go crazy if I had to live without all of my favorite snack foods for years,” I say as I take another huge bite. Like everything Damien makes, the cheeseburgers are perfect. They’re exactly medium-rare, just like I like them. And the smoked gouda I brought from town tastes excellent with the charred meat.
“I’ve managed to survive without fancy cheese,” Damien says dryly. “But thank you anyways.” He takes a huge bite and wipes his beard with a napkin. I can’t be sure, but it looks as though he’s started to groom a little more carefully since we first met. He’s been trimming his beard nearly every day and his hair is pulled back into a sexy man bun. I want to take it down and run my fingers through it.
Ever since I got here, I’ve been itching to touch Damien. We’ve developed a kind of routine – or I’ve begun initiating one, and he hasn’t stopped me yet. Every three or four days, I come by his cabin. At first it was just for dinner, some sexy times, and then goodbye. I’d always be home in bed by midnight or one. But the last time I was here, I spent the night. There was dinner, conversation, love-making, more love-making, and then before I knew it, I’d fallen asleep in his arms. Plus, he didn’t wake me. Instead, the next morning I woke up, tousled and dazed, only to be treated to a delicious breakfast of pancakes.
So yeah, I’m not sure where this is going, but the path seems promising. It’s intoxicating and thrilling and magical. I’ve never spent time with a man like Damien before. He’s so intelligent and charismatic and charming, at least once you make it past the gruff exterior.
I adore everything about him.
I’m just worried that he sees me as a silly girl, or someone who isn’t worth his time in the long run. He’s probably just wasting time with me. Heck, he’s probably just flattered that he met someone who likes his cooking so much.
“You know, I do really miss Doritos,” Damien muses thoughtfully. He gives me a sly glance. “Maybe the next time you come over, you could bring some of those. Nacho not Cool Ranch, if you don’t mind, sweetheart.”
I have to clamp my lips together so my bite of burger doesn’t fall out on my plate. He wants to see me again?
And bring Doritos, of all things? I smile while rolling my eyes.
“Oh, um, yeah, I can do that,” I guffaw. With a sassy smile, I wolf down my burger. I don’t want Damien to think I don’t like his cooking after all.
The man looks pleased.
“Cool.” Damien finishes his food and clears his plate. Without asking, he takes mine too and rinses both in the sink. My face is still hot and flushed from his casual comment. I don’t get it – when we first met, he did everything in his power to push me away. But now he’s asking me to bring him snack foods from the outside world? It’s just too funny.
Damien puts the rinsed plates on a small rack and turns out the kitchen light. He jerks his head to the side, indicating that he wants me to follow him into the living room. I get to my feet and pad slowly behind him. He settles down on the couch.
Damien pats the leather next to him. “Emma, come sit,” he commands in a low voice that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
I nod. I can’t disobey him – it’s like everything he says is God’s word. Taking a deep breath, I settle down next to him on the couch. I don’t know what he has in mind. His blue eyes are always so intense that I have trouble reading them.
To my surprise, Damien puts his arm around my shoulders. My head falls against his chest until I find that perfect hollow just below his collarbone that feels like it was made for me. When I feel Damien’s rough fingers stroking my hair, a shudder of pleasure runs down my spine and my pussy tingles. Any moment now, I know he’s going to put his mouth to mine and kiss me.
But he doesn’t. He keeps stroking my hair, brushing his fingertips from the top of my scalp to the nape of my neck. It feels so good that I close my eyes and curl closer to him. He smells like wood smoke and sweat, but in a clean way, and the scent is as intoxicating as a big glass of wine. Whenever Damien and I are apart, I miss his scent most of all.
“That feels so good,” I murmur sleepily. I put an arm around Damien’s muscular chest and pull myself closer, throwing one of my legs over his lap. He puts his free hand on my thigh and kneads the skin gently. I’m surprised – I’d expected him to attack me with wild lust by now.
But somehow, this snuggling feels almost more intimate than sex. I can feel my body growing weightless with exhaustion and I don’t even realize it when I drift off in Damien’s arms.
“Emma, wake up.”
“Huh?” My mind is foggy and I’m so comfortable – I don’t want to move from this warm, safe nest. I’m wrapped up in blankets but when I reach for Damien, the other side of the bed is empty. My eyes flash open and I see the alpha standing by the side of the bed. Sunlight is streaming in through the windows and my limbs are stiff.
Looking down, I realize that I must have fallen asleep in my clothes.
