“Nothing! She’s nothing to me, but a worker!” he snapped.
“And yet you can’t tell me what she’s doing for you.”
His eyes flashed angrily. “I’m your husband, Kat! I love you and I trust you. Why can’t you show me the same fucking courtesy?”
***
“I’ve never given you a reason to doubt me, Damien!” Tired of fighting and wondering what it was her husband was hiding, Kat just wanted some time to take her mind off Damien and her crumbling marriage. She’d forgone her anger for acceptance and had planned to leave her home without a huge argument. Damien’s parting question had just changed that. “If you’d followed me to another man’s apartment and found him smelling like me, or wearing my lipstick, you’d feel the same way. You’d probably react worse than I did.”
The one time she’d seen Damien in a jealous rage had been years ago when he’d walked in on a study session with her and an ex. It had been completely innocent—they’d been in the living room with their World Politics books and supplements out—but Damien’s reaction had almost rivaled hers. If not for a few of her roommates, who were also a part of the study group, holding him back, there would have been a fight.
Some of his anger evaporated as she put it into perspective, and his shoulders slumped. His eyes went to floor and a lock of straight hair fell forward into his face.
“I’ll explain everything tomorrow,” he finally said.
“No, Damien!” This was getting ridiculous. Why was he doing this? Didn’t he understand that she wanted to trust him but he was making it difficult? “Explain it now, while I’m willing to listen and you couldn’t lie if you wanted to.”
Although his emotions were scary, she liked him like this. He said what he felt, what was true, instead of what she wanted to hear.
“It’s nothing bad, Kat. I swear to you, it’s not bad.”
“Just tell me then.”
“Baby...just give me tonight. Just one night.” Powder blue eyes pleaded with her, and that sent a terrified shiver down her spine.
Damien never begged, so why was he doing so now?
Frustrated tears filled her eyes and she shook her head. “No. I’m willing to believe you’re not sleeping with her, but she knows something you don’t want me to know, Damien. Did she see something?” She swallowed. “Was there another woman?”
“Kat, I told you this already. I’m not having an affair and I’ve never had one. Period.”
“Just tell me what you ARE doing!”
Inhaling deeply, Damien stood straight, looking across the distance at her. “I’m not doing anything but loving my wife and trying to make her happy. You’re either going to trust that, or you’re not.”
She was done. This was getting them nowhere.
Grabbing her tote, Kat turned on her heels and made her way to the elevator.
“Kat...”
She stopped immediately, her heart thundering as she thought this was it. Her husband would tell her everything now. Not knowing was even more painful than knowing and learning to work around it.
“Kat, look at me.”
Turning slowly, Kat recognized he hadn’t moved. “When I said my vows, promised to cherish and trust you, I meant every word. If...” He cleared his throat and the tiredness of his face faded away for an expressionless mask. “If there’s no trust between us, there can be no marriage.”
Her body went cold at his words but she kept her eyes on him.
“My wife has to be able to trust me.”
“And I have to be able to trust my husband.”
Touché.
They were both silent as they stared at each other across the expanse of the living room. Kat waited, hoped, that he would explain what it was she’d walked in on tonight. She didn’t know what he was thinking because he’d slipped behind his professional mask.
Finally, after a five minute impasse, Kat turned and continued to the elevator.
Chapter 5
“Mind telling me what this is about?”
Damien’s head snapped up at the voice, remembering only then that Gavin was perched on the couch across from him, a glass of ginger ale in one hand. He’d been lost in his thoughts, replaying his wife walking out on him too many times to count. It was like a dream—a nightmare—and in many ways, Damien still couldn’t believe it. Did she really trust him that little that she’d throw away eight years for something so insignificant?
“Yes.”
His answer given, Damien took another swill of the potent amber liquid in his glass.
Hennessy. It was his second glass.
In college, it had been his drink of choice. He’d always been the type of man who committed to one type of alcohol and his choice was the cinnamon and spice blend currently warming his stomach. He drank only occasionally and this was one of the times when the fire and ice liquid was needed.
“Where’s your wife?”
That question earned his friend a glare. With an easy shrug, Gavin surveyed the living room. “Thought she’d be here.”
“At her parents’.” He could imagine Kat standing alongside Catherine, who’d parade her daughter around to her group of friends, probably ecstatic that he wasn’t there.
The thought made him take another drink.
“And you’re here?”
“Obviously,” Damien growled, not liking where this conversation was going. The only reason Gavin was at his home was because Vanya had completed her project. As his friend was heading back to the city for the night, he’d opted to deliver the items to Damien.
“Is this about Vanya?”
Knowing there would be no muzzling Gavin, who was like a hungry dog with a bone once he’d set his mind to something, Damien answered, “It’s about marriage.”
“And Vanya.”
Damien didn’t answer. It was about the fact that his wife didn’t trust him. After eight years together, three in marriage, Kat would rather leave him than give him the benefit of the doubt. She knew he wasn’t cheating, but the fact that Vanya hadn’t wanted to speak to her had heightened her suspicions to the point of leaving? It made no sense.
“So, you two are fighting because Kat found you at Vanya’s apartment—?”
