Chapter Nine
Emma
This time, Damien doesn’t have to lead the way. I’m able to keep pace with him as we make our way out of the woods and back to town.
Something’s wrong. I don’t know what’s bothering him, but I can tell that there’s definitely something on Damien’s mind. But every time I ask him about it, he doesn’t reply.
“You can talk to me,” I say, offering the words like an olive branch. “I promise, I’m not going to tell anyone.”
The moon is shining high overhead in the sky and the nighttime air is chill and calm as we walk along in silence.
“Really,” I add. “Damien, I hardly even have any friends. And it’s not like I could ever— “
“Emma, enough,” Damien snaps. “Please. I don’t feel like having a conversation with you right now.”
I pout. His words sting – especially because I thought we’d been getting closer.
“Fine,” I mutter under my breath. “Don’t worry about it, then.”
Rocks and leaves crunch under my feet as I trudge along the road. By now, I recognize exactly where we are. We’re almost back to the road that leads into town, and my heart lurches when I realize that soon, it’ll be time to say goodbye.
I take a big gulp of air and swallow it nervously. I don’t want to go back to my boring life. I want to stay with Damien in his rustic little cabin, eating his stew and warming my feet by the fire.
Most of all, I want to stay in Damien’s bed. I want him to pull me into his arms and kiss me. I want him to hold me tight, all night long.
And I want his cock deep inside my pussy.
“Here we are,” Damien says gruffly. He clears his throat and stops walking.
I bite my lip and turn to him. In the moonlight, I can see the sharp angles of his cheekbones. His sapphire eyes look black.
“You’ll be fine on your own,” Damien says.
The tension between us is growing thicker with each passing second and again, I have to stifle the urge to throw my arms around his neck and crush my body to his. But the chance is slipping away, and I know I can’t do that.
I don’t have the courage to admit how I’m feeling. So I stare at Damien until he narrows his eyes.
“I don’t want to go,” I say softly. “I wish I could stay here with you.”
“Emma,” Damien says slowly. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I do,” I insist. “I feel safe with you, Damien. Why can’t you just believe me?”
“Because you’re too young to know what you want,” Damien growls. “And I can’t let you get hurt.”
Before I can argue, he’s slipped away into the trees like some kind of phantom. I’m left standing there alone, and I feel like the world’s biggest fool.
How could a man like Damien Evercore ever want someone like me?
Goose bumps break out over my skin and I wrap my arms around myself and hug myself tightly. Damien must still be close by, but I can’t hear him – he’s so stealthy that he’s already managed to slip off.
With a deep sigh, I shove my hands in my pockets and turn towards town. I have no idea what my parents will say when I get home, but I’m not looking forward to lying and making up excuses.
After half an hour, I reach the end of the long driveway. I’m freezing cold by now – why was I dumb enough not to bring a warm coat? Because I wanted Damien to ask me to stay, I realize unhappily.
The front door is open, and there are loud voices from the hallway. Frowning, I walk over to see my mother talking to Gina, our chef.
“Mrs. Hadley, I’m so sorry for the delay,” Gina says. She throws me an apologetic glance over my mother’s shoulder. “Dinner will be ready very soon.”
“Very good,” my mother replies. She sounds as if she doesn’t have the energy for a fight, and I feel a sudden pang of pity for her. There are dark circles under her eyes and her brown hair is tied up in a bun to hide the greasy roots.
Gina gives me a brief nod before disappearing into the kitchen and leaving me with my mother.
“Emma, where have you been?”
Before I can answer, the loud sound of a door slamming makes me jump. I gasp and cover my mouth with both hands as my father strides into the foyer.
“I’m starving,” my father grumbles. “When the fuck are we eating?”
Mom bites her lip as her cheeks turn pale. “Gina is plating our food now,” she says. “I’m sure if we head into the dining room, dinner will be ready soon.”
My father frowns at the sight of me, as if seeing me for the first time. “Fine,” he snaps. Without waiting for a response from my mother or me, he turns on his heel and stalks into the dining room.
“He’s in a mood,” Mom says quietly under her breath. “Come on, Emma. You don’t want your food to get cold.”
I reluctantly follow her into the dining room and take my seat across from Mom and next to my father. Gina brings in a tray laden with dishes and sets it down.
“Here you are, Mr. Hadley,” Gina says as she places a steaming platter in front of my father. She serves my mother, then me before turning her attention back to my father. “Is there anything else that I can get for you sir?”
“Get out,” my father snaps. “I have personal matters to discuss with my family.”
Gina ducks her head and scoots out of the dining room. As soon as the kitchen door closes, my father turns to my mother.
“Ramona, I don’t like it when my household doesn’t run smoothly,” my father growls in a low voice. “Do I need to fire the staff?”
