“Next, you’re going to tell me the moon landing is fake.”
“Oh, come on.” I raise my voice a little and Lake fidgets in his sleep. I dropped it to a whisper. “She must have accidentally dropped by your place with a bag full of treats that might harm my child for no other reason.”
Damien rolls his eyes. “I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this.”
Why am I bothering with trying to convince him? Damien is convinced that I am the worst person he’s ever met, while hecan never make the fatal mistake of thinking someone he trusts would poison his child.
“Believe whatever you want to believe, but I don’t want Nicole anywhere near Lake ever again.”
“I think you’re being a little dramatic.”
“I’m serious.” The room goes quiet and the only sound that can be heard is the beeping of the machine and Lake’s ragged breathing. Damien stares at me. I stand my ground. Finally, he relents. “Whatever makes you happy, Ivy.”
“And I don’t want her coming to your place like she lives there.”
“She’s my assistant. How else is she supposed to do her job?”
“At your office. During office hours.”
“I’m sure she’d be happy to hear that.”
The room goes silent again as Damien and I sit on opposite sides of the bed watching Lake. Of course, he’s attached to Nicole. When he was working for Hawthorne Inc., she served as his assistant. And when he left the company; she followed him like she wasRenée ZellwegerinJerry Maguire. She has worked for him since and is probably his most loyal lieutenant. I wonder if she’s more than that. If she’s offered services, that went beyond her job description. My chest clenches as irrational jealousy builds up inside me. Images of her and Damien having sex in his office pop into my head. Damien doesn’t strike me as the type to fuck his secretary, but he has an insatiable appetite. And Nicole is really good-looking. She’s certainly more put together than I am. Suddenly, the idea is no longer laughable. How many times have they had sex, I wonder? Was their relationship casual or something more? Thoughts of the two of them together dominate my mind until I burst out, “Have you ever slept with her?”
Damien frowns, and then his face shines as though some realization has dawned on him. “You’re jealous of Nicole?”
“No!” I feel exposed. Like my heart is bared open and he can see every yearning written on it.
“If you must know,” he says with a smirk on his face, “Nicole is not my type. And I don’t shit where I eat. Learned that lesson the hard way.” I don’t need to ask to know what he’s referring to. At least he’s no longer blaming me for that night.
“What’s your type?” I blurt out without meaning to.
He smiles. “Are you wondering if you fit the criteria?”
“I’m only making conversation. If you don’t want to respond, you don’t have to.”
Damien strides over to where I am sitting and takes the chair next to me. My pulse speeds up just that much faster. I was having sex with this man a few hours ago. Despite that, my body reacts like that of a hormonal teenager. “I wouldn’t say I have a type per se, but if I have to think about it, I would say, someone who’s smart. Definitely that. I can’t stand dumbasses.” He looks up at the ceiling. “Someone kind and fun to be around. Someone caring, but feisty and a fighter when threatened. And of course great in bed.”
I feel inadequate when he mentions all of that. I’m sure he sees me as having qualities opposite to the ones he mentioned. “Not a supermodel with double d boobs and a tiny waist?”
“Surprised I’m not superficial?”
I’ve never thought him to be superficial, but he is known for dating supermodels. I’ve never followed his dating life closely, but whenever he’s mentioned in the news, it is always with a beautiful woman on his arm. Sometimes an actress and sometimes a model. “What about all the famous women you’ve dated?”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Some of them are smarter than you. Some of them are smart enough to be scientists, but they chose a different profession.”
“I’m not putting myself in the running for your affections.”Liar.Even Damien can tell that it's a lie. I have vied for his attention in the past. To an embarrassing extent. I wonder if he hated me even back then. It’s clear he despises me now and only tolerates me because of Lake. Tonight quashed any dream little old me used to have. That ideal I strove for, of marrying him and making love to him, had happened, but my wish came from a monkey’s paw. Instead of a lovely big wedding with all my relatives there, it was a small and done in service for an agreement. Instead of Damien making love to me and whispering sweet nothings in my ear, I get a vengeful Damien who wants to exact revenge in any way possible.
So why do I still want him? Because I am in love with him, that’s why. He can hurt me a thousand times over. He can make me cry, bruise my ego, and kill my dreams and I will love him, regardless.
The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. Damien will never love me. Tonight is all the proof I needed. He loves Lake, but not me. Never me. And it’s about time I make peace with that. Instead of trying to look for the old Damien inside him, I have to accept that he was a figment of my imagination.
Chapter 22
Damien
After we return with Luke from the hospital, Ivy and I enter a strange unspoken routine. We both go to work in the morning and then come back home and pretend to be a loving mother and father for Lake. We play games, watch his favorite cartoons, and talk about his day. When we retire to bed, the routine shifts from PG to straight-up X-rated. Ivy and I rarely speak, if at all. All the talking is done by our bodies. Their language transcends any feelings, good or bad, we have for each other. In bed, at night, I can give up myself to Ivy and surrender to her mind-blowing lovemaking and she surrenders to mine. Each time feels better than the last, and yet something is still missing.
Every time we finish making love, my mind goes to our night at Hamptons. The humiliation ritual I had planned for her. It should have satisfied me enough to end whatever hold she had on me and yet, Ivy Hawthorne has me in a chokehold still. I still want her. And worse, I feel guilty. I did not get the satisfaction of humiliating her I was hoping for. When she looked at me with tears in her eyes when I told her it was her father’s bed, I should have rejoiced. But I wanted to wipe them away and tell her I was lying. But I wasn’t. And I couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come out.