“This isn’t about Vanya!” Damien took another swig of his drink, thankful for the burn that warmed his cold body. “It’s about my wife being unable to trust me because she’s letting other people into our marriage.”
“Zaire?” Hearing the bitter edge to Gavin’s voice, Damien couldn’t say he didn’t feel the same.
“And Kat’s parents.”
“What did you tell Kat about Vanya?”
“The truth,” Damien growled.
“Which is?”
“That she was working on a special project for me.”
At the silence that followed, Damien lifted his eyes from his dwindling drink to his expectant friend.
“And?”
Annoyed, Damien pushed from the armchair and headed for the kitchen. He needed a refill. As he poured, Gavin joined him, propping his body against the pine-wood and mosaic-peach stone, granite island, as he quietly surveyed Damien.
“What?”
“Did you tell her the shirt Vanya was wearing was mine?”
Damien sighed. He hadn’t had to. Gavin had entered and clarified the confusion about the shirt. “She knows it wasn’t mine.”
Gavin was silent for a long time and Damien had slipped back into his thoughts when his friend asked, “When was the last time you two had sex?”
Damien’s head whipped up at the unexpected question. “What kind of fucking question is that, Gavin?”
“A legitimate one.” Gavin arched a brow and smirked. “You and Kat are like a real-life Brady Bunch except you don’t have that many kids yet, or an Alice, and Kat’s black...” Gavin trailed off when Damien closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and shook his head. “You get what I’m saying.”
“No, I don’t.” Either the alcohol was
getting to him, or his friend was making no sense. Damien was inclined to think the latter. He would need more than the few glasses he’d had for things to slip out of perspective.
Gavin chuckled. “You two are perfect. You fell in love in college, never split up, got married, and have a really cute kid. I mean, I tell you this all the time because it’s true: Kat’s got you whipped and you’re so gone, you couldn’t care.”
“Your point?”
“Kat walked out on you on New Year’s Eve.”
“I fucking know that.”
“Why?”
“I just answered that question!” They might have grown up together—the sons of two prominent families—but Damien was itching to plant his fist in Gavin’s face if he didn’t stop with the pointless questions.
“Trust.” Gavin shrugged his shoulders and rolled his head against his neck. “I don’t know much about it, but from what I remember about Kat, I know she wouldn’t walk out on you unless she’s convinced you’ve done something wrong.”
Damien felt the tension leave his shoulders. God, he needed to sit down. His body felt heavy, like a weight was pressing him down.
“I told you, she’s listening to other people instead of me, her husband. Her mother’s been poisoning her against me from the moment she introduced us. And then there’s Zaire. What the hell did I ever do to her? God only knows how long Z’s been telling her about me visiting Vanya—.”
“Did you tell Kat Vanya was doing work for you?”
“I told my wife the truth and she walked out on me.”
“Why?”
This was getting them nowhere. They were talking in circles and Damien was getting a headache. Bracing back against the counter, he lifted his gaze to the clock. Eleven thirty. In half an hour, it would be a new year, and he’d be sitting in the armchair in the living room. Alone.
As he lowered his eyes, his gaze met Gavin’s curious one. “Look, I appreciate you bringing me the items, but I’m sure you’ve got some party to attend.”
Upon entering, Gavin hadn’t removed his jacket, only unbuttoned it. It was a sure sign he meant the visit to be quick. “I do.”
“Good.” Damien headed for the living room, thankful that his friend was going to let him wallow in his disbelief and anger alone. “Don’t let me keep you.”
“You won’t.”
Moving to the side, Damien waited for Gavin to pass him and walk to the elevator. His friend didn’t. Instead, he moved to the closet and pulled out one of Damien’s coats. Confused, Damien watched him approach.
It was only shock that allowed Gavin to pluck Damien’s drink from his hand and replace it with the coat. “Put it on.”
“Why? I’m not going anywhere—.”
“Yes, you are. Put it on, Damien.” As he prepared to give his friend a serious set down, Gavin walked away with Damien’s drink. His voice called out from the kitchen, “You’re miserable and I’m feeling bad for you, so I’m going to be a good friend and put a stop to this ridiculousness before either of you do something you regret.”
Gavin reappeared, sans the drink, to an angry and still coatless Damien. “I’m not chasing her, Gavin. She made her choice. She walked out on me. I...asked her not to go, and she still left.”
“Yes, she left.” Gavin said it without rancor or judgment. He walked to where he’d left his shoes and slipped them on. “She left you because she found you in an apartment with a beautiful woman you didn’t want her to speak to. Everything to do with Vanya is suspicious. I understand it couldn’t be helped, but you didn’t do yourself any favors by refusing to tell her what Vanya was doing for you.”
“I told her to trust me.”
“And I asked when was the last time you screwed your wife.”
His emotions on high, Damien gripped his friend’s lapels and shoved him into the wall.
“That’s none of your fucking business!”
Seriously. Gavin might be his closest friend but Damien did not discuss his sexual relationship with his wife with anyone.
“The fact that you’re this angry tells me at least a couple of months—.” Gavin broke off to wince as Damien hurled him forward only to smash him into the wall again. His face= lost its ease as a frown marred his brow. “I’m going to give you that one because I’ve known you for a long time and you’re obviously not thinking clearly.”