“No,” Mom says quickly. “I’m sorry, Jason. Today was very chaotic.”
Heavenly aromas float through the air, but I’m not hungry. All I can do is push my shrimp scampi around on the plate. My stomach is twisting and churning – being around my father always makes me feel anxious. He’s such a bully! Plus, I hate the way he talks to my mother.
“Emma, I hope your grades are better this semester,” my father says. He snorts rudely. “Emma?”
My head snaps up and I blink. “Oh, yes, they are,” I say quickly. “They’re much better, in fact. I’m getting a ‘B’ in Medieval Literature.”
My father stares at me for a moment without speaking. Just as I think he’s about to open his mouth to praise me, he narrows his eyes and glares.
“I hardly see how that’s an improvement,” he replies. “Medieval Literature? Why the hell would you even sign up for a class like that in the first place? It sounds like a goddamn waste of time.”
I pause, hurt.
“It’s for my major,” I say in a small voice. “I needed an elective.”
“Do you know how much I’m paying for your schooling?” My father snorts in disgust and shakes his head. “And you’re throwing it away on useless bullshit? Why the hell aren’t you taking business classes? Or something with a little more substance?”
“I’ll do better,” I say miserably as I look down at my untouched plate of shrimp and pasta. “I’m sorry.”
“You’d damn well better,” my father replies. He spears a huge forkful of shrimp and wolfs it down without even chewing. The sight is enough to make me queasy. Shrimp scampi has always been one of my favorite meals but watching the way my father eats is nauseating. He’s practically inhaling it like an alien getting a hit of blood.
“Emma?” I look up to see my mother glancing at me with concern. “Are you all right?”
I look down at my plate and suppress a powerful wave of nausea. “I’m not hungry,” I say. “Is it okay if I go upstairs? Finals are coming up and I need to study.”
“Let her go,” my father barks before Mom can answer. “It wouldn’t kill her to miss a meal or two seeing how round she is.”
My cheeks redden in embarrassment but honestly, I’m just glad to leave the table. I stand and walk out of the dining room before darting up the stairs and locking myself in my room. As soon as I’m alone, I flop down on the bed. I feel dizzy and breathless. Even though I’ve only been home for an hour or so, it feels like an eternity.
I wonder what Damien is doing right now. Frowning, I roll onto my belly and bury my face in the pillows. If I concentrate hard, I can still taste him. The salty, musky flavor of his skin. The scent of wood smoke in his hair and beard. It makes me feel better to think of Damien in fact. At least someone wants me in this world.
And just thinking about the man is enough to make me wet. I lick my lips and roll onto my back, staring at the pristine white ceiling. I know that I should get up and start working soon but with Damien on my mind, work seems impossible. How the heck am I supposed to concentrate on studying when I can still feel his cum trickling out of my body?
With a heavy sigh, I sit up. The blood rushes to my head and I rub my forehead. I wish that I could just go to sleep and forget about everything other than Damien. Heck, I wish I could drop out of school and go live in the woods with the wild man who has captured my interest.
I get to my feet and reluctantly trudge across the room to my desk. My laptop is sitting there, next to all of my books, and I stare at it for a moment in hopes that the sight will inspire some kind of scholarly passion. But all I feel is a complete lack of motivation – if anything, I’m exhausted.
“Maybe I should take a nap,” I muse aloud, gnawing at the inside of my cheek. My bed does look nice and comfy and inviting – the only thing missing is Damien Evercore. But just as I’m slipping out of my clothes, there’s a knock at the door.
Grabbing a bathrobe, I wrap it around my curves and open the door. My mother is standing there and she’s holding a freshly-baked platter of chocolate cookies.
My favorite.
“That looks good,” I mutter.
Ramona smiles.
“I wish I could take credit but Gina whipped them up while your father and I were eating,” she replies. “Can I come in?”
“Of course.” I step back from the door and Mom walks in, gently closing the door behind her.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she says. She looks over to my desk and frowns. “Were you getting a lot of work done?”
“To be honest, not really,” I sigh. I reach for a cookie and take a big bite, savoring the way the chocolate melts over my tongue. Something about eating sweets has always made me feel better when I’m down, which is probably why I’ve been shopping in the plus-size section since the age of twelve. It wasn’t fun going into the store and having the saleslady look you up and down before directing you to the Women’s Section – when you’re not even a teenager yet.
But Ramona’s always indulged my sweet tooth. “It’s okay,” she says. “I won’t tell Daddy.” She takes a cookie and bites down before chewing thoughtfully. “How are you doing, sweetie?”
What should I say? Um, I’ve been sneaking out to have sex with a hermit who lives in the woods? He’s super hot and he makes my pussy cream so hard? So of course, I lie.