“Shit,” I mutter as I sit up and stretch. “What time is it?”
“It’s after eleven-thirty,” Damien says. His voice is low and humorless but a smirk stretches across his face. “You must have been really tired.”
“I was in a food coma,” I joke as I roll over and climb out of bed. My clothes are rumpled and my mouth tastes horrible. Covering my lips with both hands, I stumble into the bathroom and rinse my mouth out with water. I splash some on my face, too. My skin is puffy and I know my hair looks terrible, but thankfully Damien doesn’t have a mirror.
When I get back to the bedroom, it’s empty. Damien has pulled the blankets up and I yawn again as I walk into the living room. There’s a heavenly smell coming from the kitchen and I moan softly as I realize Damien’s making bacon and eggs.
I walk into the kitchen and sit down at the table. The wood is smooth and polished, and I like to think of Damien building this table himself. His hands are so scarred and calloused that I know it must have taken a huge effort.
Damien slides a plate in front of me heaped with bacon and fried eggs. The yolks are runny and perfect, and I break a piece of bacon in half to dip in the creamy yellow goodness.
“How are you such an amazing cook?” I grouse as I slice into my eggs with a fork and take a bite. “And while I’m at it, I need to bring you some ketchup from the outside world,” I add. “Or do you have some lurking around somewhere?”
Damien snorts. “That stuff is full of sugar, but go ahead,” he says. “If you like it, I should keep it on hand.”
For the second time in twenty-four hours, I feel my heart leap into my throat. What the heck is he doing, making all of these comments? It’s like he actually wants me around?
I take a long time over my breakfast until every slice of bacon is eaten and every egg is demolished. When I’m done, I get up with my plate in hand, but Damien takes it from me.
“You should put your shoes on,” he says. “I’m sure you’ll be missed at home. You’ve been gone more than a day.”
Guilt flashes over me when I think of my mom, but then I remember the sound of my father’s cruel laughter and the guilt immediately fades. Ugh. Home.
Still, Damien is right. Besides, I can’t hang around his little cabin all day. I’d surely get in the way of whatever he has to do, whether it’s chopping wood, hauling water, or shooting wild animals. I have no idea where he gets his money, but he seems well-supplied with food stuffs and firewood somehow.
“Yeah. You’re right, I should go,” I say. I reluctantly get to my feet and wash my hands at the sink. My stomach is stuffed full of breakfast and I feel more content than I have in a long time, but that sweet happiness is tempered with dread.
Because I don’t want to go home. Not now, and not ever. I want to stay in the woods with Damien and hide from society. Aside from my mother and Lacey, I don’t even have any friends. Why the heck would I want to go back out there where there’s crime and poverty, not to mention the daily trauma of my dad beating on my mom in little ways?
At first, I thought that it was weird how Damien prefers the company of leaves and trees to people, but now I think that I’m starting to understand.
“Are you okay?”
Damien’s voice jolts me out of my head and I look up and blink to see him standing there with a frown on his handsome face.
“Yeah.” I shake my head and shrug. “I think I’m just tired.”
Damien nods. “Come on,” he says. “I’ll walk you back.”
We walk through the woods in silence. Now that I’m not lost and terrified on my own, I can understand why Damien likes it so much back here. The scenery really is beautiful. It’s so serene and peaceful. And I’m getting better with directions, too. At first I was so confused. But now I can listen to the sound of the wind and the rush of the falls and actually know where I am. Who woulda thunk? Emma Hadley, who was once afraid of her own shadow, is now confident enough to walk in the forest alone.
When we get the fork in the road that leads to town, I turn to Damien with a heavy heart. Everything in my body is screaming for him – I want to throw my arms around his neck and never let go.
“You sure you won’t come with me?” I joke.
Damien narrows his eyes. “No,” he growls. “That isn’t an option.”
“I know,” I say weakly. “I was just kidding.”
“See you, Emma,” Damien says. He turns to leave and my heart lurches in my chest.
“I’ll bring Doritos next time!” I call to his departing back. “And ketchup!”
Damien doesn’t turn around, but something tells me that he’s smiling as he walks away.
The long walk back home doesn’t bother me as much this time. Despite the huge meals that I’m eating with Damien, I can tell that all of this exercise is starting to pay off. I’m still plump, but I can tell that I’m getting stronger. And who knows, maybe being strong and healthy is more important than being skinny.
Like I could ever be skinny, anyway.
