Everything Changes

by Bybee, Catherine

  He walked behind her while she gathered a vase to put the flowers in. Dameon’s strong hands held on to her waist and his lips kissed the side of her neck.

  “You’re making this hard,” she said.

  “I’ll stop.” Only he kissed her neck a second time before placing his lips to her ear. “I want to show you off.”

  Because Dameon had told her they were going into the city, she’d packed an overnight bag to stay at his place. So with that in his hand, and a coat on her shoulders, they headed out for their first official date.

  He led her to a Cadillac sedan and opened the door. “When did you get this?” she asked. She thought she’d be hiking it up in his truck instead of sliding into luxury.

  “I have more than one car,” he told her.

  “Of course you do.”

  He closed the door, rounded the car, and got in on the driver’s side.

  “Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?” she asked.

  He pulled away from her complex and onto the main road. “Since my dad died, I’ve helped sponsor a Heart Association New Year’s Eve event.”

  “Sounds fancy.”

  “Don’t be too impressed. I’m one of many sponsors. I buy a table, invite some of my senior staff to join in. It works for charity and employee morale.”

  Which meant she was going to meet people he worked with. That made her nervous. “I’m glad I dressed up.”

  He reached over, grabbed her hand in his. “They’re a relaxed group. Down to earth.”

  “I won’t dance on a table, don’t worry.”

  His eyes traveled to hers. “Now that I’d like to see.”

  Dameon had seen Grace in her life, her world. Now it was time to see what she looked like in his.

  He drove up to the hotel where the event was taking place and pulled in line for the parking valet.

  “There are a lot of limos.” Grace stared out the windshield.

  “It’s flashier than the Prius the Uber driver uses.”

  As they rounded the corner, Grace found something else to comment on. “Are those reporters?”

  He laughed. “My guess is they call themselves that, but I’m guessing paparazzi is a better description. But don’t worry, they won’t take pictures of us. Not on purpose, anyway.”

  “There are famous people going to this party?”

  He shrugged. “I think so. Those kinds of things don’t impress me.”

  “I haven’t met anyone famous. Don’t let me make a fool of myself.”

  “I’ll let you know if you’re drooling.”

  When their turn came, the valet opened the doors for them. The flashing bulbs and loud clicks of the camera went crazy. By the time Dameon rounded the car and took Grace’s hand in his, the paparazzi had aimed their cameras somewhere else. In his experience, only the new photographers bothered to take his picture, unsure of who he was. And that was how he liked it.

  But Grace was smiling, and it was worth it for him to see the look on her face.

  They were greeted at the door first by the hotel staff, and then by a woman in a black evening dress with a small microphone hanging from an earpiece.

  He approached her and gave both his name and Grace’s.

  Grace squeezed her fingers on the crook of his arm as they walked toward the bank of elevators that would take them to the party.

  “This is a first,” Grace said as they walked through the hotel.

  “If you get enough of that and want to leave . . .”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  Once they were in the main room on the top floor of the hotel, Dameon checked their coats and walked her through the sea of people. The men wore suits, some without ties, some in full-blown tuxedos. The women were a combination of flashy to classy. But it was Grace who managed both. The room was decorated in silver, white, and gold with tons of twinkling lights. A dance floor was set up, and a band filled the space with music. Each table was numbered for dinner seating.

  “Champagne or martini?” Dameon asked.

  Grace looked at the lights above their heads. “This screams champagne.”

  When a waiter walked by with a tray of flute glasses, Dameon snagged two. Before Grace took a sip, he offered a toast. “To new beginnings,” he said.

  She smiled and tapped her glass to his. “I like that.”

  Her eyes glistened as she looked up at him. “Have you ever been to New York?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “I want to see the lights of that city shine in your eyes.” He wanted to see the lights of every city in her eyes. Or maybe even the flickering stars in a moonless desert sky.

  “Either I’m out of practice, or that’s a new pickup line,” she teased.

  Dameon leaned down and whispered in her ear, “I’ve already picked you up, so it isn’t a line.” He kissed the side of her face before settling back on his heels.

  He saw the warmth on her face and the ease of her smile.

