Page 3 of Fragile Twisted Vows
Something that Damien is great at giving.
I leave the bottles and Priscilla and stand slowly, some of the hair from my ponytail falling in front of my eyes. I swipe it away with a nervous, breathless smile.
“Damien! Hi! I didn’t know I would run into you here,” I say as he looks me up and down, the woman in the red dress now standing behind him with a grimace that looks very similar to Priscilla’s.
“I’m working on a merger with Fleur de Femme,” he says and I try to keep my jaw from dropping.
A merger with a designer perfume company? God, the campaigns I could create-
“What are you doing here?” he asks, his eyes going from my face to the stain on my dress.
Lie.
“I’m um, well, I’m…” I look down at my scuffed heels and scattered bottles.
He would never believe that I’m buying an expensive bottle of perfume. Even if he didn’t know that my parents cut me off, I definitely don’t look like I could afford one of these. I look like an imposter. A try hard.
“Well, I’m applying for a job, but I need to get going to my other one. Business calls!” I say with a nervous smile.
“Hope you’re well,” I say as I start to back away.
He looks as beautiful as he always did. Tall, so unbelievably tall. His shoulders so broad that I swear they might rip through his tailored, designer suit. His skin is just as dark and golden as I remember, like he spent years lying in the sun. His black hair is still a little long and smoothed away from his unshaven face, something my older sister always hated, but I admired it. I liked that he was a little edgy, unkempt.
I liked the big, crooked nose that I was too afraid to ask about because it was definitely broken once. I liked the small scar that runs from his right, thick brow down to the top of his angular cheek. Something I was also too afraid to ask about.
Because Damien is ex-military, a former Marine, I’ve known not to mess with him since my sister brought him into the family. I was young when he came around. He’s ten years older than my sister which makes him sixteen years older than me. When he knew me, I was barely a woman.
And when he saved me that night years ago, I was still barely a woman. A woman he never got to see again. Because after that night, Megan filed for divorce.
“And you, are you well?” Damien asks in a low voice, the baritone drawl rumbling through my veins.
His hazel eyes almost look golden in this lighting. Like the richest, most luxurious treasure.
“Y-yes. I mean…no. My best friend just got engaged and I’ve been living on her couch so I guess that means no home for me.” I chuckle nervously as I swing my arm in a mock victorious pump.
He just stares at me, his eyes slightly narrowing.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I told you that. I shouldn’t even…shouldn’t even be talking to you. Megan would be upset,” I say, referring to my older sister that he once married.
His head tilts at that, a strand of his dark hair falling over the thick brow that bares his scar.
“And does your sister talk to you often? Does she know about your…situation?” he asks and my cheeks flush slightly with embarrassment.
“Not a lot and no, she doesn’t. Not like she would help anyway. Our parents would kill her for giving me any sort of handout. They cut both me and contact with me off a few years ago, so I’m not sure they would be pleased if she were to take me in.” I grimace and then shake my head, my ponytail skimming my back as I do.
“Again, sorry. Not sure why I’m telling you this.” I sigh as I rub my forehead, frustrated and defeated from today’s events.
“Look, I have to go. Thanks for…talking. Take care of yourself, Damien,” I say as I turn on my scuffed heel.
“You do the same, Lucille,” he says, my full name running across my skin like silk when he says it.
He’s still your sister’s husband. Get a hold of yourself, Lucy.
Technically he was her soon-to-beex-husband, but that was irrelevant. Even if he never married my sister, I’m nothing but a street rat beneath him. He owns a successful firm. He’s got more money than my own Senator father and I’ve more than likely given him a savior complex.
I rush out of Fleur de Femme and push out the big breath I didn’t know I was holding when the large doors close behind me and the bustling sounds of Manhattan fill my ears.
I think back to that horrible night nearly three years ago. I was out for drinks with some friends on campus because I had just turned twenty-one. Someone must have spiked something because before I knew it, I was being dragged into an alley by some frat boy. Damien was visiting my sister for her graduation before she would leave for law school. He found me there, half naked from the waist down. My attacker apparently was just zipping up his pants and getting ready to abandon me when Damien found us and beat him within an inch of his life.