By the time I get home, it’s early afternoon. Perfect. My mother usually takes her disco naps in the early afternoon to prep for her night life of charity balls and gallery openings, and my father is usually in his office or out of the house.
I breathe a sigh of relief as I step into the foyer and find it quiet. Good. Now I can go upstairs and get a shower before anyone—
“Emma.”
The sound of my name makes me leap into the air and gasp. Whirling around, I see my father standing there. For once, he’s smiling. The smile doesn’t look normal on him, though, and for a moment I think it’s because he’s usually frowning.
Then I realize that his eyes are still ice cold despite his upturned lips.
“Hi, Daddy,” I say nervously. “What’s up? You’re not usually home right now. Are you sick?”
“I should ask where you’ve been, but I don’t really care now that you’re home,” Jason says in his usual cold tone. “Anyway, I have news for you. Come with me.”
My legs turn to jelly as my father leads me into his office. I can’t remember the last time I was in here. When I was a little kid, Lacey and I snuck in once but thankfully it was my mother who caught us and not my father. Instead of getting punished, Mom served us cookies and made us promise never to snoop again.
I swallow painfully hard at the memory. Even though I’m only in my early twenties, childhood seems really long ago and far away.
My father closes the door behind us and crosses the room. He takes a seat behind his desk and I nervously lower myself into the leather chair across from him. It’s almost too narrow for my ass and I grunt as I shift my thighs to fit. My father smirks unpleasantly as I wriggle from side to side.
“So, um, what is it?” I ask nervously. My palms are sweaty and no matter how many times I wipe them on my thighs, the sweat won’t dry.
“I’m glad you asked,” my father replies. He steeples his hands together and gives me an arch look. “I’m sending you to a rehabilitation facility. You’ll be going tomorrow, for the week before Christmas.”
I blink at him. “What?”
“Emma, you’re not stupid,” my father says. “I know you’ve heard of rehab before. Come on, don’t you watch television?”
“But…but I’m not on drugs,” I say softly, shaking my head. “Dad, you know I’d never touch that stuff. I’ve never even smoked a cigarette before!”
My father clicks his tongue against his teeth and shakes his head. “Emma, you don’t understand,” he says slowly. “This isn’t for drugs. This is a different kind of facility. A kind of facility that caters to girls like you.”
I wrinkle my nose in confusion. “What do you mean, girls like me? Dad, I told you. I’m a good kid. I go to school. I have friends. I’m not a troublemaker.” My heart is racing as I speak. I know that Dad can’t possibly know about Damien and what we do together in the woods, but part of me is wondering if this so-called rehab is a program for sex addicts.
My father sighs deeply, as if the mere mention of my mother has exhausted him. “Emma, I don’t think you understand. Use your brain. Look at yourself.”
When I don’t move, my father slams his fist down on the desk. The sound startles me and I jump in my chair, dragging the feet across the wooden floor with a painful screech.
“You can barely fit in that chair,” my father says derisively. “You’re a cow. I don’t even know what size you wear, but your mother has told me that clothing from regular stores won’t fit you anymore.”
My cheeks burn bright red with shame as I look down at my belly. It’s poking out of my shirt and a huge lump of shame wells in my throat.
“You’ve let yourself go,” my father continues. “And that might be fine for some people, but not the daughter of Jason Hadley.”
I gasp. “What are you talking about? Why does my weight have anything to do with you and your business?”
My father sighs. “You really don’t get it, do you? You’ve skated by your whole life, Emma, and I’m not going to let that continue. You’re an adult, and it’s time to take control of your own life. Do you really think that anyone will want to marry you if you stay looking like that?”
My mind immediately leaps to Damien. How he loves cooking for me, and how he always makes sure that I have enough to eat.
“I haven’t skated by,” I protest feebly. “I’ve done whatever you’ve told me. Dad, I’ve taken tons of classes that I never wanted to take, just because you thought it would be good for me. Like Accounting. I was never interested in the subject, you just wanted me to take it.”
“And you’re a mediocre student at best,” my father snaps.
I squint at him in disbelief. “And you think that sending me to a fat farm will fix all of that? Because, Dad, I have news for you – it won’t. If I get skinnier, it’s not going to turn me into a brain trust with a mind for business.”
To my surprise, my dad throws his head back and laughs. “Emma, god, you really are stupid, aren’t you! Of course losing weight won’t make you any smarter. Has all that fat gone to your head, too?”
My jaw drops. All I can do is stare.
