Chapter 41
Damon
"I can't promise you anything."
The words have been resounding in my head all day. Elene's friend, the dark-haired devil who greeted me at the club one night, was rushing toward the entrance while I was waiting outside The Velvet Rooms.
She was better than nothing, I thought. She was a link to Elene, something, a way to connect with her. So I jumped out of my car, approaching the girl just before she could disappear inside the club.
When she told me that Elene was no longer working there, I didn't know whether to be worried or relieved. Knowing that she wasn't willing to give herself to other men for money anymore fueled me with comfort. It meant that those images I had burning inside my head were just that, images, and not true.
However, it doesn't mean that she hasn't been with anyone else since our last night. It also doesn't mean that she wants to see me. It could just mean that she was waiting for me to leave, so she could get out of our agreement and finally quit a job she wanted to quit a long time ago. Maybe she only stayed there because those were the terms of our contract.
This fucking uncertainty is driving me insane. I want it to be over. I want her to finally be here and tell me what’s what, even if the truth will hurt me.
I asked her friend to let her know that I will be waiting at this restaurant tonight at eight. I told her to let Elene know I want to talk to her, over dinner. It's an Italian place, neither too high-scale to intimidate her, nor cheap enough to make her feel like I don't care. I don't want her to feel the need to doll up for me or the location I asked her to come to. I just want her, alone, for an opportunity to resolve whatever this is between us.
Or whatever this was.
Her friend regarded me with a skeptical frown when I gave her my card, telling her that Elene should call or text me if anything keeps her from showing up. There was reluctance in her nod when I asked if I could trust her to deliver this information to Elene, but she promised she'd do it. All my hopes now lie in this friend's hands, and I fucking hate that. I hate relying on other people, especially strangers.
My eyes have been glued to my phone all day long, but I haven't heard from Elene. She didn’t text or call me, which could mean one of two things. Either she really is done with me and threw the card away as soon as her friend gave it to her, or she plans to show up here and didn't think it necessary to confirm.
Her friend didn't give me anything that would sway my speculations one way or the other. She said she'd give Elene the card and let her know when and where I would be waiting for her, but she concluded her words with a disheartening phrase.
"I can't promise you anything."
Of course she can't. But damn, how much easier would all of this be if I knew at least something? Anything, other than the fact that Elene stopped working at The Velvet Rooms right after I was banned.
She waited for me every single night. Tonight, I'm the one waiting for her. My heart skips a beat every time the door to the restaurant opens. I'm sitting at a small table for two at the far end of the main room, in a semi-private alcove that still allows for a good view of the entrance. The waiter has come to my table twice to ask if I really didn't want anything besides water, and both times I sent him away. My stomach is churning with nervousness. Water is all I can handle at the moment, and even a good scotch would only heighten the painful anticipation. I thought coming here early would be a good idea and the best way to keep my nerves in check.
Boy, was I wrong.
The longer I've been sitting here, the more I'm beginning to doubt. With every minute that passes, a negative outcome seems more and more likely, even though there's no concrete reason to believe that.
All my contemplating, my dwelling, my doubts, my fear of a negative outcome — all of that disappears when the door opens again and her beautiful face appears, scanning the room in search of me.
She's wearing tight-fitting jeans, white sneakers, and a lightweight navy blue coat with a white scarf. I've never seen her in a casual everyday outfit, only all dressed up or completely naked.
This look is new — and it's fucking delicious.
I jump up from my seat, watching from afar as a waiter takes her coat and scarf, but her beautiful blue eyes are glued on me the entire time. Her platinum hair is straightened today, and it’s streaming down her slim shoulders in stark contrast to her dark top. The bright strands bounce as she rapidly approaches my table. She wears minimal make-up, a hint of powder, a sweep of black mascara on her lashes, and her bright pink lips are kissed with a touch of gloss.
I freeze in place as she comes closer, incapable of knowing what to do, what to say, how to greet the girl whose absence has been tormenting me every waking minute.
She shows no such inhibitions. As soon as she closes in on me, she wraps her arms around my neck, rising up on her tiptoes and pressing her lips full-on to mine.
My entire body melts into instant relief as I scoop her into my arms, taking her with such force that she's lifted from the floor, pressing her delicate body against mine. I breathe her in, all of her. Our kiss is clumsy and eager, speaking of our impatient need. She's the one to start it, and the one to break it, her blue eyes moving up to meet mine.
"Please tell me I'm not misunderstanding this invitation," she whispers, her lower lip shaking. "Please tell me that you didn't ask me here to buy me, to sign another contract."
Sadness and fear consume her expression, and it pierces my heart like a hot dagger.
A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth, lightening the shadow on her face for a split second.
"All I'm buying tonight is dinner for us," I tell her, slowly letting her go. "If you can spare the time."
A shy smile, still riddled with uncertainty, appears on her pretty face when she nods.