Gavin’s hands pried his fingers away and his friend opened the distance between them. He carefully brushed out his shirt and coat. “Put the coat on.”
“No.” Last Damien checked, he was a grown man, and if he didn’t want to go to the Harrison’s to get the wife who’d willingly left him, he could damn well not.
“Okay.” As he watched, Gavin moved over to the key bowl and quickly reached into it.
“Hey!” Before he could protest further, his friend was high-tailing it for the elevator. Unable to believe his eyes, Damien blinked in confusion as Gavin stepped into the elevator, jingled the keys, and closed the elevator door. Unsure of what had just happened, yet having the bottoming out feeling in the pit of his belly, Damien moved to the key bowl and blinked at what he saw.
Gavin hadn’t taken the keys to his Jaguar—he could have gotten back to his angry brooding if he’d taken those—but the keys to his 1961 Ferrari 250 GT SWB Spider, a gift from his deceased grandfather. It was the car that Damien drove seven days a year, if so often. It was parked in one of the few single, enclosed garages the apartment complex had because Damien couldn’t fathom leaving the car out. It would be ogled, perhaps touched, and somehow, there would be a scratch.
Not only was the car not meant to be driven in the winter, although the weather on the last day of the year seemed more spring than winter, it was his other baby, his pride and joy, and no one drove it but him, and on that one occasion because he’d been trying to so hard to impress her, Kat.
Grabbing his keys, Damien slipped into his coat and shoes, and quickly followed his soon-to-be deceased, ex-friend.
***
“I’m really sorry.”
“You should be more than sorry, bitch.” The returned words were low, but a few of the guests next to the swan ice sculpture where Kat and her friends stood, overheard Princess and sent withering glares. Completely undeterred, Princess continued, “This is your fault, Z. You completely screwed the Pope on this one.”
Her friends’ roles had been reversed, with Zaire remaining silent, though it was obvious from her mutinous expression that she did so only with effort, as Princess vented angrily.
“I know. You don’t have to constantly remind me.”
“I want to,” Princess rebutted. “This is the shit that happens when you start projecting your issues into other people’s lives.”
“I didn’t put my issues—.”
“Bullshit.” That earned Princess another glare, which she returned to the grand dame doing it, before returning her attention to Zaire. “If you’d done your research before getting Kat upset over nothing, you’d have found out Gavin, not Damien, was banging the blond.”
Zaire looked away, but didn’t contradict the statements. Placing a restraining hand on Princess’s arm, Kat addressed Zaire, “You were only looking out for me, Z. It’s not your fault.”
In the cab ride over, she’d had time to think about her friend’s part in this situation. Although, initially, she’d been angry with Zaire, Kat had reasoned that Zaire was doing what she’d done from the moment they’d become friends: looking out for Kat. Had their roles been reversed and Kat had learned of the possibility of Zaire’s boyfriend or husband cheating, she would have done the same.
“It’s mostly your fault,” Princess cut in, before turning on Kat with a raised brow. “And why are you at this stuffy party anyway? Why aren’t you with your husband, who wasn’t cheating on you like Ms. Z over here thought?”
“Because...” Kat trailed off because if she was being honest with herself, her reasons for being at her parents’ soiree and not with her husband
, were beginning to seem a trifle silly. Damien was hiding something from her but she didn’t know what it was and she hadn’t been willing to give him the time to explain. She remembered him asking for a day and felt the seeds of doubt take root once more. As she’d sat in the taxi, Kat had begun to second guess her decision to leave, and on New Year’s Eve too, but she’d resolved that it was for the best.
Time.
They needed time away from each other. She didn’t trust him and, by continuing to hide things from her, Damien had made her even more paranoid. Kat didn’t know what to think.
“Because?” Princess’s voice pulled her back to the party going on around them.
In the cab, she’d called and invited Zaire and Princess to her parent’s party, expecting to be turned down. They both weren’t fans of her mother as Catherine, in typical fashion, had insulted both before, but she was glad when her friends had shown up.
“Because we both needed some time away from each other.” It sounded hollow even to her ears.
“Time?” Princess scoffed, turning to stare at her up and down before shaking her head. “What y’all need is time alone in that big, King-sized bed of yours, and that’ll cure all of this confused, pent-up anger you have towards him.”
Blushing to her roots, Kat shook her head. “I don’t have any pent-up anger.”
“Whatever you want to call it, honey.” Princess lowered her voice until it was just above the melodic, festive song playing in the background. “You need a good fuck from that sexy husband of yours, and once you’ve gotten one off, I’m sure you’ll start thinking more clearly.”
“Zaire. Princess.” Catherine Harrison approached easily, invading their circle with the ease and grace of a woman accustomed to doing so. As Princess pasted on a wide, fake smile and Zaire grimaced, the closest she ever got to a smile in Catherine’s presence, Kat’s eyes found the vintage gold clock against the wall.
Ten minutes until New Years, and she was beginning to seriously regret her decision to leave her husband and come here.
A New Year's Surprise Page 4