Page 12 of Dirty Little Secrets
“I don’t want tofuckyou, Miss Jones,” he says, scooping up a strand of my hair. He twirls it, as if, with enough twists, he’ll somehow unravel a mystical secret. His forehead creases with mild frustration before he flicks his dark eyes up at me. “At least not yet.”
Look at the poor guy.
“Not ever.” I swat his hand away. “Listen, I don’t know how you found me, but this will be the last time we speak outside of the club, understood?”
I’d be lying if I said our brief encounter at Lux didn’t leave me intrigued about who he is, where he’s been, and why no one has seen him in two years. Out of all the pathetic men who try to woo me with their prestige and wealth, Damon’s the only one I felt genuine sympathy for. Despite his self-assured exterior, I can see a lonely man. Maybe all he wants to do is talk. To confess. But I’m not a therapist or a fucking priest. And I don’t intend to become a vault for theprivileged. I have enough demons of my own to keep quiet.
“Oh, Miss Jones.” He clicks his tongue, looking at me like I’m a naïve little girl. “It’s endearing that you think you make the rules.” He lifts his hand to my cheek, his tone raspy and raw as he says, “Iwillget to know you. It’s only a matter of time.” Heat shoots to my core as he sweeps his thumb across my bottom lip.Man’s got moves. Holy hell. He smirks. “I can see it in your eyes,Emery. You’re just as curious as I am.”
“Curiosity killed the cat, Damon,” I whisper, breath ragged from his controlling touch. “Plus…”Lick his fucking thumb. Do it. No! I shake my head. “You don’t even know me.”
“That’s the problem,” he says, gaze flicking over my shoulder. Damon’s jaw tightens. “Your boyfriend is looking for you.” He drops his hand. “One hour, Miss Jones. That’s all I ask. One hour with you.” Conflict muddles his eyes. “That should be enough time.”
“Enough time for what?” I ask, confused. “What do you want from me?”
Pain flashes across his face. “The truth.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “The truth? About what?”
“You,” he says, nodding. I’d kill to hear his thoughts. “I don’t like riddles.”
“I’m not a riddle,” I protest, offended and vulnerable. “I don’t?—”
“But you are,” he whispers softly. “And I intend to solve you.”
“What?”
My heart rattles when I hear Tom call out, “Em!There you are!” Damon glares at Tom, and I shoot him a pleading stare. Shit! Don’t say anything, please! Tom blinks a couple of times before his eyes widen to a fanboy degree. “No way!” He holds out his hand. “Babe, do you know who this is?! This is Damon Cavanaugh! You know, from Cavanaugh Industries!” Damon reluctantly shakes Tom’s hand. “We use your iCEF program at work all the time.” He lowers his voice. “Oh, and I am so sorry about what happened to your family. That must’ve been so?—”
“Thank you,” Damon cuts him off, body stiffening. “I should get going.”
“Of course,” Tom says, giddy to be in the presence of a tech God. He frowns. “What brings you to this neck of the woods anyhow?”
“I enjoy the quiet,” Damon says, maintaining a diplomatic demeanor. I think we’re safe for now.Safe. Yay. How fun.“It was a pleasure meeting you…?”
“Tom. Tom Warner.” He glances at me. “This is Emery. My girlfriend.” Damon tries his best to remain neutral, but his lip twitches, and I can’t help but smile. “Did you guys just meet or?”
“Yes,” I say quickly. “It appears he’s an avid reader of nonfiction.”
“Really?” Tom recoils playfully. “I can’t stand it. Give me a high fantasy any day.” He elbows me. “Right, babe?”
“Mhmm,” I hum. “Fantasy all the way.”
“I’ve never liked fantasies,” Damon says, talking only to me. Looking only at me. Almost through me.Like I’m plastic. Like I’m transparent. “I prefer real.” He pauses. “Authentic.”
“Real’s often boring,” I note as Damon’s phone rings. He ignores it. “Fantasy’s far more exciting.”
Damon smirks. “Maybe you’re reading the wrong type of books,Emery.” His phone rings again, and he grunts at the caller ID. “Well, it was a pleasure meeting you. Until next time.”
“Have a good day, Mr. Cavanaugh!” Tom calls out after Damon as he leaves, and I’m embarrassed for the both of us. “That was so weird! I just read that it’s been a couple of years since anyone’s seen him in public. I wonder where he’s been all this time.”
I look over my shoulder and watch him climb into a black SUV. “Me too.”
“What’d you say?” Tom asks.
“I said no clue.” I lace my fingers through Tom’s. “Show me that new spy thriller you were talking about.”
“You’ll love it! It’s about?—”
