Page 79 of A Touch of Dark
He pauses in his solitary march, facing the view from the windows. Even though I know he can’t see the dreary clouds through a jungle of concrete, his posture stiffens.
“I apologize again for the other day,” he says, leaving me scrambling to wonder which night he referred to. “That was not my intention. For you to learn the truth in that way.”
“I can believe that,” I say. A man like him would have envisioned something far more devastating than a woman’s minor mental breakdown in front of a throng of reporters.
In fact…
I know deep down it could have been so much worse. “I’m surprised my father hasn’t come by or called…”
The subtle tensing of his jaw makes me suspect that he may have something to do with that fact.
“I don’t want to see him,” I admit before he can voice an excuse. “Not now. I-I can’t…”
His lips part, but the door opens at the same time and Julio strolls in as boldly as if he lives here. He places a steaming cup of commercial coffee and a white takeout box on my counter. He nods to me and greets Damien out loud. “Sir.”
Then he leaves, and Damien decides that taking charge of my welfare would punish me more than any comeback could.
“Eat,” he commands, stressing the word.
I’d refuse if I weren’t so hungry. My stomach growls as I cross over to the food and lift the lid of the container. The meal certainly isn’t fare comparable to pizza. The buttered croissant and blueberry jam taste both heavenly and suspicious. Could they be a peace offering?
Looking at the man, I can’t tell. He almost seamlessly blends into the background of the stormy city landscape. Sharp, harsh edges and sleek lines with streaks of odd light where there shouldn’t be any. Like the fact that I can tell—whether on my couch or not—he hasn’t slept much. The lines around his mouth are more pronounced than usual. He looks weathered and weary.
Because of me?
“I can pay you for the doctor’s visit,” I suggest. “And the gas you spent to—”
“I don’t want money from you.”
“Oh, that’s right,” I say softly. “You want my virginity.”
I was wrong before in thinking that mentioning Mateo had triggered the worst of his anger. Sorely mistaken. This cold, silent creature, with his head dangerously cocked to the side, is Damien at his most volatile. My, how the man hates being mocked.
And in this moment, I’m poised to deliver the most crushing comeback I can and save face once and for all. Because I remember in cruel, crystal-clear detail everything I said to him. The price I deliriously dreamt up for myself.Stay with me. Be with me. Pretend for me.
Most pathetic of all:Keep me.
“Well?” I croak after choking down the last bite of my breakfast. “Have you considered my terms?”
I don’t know which one of us is more shocked. My knees knock together. I feel liable to melt into a puddle on the floor.
And Damien looks like the definition of a man caught stepping on a landmine. “You remember?” His tone betrays more than mere caution. It’s deadly.
“I require a yes or no answer, Mr. Villa.” My God, how do I sound so calm? So in control when I feel anything but? “Did you find my terms agreeable?”
Of course he didn’t. And his silence proves it. Without warning, he heads for the door.
“I have business to attend to,” he tells me while straightening the sleeves of his perfectly crisp jacket. “It may take the rest of the day.”
I still expect a direct refusal. Or for him to laugh and utter some parting cheap shot. Not to leave, shutting the door behind him. I can hear his footsteps retreat down the hall as my words hang on the air, sounding less calm the more I think on it and more…desperate.
Have you considered my terms?
No wonder he sounded so surprised that I’d mention them. He hoped I’d forgotten. Apparently, he wasn’t willing to pay any price after all.
Bastard. My fingers tighten around the cup of coffee and I wind up throwing it across the room. It strikes my wall with a thud, splattering brown liquid over the industrial gray surface. Who needs Damien when I can create my own fucking art?
“Miss?”