“My company is about to go public, and we’ll be richer than ever. We’ll be traveling in far better social circles. Think of the things your mother will be able to do for charity!”
“And? So?”
“And a beached whale simply won’t be welcome in those circles,” my father says cruelly. “You think you had a hard time finding clothes to fit you before? Try finding a couture gown to mask all of that blubber!”
Something inside of my heart snaps, like a rubber band. I expect to tremble as I get to my feet but instead I feel calmer and more collected than I have in years.
“I’m not going,” I announce clearly. “And I don’t know how you can think these terrible things about me. I’m your only daughter!”
My father glares at me. “Yes, and you’re a fat cow. Don’t fight me on this, Emma. You’re going. A space has already been booked for you at Trim Acres.”
I turn on my heel and stalk out of his office with tears stinging my eyes.
“You leave first thing tomorrow!” my father says from behind me.
I break into a run and dart up the steps to my room just as I hear his office door slam shut. Taking the stairs two at a time, I bolt up to my room and close the door behind me. My heart is thudding as I lock the door with trembling fingers.
For a moment, it hurts too much to even cry. My father, the man who should always have my best interests at heart, hates me. He’s ashamed of me.
Jason doesn’t even want to be seen in public with me. I take a deep, shuddering breath and lean against the door. What did I do to make my father stop loving me?
I wonder what it will be like. Trim Acres. Even the name is enough to make me sick. I picture myself huffing and puffing away at various exercises, my clothes stained with sweat. I think about the food: it’s definitely not going to be like the rich, sumptuous meals at Damien’s cabin. More like veggies and water, or a diet of black bread and rice. Ugh.
I can’t go. The idea of going somewhere like that for my father is nauseating. I’ve always done exactly what my father has wanted, and look where it’s gotten me. Sheltered and heartbroken and ashamed of myself.
Well, I’m not doing that anymore. With a sigh, I step away from the door and turn to my closet. I stand on tiptoe and reach inside for my suitcase. A grunt escapes my lips as my fingers brush against the monogrammed canvas. When it tumbles free, it brings a ton of folded clothes with it.
Now that I know what I’m going to do, I’m strangely not nervous at all. My heart is still racing but the trembling has stopped and I unzip the suitcase with ease. Think, Emma, think, I order myself as I glance around my room at the chaos of clothing.
I don’t have much room. I’m only going to be able to take the things that I love most.
I glance about the space. There are so many memories that I have of this place. The thought of leaving home for good doesn’t make me so much sad as it does nostalgic. I’ll never have Lacey over again for late night pizza and movie marathons. And my mom won’t show up at the door with a freshly-baked platter of chocolate cookies anymore.
Suddenly, a lance of pain shoots through my heart. God, my mom. The thought of leaving her is the only thing holding me back. I love Ramona, despite our complicated relationship. It makes me ashamed to think that she knows exactly what my father said to me. I wonder if he said anything similar to her, like if he threatened her with plastic surgery or something equally insulting.
I struggle to push the thought of my mind. As desperately as I love my mother, I can’t set myself on fire to keep her warm. I’m an adult now, and I have to make my own decisions. I’ve hidden behind her skirts for too long.
Dropping to my knees, I start sorting through my untidy piles of clothes. They’re all pretty much the same – expensive tunics of a soft material meant to conceal my big curves. Mom’s seamstress made all of them, so it’s like I have the same outfit in ten different colors. I’ve never cared for them much, but I have to wear something. I pick three and stuff them into a suitcase, followed by a few pairs of leggings. Panties are easier.
Besides, I should have a lot of those on hand just in case Damien feels like ripping them off.
The thought makes me blush and I pause for a moment as I remember the electric touch of his fingers on my skin. Damien. Just thinking about his name is enough to fill me full of hope. My life will improve if I’m with him, snug and safe in his cabin. Things will get better.
I can’t wait to be with him once more.
When I’m finished packing, my tiny suitcase is bulging. I have to sit on it to get it to zip, and a grunt escapes my lips as my fingers tug at the zipper. As soon as it’s ready I slip on a pair of ankle boots and pull a black hoodie over my head.
Now all I have to do is wait.
Time seems to creep by at an alarmingly slow pace. I stay in my bedroom and listen for sounds from downstairs. Normally Gina serves dinner around six, but tonight the house is quiet. A lump forms in my throat when I think about leaving without saying goodbye to my mother.
Maybe I can send her a postcard?
