Page 99 of Broken Pieces
A laugh escapes me. He’s such a shameless flirt and so unserious half of the time. If people knew the real Damian, they’d be shocked. He’s funny, kind, and protective. I’ve never felt so cared for and safe around someone.
Sophia arrives a few minutes later and styles my hair as I do my makeup. She’s quieter than normal, which isso strange. She’s my best friend and I love her, but boy can that girl talk.
“Are you okay?” I frown.
“Ye–No. Not really. Fucking work,” she sighs, “our editor dropped the stolen painting piece. He said there wasn’t any point in pursuing it since it’s been so long and it already fizzled out.”
“Did you make a lot of progress already?”
She slumps her shoulders. “Not really. That painting did disappear off the face of the earth, and when I tried to contact the lead Europol investigator, he shot me down so quickly.”
“Well, this is a big deal. He definitely can’t be sharing that information. You know that.”
She waves her hand around. “Blah, semantics.”
I turn around and grab her hand. “Plus, wasn’t this job temporary? Didn’t you say you wanted to start writing your own book series?”
She averts my gaze. “I’ve been so busy. I haven't had time. Anyway, let’s continue because you can’t be late.”
I hum, unconvinced. She has wanted to be a published author for years now. She’s been through a lot, which is why I try not to pressure her. I get it. But I’m going to have to pull a mom act soon, because I hate seeing her with a dead end job. She’s meant for so much more. She deserves more than life has given her. Most of the time, we need to create our own happy ending. Fight for it, too. And I getthe feeling she’s giving up and lying to me, and I simply can’t allow that.
She finishes the last touches on my hair as I put on my usual red lipstick, that funny enough, is a perfect match for the dress. I glance at the clock, realizing that Damian is picking me up in about ten minutes, so I quickly get dressed and Sophia helps me with the zipper as I’m putting on my earrings and necklace.
“You look beautiful.” She beams.
“You don’t look so bad yourself.” I wink. “You and Isabella will be arriving together, right? Don’t be late. I’m not sure why you guys didn’t want to come with us. Damian got a limo, you know, because he’s extra.” I laugh.
“Nah, I’m fine. I’m going to pick up Isabella right now. I’ll see you there,” she says, giving me a quick hug before leaving.
Spraying some perfume on my wrist and the corners of my neck, I take one last glance in the mirror. Ever since I officially cut my mother out of my life, I’ve been rocking my curls nonstop. It’s one of the many things I’m grateful to Damian for. He slowly, but surely, has helped me feel more secure. His patience and kindness has little by little rebuilt my broken pieces that I never knew how to pick up by myself.
A knock on my door interrupts my thoughts, and as I walk to open the front door, anxiety suddenly floods through me. This gala is a really big deal. I’m talking there’sa red carpet, celebrities are attending, the whole nine yards. I can only hope I did the pieces some justice, because I really am proud of them. I’m just crossing my fingers that whatever mystery painting Damian has been keeping away from me is just as good.
Opening the door, my heart speeds up at the sight of Damian. He looks devastatingly handsome with a black tux that was tailored to hug his perfect broad shoulders and muscled thighs. His addicting masculine scent envelops me as he takes a step closer and kisses me.
He takes a step back, his eyes filling with heat. “You look… wow. There are no words. Perfetto.”Perfect.
My cheeks heat up because only he can make me blush over something so simple as a compliment.
“You ready?”
I nod as I pick up my clutch and walk out the door, grabbing his hand as we walk to the elevator.
It’s a busy Saturday night in the streets of the windy city, so we hit some traffic that hasn’t been moving for at least ten minutes.
“We’re going to be late,” I stress.
“No, we won’t. And if we are, it’s not like they can start the party without us.” He shrugs.
“How are you so relaxed? Oh, right, because you know what the statement piece is and I don't.” I roll my eyes.
He grabs my jawline softly as he kisses me. “I can think of a few ways to relax you,” he says with a sultry voice.
“Not here, are you crazy?” I whisper.
His eyes gleam with mischief. “The partition is up. He won’t hear anything. I told him to take the longer route, because there’s no way I can last all night looking at you in this fucking dress.”
His hand lands on my leg where the high slit is, and starts traveling upward as he raises his eyebrow, silently seeking permission. My core is throbbing already, because with his touch, I'm always on fire. Ineedhis touch like I need air to breathe.