“I’m fine,” is my murmur. “I’m just worried about finals.” That, at least, isn’t a lie. Unless some miracle happens, there’s no way I’ll be making the Dean’s List this semester.
Ramona gives me a sympathetic smile. It’s funny – we haven’t always had the best relationship, but I still love her more than anything else in the world. Deep down, I know my mother is a kind person. But the way she lets my father steamroll her is always hard to watch.
“You’ll be fine with school, sweetheart. And don’t listen to Daddy about taking business courses. You need to follow your heart, so if Medieval Literature is what makes you happy, then take it and have fun,” she soothes. “Plus, don’t listen to your dad about your weight,” she adds. “I had Gina box up your plate and leave it in the fridge, so you can have a snack later if you want.”
“Thanks.” I take another cookie and eat the whole thing in one bite. “I know you’re probably judging me right now,” I add softly.
“Honey, why would I judge you?” Mom asks quietly. “You know how much I love you. You’re my only daughter.”
I look down at the way my belly bulges under the bathrobe and flush. “I know you think I eat too much.”
“I don’t,” Mom says firmly. “Your father has outdated ideas about how he feels women should look. But you’re beautiful at any size, Emma, and I want you to know that.”
I stare at her. Now that we’re alone, I can tell that she’s being honest. Or at least, I can believe that she believes she’s being honest. But deep down, I can feel her disapproval of my size. After all, who wants a daughter who looks like a whale? It sucks, for me most of all. I don’t like having to wear clothes that resemble tents, and I hate summer because of how my thighs feel when they rub together.
I’ve never felt beautiful. Or rather, I had never felt beautiful until Damien took me in his arms and kissed me.
Ramona breaks the silence.
“You’ve been disappearing a lot,” Mom says. She clears her throat and settles down on my bed, leaving the plate of cookies on my lap. “Where have you been going, anyway?”
I frown. “Nowhere,” I lie. “I mean, I’ve just been going for long walks in the woods. It’s a good way to clear your head.”
Mom chuckles. She reaches for a cookie and breaks off a crumb with her fingers. “That doesn’t sound like you, honey,” she says. “I know how much you hate the outdoors.”
I point toward my muddy pink sneakers. “I don’t! I bought those a few weeks ago,” is my defensive explanation. “A guy at school asked me to go hiking.”
Mom nods. She actually looks impressed and for a moment I think I’ve gotten away with my lie. But then she narrows her eyes. “That sounds like it could be dangerous, Emma. I mean, you shouldn’t be doing this kind of stuff alone. You could slip and fall and break something!”
I shrug. “I’m pretty careful,” I reply. “Besides, there are people who live in the woods. I’m sure that someone would help me if something happened.”
I regret the words as soon as they’re out of my mouth. My mom looks horrified, like I’ve just informed her that I’ll be joining the circus and shaving my head.
“Emma!” Mom drops the fragment of cookie. “That’s even worse! You don’t know what kind of crazy people live out there!”
“You’re right,” I say in a quick effort to pacify her. “I didn’t mean that I’d met any of them or anything like that. I just…um, well, I know they’re there.”
Mom shakes her head. “Honestly, Emma, why don’t you just let me call my trainer? I’m sure we could find someone great for you to work with.”
“No, no, it’s really okay,” I say. “It has nothing to do with my weight. I’m just getting some fresh air.”
“Well, if you’re sure,” Mom says. She’s still frowning, but I know that she’s not angry. “I’m just worried about you, honey. That’s all.” She gives me a sad smile and I feel the burn of guilt almost like a brand on my skin.
I know that even though we’re wealthy, my mom is unhappy. Sure, Ramona has everything she could ever want but she’s also married to my father, and now that I’ve grown up I know that she’s lonely. She has charity friends, but no real close girlfriend in the world. Because even diamonds and pearls aren’t enough for a satisfying life. My mom has been beaten down by my dad in so many subtle ways over the years that she’s merely a shadow of the woman she once was.
Pity washes me over then.
“I’ll be fine,” I say encouragingly. I reach for her hand and lace my fingers with hers before squeezing. “Don’t worry about me, Mom. I promise that everything is going to be okay. You take care of yourself, okay?”
Mom gets to her feet and nods. “I know, honey. But you can’t blame me for worrying about you,” she says. “That’s just what mothers do.”
I nod. When she leaves my room, I sigh in relief and flop back down on the bed. My heart is thudding in a blind panic. I know that my mom would go crazy if she knew what I was really doing – meeting a wild man in the woods and having crazy sex with him.
In fact, to most people, Damien would cut an intimidating and frightening figure. But whenever I’m with him, I know that I’m cared for. I know that he would never do anything to hurt me, and I feel absolutely safe with him.