At nine-thirty, I hear footsteps in the hallway. They pad closer to my door and I freeze. Any minute now my mom could walk in and see the suitcase. I could just tell her that I’m ready for Trim Acres, but I don’t want to lie. Not to my mom.
“Emma?” Ramona knocks softly on the door. “Are you asleep?”
I swallow hard. “I’m not feeling very well tonight,” I call out in a feeble voice. “’I’m not coming down to dinner.”
“Gina made a plate for you and left it in the fridge. Lots of healthy stuff,” Mom answers. She sounds sad and concerned. “If you want it later, just go downstairs and heat it up.”
“Okay.” God, I hate this. Lying by omission is almost worse than regular lying. I feel terrible and guilty for wishing that my mother would just leave me alone.
“Goodnight, sweetie,” Mom says from the other side of the door. “Sleep well.”
“You, too,” I say. I clear my throat. “Mom?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
“Oh Emma, honey. I love you, too. Is everything okay?”
I wipe a tear from my eyes and force a smile so that Mom won’t be able to hear anything off in my voice.
“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. Just tired.”
“Okay, sweetie. Good night.”
“Night.”
My mother’s footsteps grow fainter and fainter until I’m left in silence once more. My stomach is a tangle of knots as I pick up my suitcase and creep to the door of my room. When I open the door, I see that the hallway is dark and empty.
Good.
Taking a deep breath, I stealthily creep out, making my way down the stairs. My suitcase is heavier than I thought it would be and I have to walk extra carefully so that the stairs don’t squeak under our combined weight. As soon as I’m in the foyer, I breathe another sigh of relief.
Almost there.
But as my hand reaches for the front door, I hear the loud sound of someone clearing their throat. Gasping, I whirl around to see Gina standing there with a puzzled look on her face.
“Miss Emma,” Gina says softly. “What are you doing?”
I flush hotly.
“Are you running away?”
“I’m twenty-one,” I say defensively. “It’s not running away if you’re an adult.”
To my surprise, Gina chuckles. “No,” she says. “It’s not.”
“Please don’t tell my parents,” I beg. “Or at least don’t say anything until morning. Please, Gina. This is really important.”
Gina shakes her head. “Child, if I had to live with your father, I’d have run off a long time ago,” she says. “I won’t say anything. You have my word.”
My shoulders sag as I sigh gratefully. “Thank you,” I say softly. “Gina, you have no idea how much that means to me.”
A funny look crosses her face.
“Wait,” Gina says. “Hold on.” She disappears into the kitchen and I’m left in the foyer with a puzzled look on my face. When she reappears, she’s carrying a brown paper sack.
“What is this?”
“I made your father lunch for his meeting tomorrow morning,” Gina says with a mischievous grin on her face. “But I think you’ll enjoy it more.”
I smile happily as I open the bag and inhale the scent of cold roast beef and cheddar. “This smells incredible,” I admit. My mouth begins to water and I fold the bag over, clutching it tightly in one hand. “Thank you.”
Gina steps closer and pulls me into a deep hug. “Of course,” she says. “Good luck, baby. I know you’re gonna be just fine.”
Tears sting my eyes for the second time and I brush them away. Gina opens the door for me and I walk out into the dark night, away from the influence of my father forever.
By the time I get to the wooden trail, it’s freezing cold. I start to wish that I’d brought a warmer coat, but the thought of Damien’s cozy fireplace is enough to make me pick up my pace and move faster. Soon I’m almost jogging through the woods with a suitcase in one hand and Gina’s gift in the other.
When I reach Damien’s cabin, I’m sweaty and out of breath. I set down my suitcase and shift my weight nervously from one foot to the other as I knock on the door.
What if he turns me away? What if he won’t let me stay here with him?
Suddenly, I’m nervous. I know that I should have thought of these things before I left home, but there wasn’t time. I was just so upset that I could hardly process anything. Plus, it’s not like he has a cell to call.
When Damien opens the door, my heart lurches to the side at the sight of him. He looks as sexy as ever, in a pair of dark jeans and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his muscular arms. He looks down at my suitcase.
We stand in silence for a few seconds, and then everything hits me at once. The anger, the fear, the hurt, the betrayal – everything my father made me feel. Not to mention the guilt of leaving my mother behind in such a place. Tears flood my eyes and I stagger forward until I’m sobbing against Damien’s burly chest.
