Page 48 of Dirty Little Secrets
THE BRIDGE
DAMON
Do not mistakemy attraction for affection. Her warning replays in my head, my heart beating louder, stronger, and more furious as I stare at her, unable to differentiate between the two emotions. No strings attached. That’s essentially what she wants. I can’t give her that. I knew from the moment I saw her that the strings would inevitably weave into a tangled mess.
She lit a fire inside me, a fire that burns every wick in my soul. I want to touch her soft skin, explore the topography of her spellbinding body. I want to hold her. I want to comfort her. I want her head to make my chest her home, and I want her to lay with me as we fight the darkness of night…together.
I can only hope her affection for me grows in time.That one day, when she looks at me, she'll see a man who’d protect her, care for her, do anything in his power to keep her safe. But hope has never been an ally. I’ve been betrayed by hope and prayers for years now. I can’t count on the stars and the sun to one day align and bring me endless light. If I want her to see me for who I am, I’ll have to show her. Without games, without tricks, without my intentions cloaked in the failures of my past.
I admit my strategy has worked against me. Though she doesn’t deny our physical connection, it’s the emotional bridge we need to build.Ineed to build. I hope this one doesn’t get burned.
“Do you have questions?” Yannis asks Emery, concluding his presentation on the operations of Cavanaugh Industries. Emery shakes her head, making notes on her printout. “Good. As I mentioned earlier, we’re currently knee-deep in preparing for this audit. While most of our documents have been digitized, some paper files are still floating around. Due to the sensitive nature of some of our dealings, Miranda here has marked these files,” he hands her a folder, “as confidential. All you’ll need to do is consolidate our output and input. Should be fairly simple.”
“I’ve also taken the liberty of uploading those files onto your hard drive,” Miranda adds. “And if you find that there’s anything missing, feel free to give me a call and I’ll try my best to locate them.”
“I appreciate that,” Emery says, straightening her shoulders as she addresses the executive team. “I’ll needuntil the end of the week to familiarize myself with all protocols and procedures, but I’ll ensure my team gets started on document prep right away.”
“There is no room for error,” Javier grunts. “We must?—”
Emery tilts her head. “I am fully aware of the importance of this audit, Mr. Cortes.” She gives him a tight-lipped smile. “As long as we work together as a team, I’m sure we’ll pass with flying colors.”
“I have full faith in Miss Jones and her department,” I state, clearing my throat. Emery glances over at me, her expression professional and flat. I try not to read into it. We’re among colleagues. I reel back a frown. “If we’re done for today, then I’d like to show Miss Jones her office.”
“Oh, I can do that,” Miranda chirps. Emery purses her lips as her gaze flits across Miranda’s familiar features. She’s been trying to place her all morning. “I believe you’ve got a conference call in?—”
“Push it,” I say casually, noticing Javier’s glare. I inwardly roll my eyes. And people sayI’muptight. “Anything else?”
“Yes.” Javier fumbles inside his suit jacket and pulls out an ornate envelope. “A courier dropped this off earlier this morning.” He places it on the table and slides it toward me. “It’s an invitation to the Black and White Ball.”
My teeth clench as I open the flap and pull out a personalized invitation to New York City’s most sought-after social event of the season.
“No way!” Miranda squeals, beaming. “For all of us?”
“No…” Javier scrunches his nose, his scrutinizing gaze sweeping from me to Emery. “It’s addressed to Mr. Cavanaugh and Miss Jones.”
Miranda pouts, disappointed. “Oh…”
“Oh, indeed,” Javier hums, scratching his stubble. “I assume you’ll attend?”
“N—”
“What is the Black and White Ball?” Emery asks, brows pinched together in confusion.
“It’s the Marquis Foundation’s annual fundraiser for the Children’s Hospital,” Miranda replies. “It’s held at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.” She sighs, expression dreamy. “I hear the gift baskets are epic.”
“Marquis?” Emery asks slowly, briefly meeting my stone-cold features. Bastard. He hasn’t invited me personally since the day I took back what was rightfully mine. “As in Quinton Marquis?”
“Mhmm,” Miranda hums. “The Marquis Foundation.” She frowns. “Have you met Quinton before?”
Emery blinks. “We’re…acquainted.”
“Miranda, please draft an RSVP for Mr. Cavanaugh and Miss Jones,” Javier says, speaking directly to me as he hisses. “Our CEO wouldn’t dare miss such a high-profile event, would he?”
He’s right. Ihatethat he’s right. Media will be swarming the steps of The Met. It’s the perfect opportunity to show the world that I’m back, and that this company is alive and well and flourishing. I’ve neverbeen one to do something half-assed. If Quinton wants me there, I’ll be there. With all the fucking bells and whistles.
“Send the RSVP today,” I tell Miranda. “You’re all dismissed.” As Miranda and Yannis scatter out of the boardroom, Javier rounds the table, putting a hand on my shoulder. I grumble out, "What?"
“We cannot make an enemy out of the Marquis’ again,” Javier whispers, tone strained. “Your father cleaned up yourmessesfor years, but he’s not here to save your assagain.” He briefly glances at Emery who’s rereading our policy manual. “Don’t let your cock be the reason this company fails, Damon. Remember what happened the last time you picked desire over duty.”