* * *
The next morning, I get up early and get dressed. I still haven’t done any studying, but I figure that I’ll be far less distracted at school than at home. I know the library will be packed, and as much as I’m dreading studying, I’m glad for the crowd. If I’m not alone, I won’t be able to think about Damien.
At least, that’s what I hope. Last night was another torrid night filled with dreams of him, and my heart is still thudding as I walk downstairs to grab some breakfast before leaving for school.
“Good morning,” Gina says sweetly. “What would you like, Miss Emma?”
“Nothing complicated,” I assure her as I settle down in a chair.
“I have some leftover batter from your father’s waffles,” Gina says. She shows me the bowl and I smile happily – even from here, I can smell the delicious buttermilk and cinnamon.
“That sounds good,” I say. My stomach rumbles and I flush and bite my lip. Gina pours the batter into our waffle maker and gets to work washing the dishes. As she works, she hums to herself and the sound is strangely soothing.
“Here you are,” Gina pronounces. She slides a plated waffle with whipped cream and strawberries toward me. “Would you like anything else?”
“Orange juice, please.”
Our chef passes me a glass of freshly-squeezed juice and watches as I drink it. I know that it’s practically all sugar, but I can’t give it up – there’s just something so refreshing about a glass of orange juice in the morning.
When I’m finished eating, I wash my hands and grab my bag. I go into the pantry looking for Gina to thank her, but she’s nowhere to be found. I frown as I walk back to the kitchen with my hands on my hips.
That’s when I hear the sound of my father’s angry voice coming through the wall. My heart leaps into my throat and I cover my mouth with one hand so I don’t accidentally make a sound. Sneaking down the hallway, I press my ear to the door of my father’s office and listen.
“God damnit, I told you!” My father’s voice yells into the phone. “I’m not taking no for an answer!”
The hair on the back of my neck stands up as I listen to his deep growl. There’s silence for a moment – presumably the person on the other end of the phone is trying to craft some ludicrous excuse. I know that I should be getting along. My father hates it when I stand outside of his office. Once, when I was a child, he slapped me across the face for eavesdropping. But it’s like my feet are glued to the floor. I can’t move, even if I want to.
“That’s more like it,” comes my father’s reply. I hear the creak and strain of his leather executive chair as he kicks his feet up. “I thought so.” His booming laugh fills the air. It’s an evil sound that chills my blood and I shiver.
I don’t know how I know that my father’s a bad man, but he is. Call it intuition, or maybe it’s years of living under his roof. I’ve witnessed countless cruelties, small and uncaring, and summed together they make Jason a twisted monster. Finally, I force myself to scurry away. Grabbing my backpack from the foyer, I head outside and into the bright sunshine.
When I get to campus, the atmosphere is quiet. Classes are finished for the semester and I make my way to the library. Of course, I can’t help but think of Damien. The last time I was here, I was doing research on him. Part of me is tempted to ignore my studies and go right back to stalking him on-line, but I know that I can’t do that. My grades are precarious enough as is.
No need to make things even more tense at home.
“Hey, Em!”
Turning around, I see Lacey standing in the library foyer with a huge pile of books in her arms. Her blonde hair is tied up in a greasy knot on the top of her head and she looks exhausted.
“Hey,” I say. I raise an eyebrow. “You look like you didn’t get much sleep.”
My friend groans. She sets her pile of books down on a table and yawns, rubbing her jaw with the fingers of one hand. “I didn’t,” she says sourly. “I’ve been up all night cramming for History.”
I sigh. “I still need to get started. I fell asleep with my books untouched.”
Now it’s Lacey’s turn to look suspicious. I’ve never been a good student, per se, but I’ve usually always been good about cramming at the last minute. And we’ve reached the point of do or die, so my buddy shoots me a strange look.
“I think we could both use a little fuel,” she replies. “What do you say we head to the Union? They have those great breakfast sandwiches. Come on, my treat.”
Even though I’ve already eaten, my stomach rumbles at the thought of a breakfast sandwich. It seems like the kind of thing Damien would prefer to fussy waffles: a big toasted English muffin crammed with sausage and cheese and eggs dripping with butter.
“I knew that would get you,” Lacey says slyly. She links her arm with mine. “Besides, now maybe you’ll finally talk to me.”
I turn to her and frown. “Talk to you about what?”
Lacey grins. “Exactly,” she says. “That thing – whatever it is – that you’re hiding from me.”
A hot flush spreads across my cheeks as we walk out of the library. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say innocently. “I’m not hiding anything at all. Why would you think that?”
But Lacey doesn’t answer. She just grabs my arm and pulls me across the courtyard. My heart thumps nervously. Hopefully she doesn’t ask too much … because what will I say?