Page 31 of Christmas Mafia Prince
“Been there,” Damen says and rests his cheek against mine as if we’re a real couple. “I’m happy to see you improved. You shouldn’t drink so much tonight.”
Just like that, he’s deciding this for me, and while in the past I’d balk at any attempts to control me, he seems to do it for the right reasons. Just like with the spanking, I kinda like it.
“Fair. Did I really yell at your dad?”
Damen laughs and kisses my lips. “He hated it, and Mom hated it even more, because the only things she likes about him are the respect and money he comes with. So yeah… that was part of the discussion this morning. Well done.”
“Oh no… They all hate me?” It kinda didn’t matter when I was supposed to be Damen’s outrageous fake husband, to be discarded after the holidays, but now that I have some hopes about us lasting longer, I don’t know any more if going all out last night was really the best choice.
He blinks and strokes my head. “I wouldn’t go that far. Plus, hate never stopped anyone being a part of this family. My parents hate one another, my brother hates me, my sister hates us all, but here we are, spending another wonderful holiday together.”
It’s weird. Kinda awful. But also a relief, I guess?
“So what’s the plan today? I saw a helicopter.”
“That would be my sister and her family. They’re having lunch now, but we can join them at two for the annual maze run.”
“So I have you to myself for another hour,” I say gleefully and hug him, not even trying to keep up my goth outcast facade. “And don’t worry. If you’re lost in the maze, I’ll find you.” Like it’s not a mazehe’sgrown up with. But he doesn’t call me out and instead licks my lips.
“I’ll make sure you’re rewarded.”
“Damen?”
“Yes?”
I hesitate with my question, worried it might spoil the mood. “May I get my phone back?”
Damen never stops stroking my hair. “No. How about after Christmas?”
After the fuck we just had, I don’t have the energy to argue. Digital detox it is then.
Chapter 11
Killian
I’mwalkingoncloudswhen Damen leads me out of the room, fingers entwined with mine. Fuck of the century. Dick of the century.Manof the century. My eyes couldn’t contain more stars if the sky fell on us.
Maybe I’m delusional, but Iwant tobelieve all the sweet things he tells me and put my faith in him. If he says them in private, then they must be true tosomeextent. And maybe, justmaybe, he will not cast me off once Christmas is over, along with the prank he’s pulled on his family.
I still have some of his seed inside me when we make our way down the grand staircase, where he tells me stories about the people depicted in huge portraits hung on the walls. Many of them are his ancestors, but some faces, which I recognize from history books, belong to people whom members of Damen’s family called friends.
I don’t know what chance I have of impressing any of Damen’s family, especially after last night’s fiasco, but it won’t stop me from trying. While anger got the best of me yesterday, I’ll have a clean slate with many of Damen’s family members who arrive today. If I’m to show myself as a valuable addition to Damen’s life, someone who isn’t only a fun accessory for his family to hate over the holidays, I need to up my game.
I’ve dressed in my new clothes, this time even choosing a green sweater which is as festive as I can get. It features a zombie Santa, which I hope is not offensive to this Christmas-loving crime family. I toned down the black around my eyes, pulled my hair back into a sleek ponytail, and I’m ready to take on any games and festivities. I hope it’s not charades. I suck at charades.
But instead of the family with little kids I expected to see, there’s a group of young men, some of whom are still teenagers, all lounging on plush green sofas in front of a fireplace guarded by two medieval suits of armor. Their eyes dart toward us the moment I slip, placing my heel on the very edge of the step.
My prince saves me from tumbling down, but with the men all quieting down, as if we’re interrupting a secret meeting. I feel like a cat watched by a pack of wild dogs.
It’s a good thing that the biggest, meanest of them all is on my side.
“Gentlemen, long time no see,” Damen says, but their response is restrained. It doesn’t take me long to realize that they allknow.
Know that Damen’s come out. That he’s supposedly married, and thatIam the guy he is fucking.
Is that why the guy wearing mourning garb stares at me so intensely? I’m supposed to be the lone alternative guy in this palace of generational wealth, and he’s out-gothing me. While his clothes are elegant, they’re black head to toe, just varying in texture. No rips or intentional slashes in his pants. He’s paler than Damen, his black hair is pushed back, and a small silver chain with an opulent cross lies over his silk tie. While alternative, his clothes look so expensive he fits in even next to the teen in a Gucci tracksuit.
The other men are just as focused on me, but his razor-sharp gaze slits through the hickeys on my throat in a way that gives me a shiver.