“Shhh, Emma, it’s okay,” Damien says in a low, soothing voice. He puts his arms around me and pulls me close as my sobs become harder and harder. I’m barely aware of Damien scooping me up and carrying me inside. When he sets me down on the couch, I throw myself at him and bury my face in his neck. My face is hot and puffy and flushed from tears, but I don’t care. I cry and cry until there’s nothing left and I feel empty inside.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Damien asks. He pulls away and cups my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Or do I have to guess?”
I take a deep breath and wipe my nose on the sleeve of my hoodie. “My father wanted to send me to fat camp,” I mutter as my cheeks burn bright red. “And I won’t go. I’m twenty-one. I’m not a child anymore, and I don’t have to listen to him.”
Damien’s face turns murderously angry. “That’s disgusting,” he mutters under his breath. “Emma, you’re gorgeous. You don’t need to lose any weight.”
I flush again. “Not according to Jason Hadley,” I mutter under my breath.
Damien flinches.
“What?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”
Damien shakes his head. “Nothing,” he replies. “I just can’t believe your father would do something so despicable.”
I sigh and close my eyes, leaning against Damien’s shoulder and staring up at the ceiling. “I can,” I mutter under my breath. “You don’t know my father. He’s been a jerk my entire life. All I’ve ever wanted was to be a good daughter, but he’s made it quite clear that I can’t meet his standards.”
Damien is silent. He strokes his hand through my hair and massages the back of my neck with one of his giant hands. It feels so good that for a moment, I forget all about my father’s insulting idea.
“So I left,” I say quietly. “I’m over eighteen, I can do whatever I want. And I will do whatever I want – I can get a job and finish school, but if I have to put it off, I will. Or I could always take courses online, too.”
“You’re smart,” Damien replies. He continues stroking my hair and the touch of his fingers is enough to make me melt in his arms. “You can do whatever you want.”
I sigh and snuggle closer. I like that he’s not judging me. I’m sure that I probably seem like a spoiled and ungrateful brat. But I feel so comfortable talking to Damien. It’s like I can tell him anything and he won’t bat an eyelash.
“My dad is taking his company public,” I continue softly. “He’ll be richer than Croesus now. I mean, he already has an obscene amount of money. But this is really going to put him on a new level. That’s why he wanted me to go to a fat farm. He told me that an obese girl wouldn’t be welcome in his new social circles, whatever they are,” I say bitterly.
“Bastard,” Damien mutters under his breath. “The things I’d do to him for speaking that way to you.”
Damien’s words warm my heart. I can’t believe he feels so protective of me. This is completely new to me – I’ve never had someone care so much that they’d be willing to stand up to my father.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “It doesn’t matter how much money my dad makes, though. It’s not going to change a thing. He’ll always be a cold-hearted bastard.”
Damien is silent. I rest my head on his shoulder as the fire crackles and pops in the grate. It’s crazy how being with him is enough to make me feel better. Just sharing the couch and snuggling has lifted my spirits and I’m no longer afraid or unhappy.
“Xander Corp. will finally be on the map in the way my dad always wanted,” I add. “Good for him, I guess.”
Damien stiffens against me and I sit up. Turning to face him, I reach out and run my hand down his arm.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Did I say something?”
Damien shakes his head. “No,” he says. “It’s just the ache in my bones. I’m getting old, that’s all.” He has an odd expression on his handsome face, but I don’t think much of it. After all, I just dropped a ton of information on him … and I can imagine he’s probably a little overwhelmed. It’s been so long since he was in the public eye that he’s probably forgotten how cruel and dramatic people can be.
“Can I stay here?” I ask softly. “I mean, I could always go to my friend Lacey’s. But Damien, the first person I thought of was you. I want to be here with you. I’m happy here with you.”
The expression on Damien’s face grows even stranger and I wonder if I’ve said too much. But before I can say anything else, Damien roughly grabs me and pulls me into a fierce bear hug.
“You can stay,” he growls in my ear. “It’s no problem, baby girl. My home is your home.”
I melt against him in relief. “Thank you so much,” I say softly. “You have no idea how much better this makes me feel.”
As Damien and I sink back into the comfort of the couch cushions, a powerful feeling of calm washes over me. For the first time since speaking with my father earlier in the day, I feel safe and content. I know that now, nothing bad will happen to me. Damien will protect me and keep me out of harm’s way.
He’s my strong mountain beast, and I feel nothing but intense love for him. There’s no one else on earth, not even Lacey, with whom I feel so safe and perfect. Damien doesn’t want me to change or to lose weight, he loves me for exactly who I am.
How the heck did I get so lucky?