  “Excuse me, is this man bothering you?”

  Dameon heard Omar’s voice before he turned to greet his friend. They shook hands and went in for a half hug. “Happy New Year,” Dameon said.

  “Happy New Year to you, too. This must be Grace.”

  Dameon set his glass down and introduced them. “Omar is my CFO and longtime friend.”

  “Friends long before he was my boss,” Omar said as he shook Grace’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “Is that right?” Grace glanced at Dameon. “I’ve heard nothing about you.”

  Omar reached for his chest and winced. “I’m wounded.”

  Dameon laughed. “If I talked about you, she would never have come tonight.”

  The chest Omar was pretending pain with now puffed out like a peacock. “I’m a lady magnet, Grace. He’s just afraid you’ll find me more attractive.”

  Grace visibly relaxed. “The one who struts the most has the least to brag about,” she told him.

  Dameon pointed at his friend. “She’s got ya there.”

  Omar narrowed his eyes. “I like this one.”

  “How many of us are there?” Grace asked, her eyes shifting to Dameon.

  “Let’s see, there’s Ally, Brandy, Connie, Darlene—”

  Dameon nudged Omar away. “Don’t listen to him. He’s reading off his little black book, not mine.”

  “I did like Darlene . . . she did this thing with her ton—”

  “Enough with the details,” Dameon cut him off.

  Grace was laughing, thank God.

  “Have you met the rest of the staff?” Omar asked Grace.

  “Not yet.” Dameon looked around the room, saw a few familiar faces at the silent auction table. “Let’s see what we can spend some money on.” He slid his hand along Grace’s waist and led her away.

  “I see someone I want to say hello to,” Omar said before walking in the opposite direction.

  “Omar doesn’t have an off button,” Dameon told Grace.

  “You two are obviously good friends or he would have kept things polite,” she said.

  “I’m glad you saw that. Because there isn’t a Brandy or Darla.”

  “Darlene,” Grace corrected him.

  “Her either. I date one woman at a time.”

  Grace looked at him. “Really?”

  “I have to juggle work. I refuse to do the same with women.”

  For a minute, he wasn’t sure Grace believed him. But the slow smile that washed over her face told him his words hit home. “Okay, then.”

  They approached the auction table, and Dameon placed both his hands on Grace’s waist while looking over her shoulder at the items being sold.

  “A trip to someone’s summer home in Italy? Who does that?” Grace asked.

  “Someone who doesn’t visit their second home and needs the write-off.”

  “That’s nuts.”

  They moved down the table filled with pricey trips and jewelry. There were studio audience tickets for
talk shows based in LA. Spa baskets for her and eighteen holes on exclusive golf courses for him. Each item she looked at and passed over.

  “See anything you like?” he asked.

  She giggled and whispered, “It’s all out of my price range, but it’s fun to look at.”

  “It’s not out of my price range,” he told her. Although he was fairly certain Grace knew that.

  “Then what do you want? Do you play golf?” She pointed to the golf package.

  “Only when I have to.”

  “The spa? I know you like a good foot pampering,” she teased.

  He lowered his voice and whispered in her ear, “I thought we agreed never to talk about that again.”

  “We did? I don’t remember that conversation.”

  He quickly shifted her gaze to a sapphire necklace displayed on a black cushion. “What about this?”

  “I didn’t know you liked women’s jewelry,” she said. “I never see you wearing any.”

  He squeezed her waist and she squirmed away. “Someone is ticklish.”

  She held his hand to her hip. “Stop,” she giggled.

  Dameon filed away her funny bone for another, more private, time. “Seriously, the necklace would look fabulous on you.”

  “You’re crazy,” she said.

  He kissed her ear before whispering, “Wearing only the necklace.”

  Dameon loved making her blush.

  And to prove a point, he grabbed a pen and wrote his name, table number, and price he was willing to pay to make his fantasy come true.

  Grace placed her hand over his. “What are you doing?”

  He kept writing. “It’s for charity.”

  “You’re nuts.”

  He winked and pulled her along.

  Halfway up the other side, Omar returned. Some of the playfulness from before was gone. “Max is here,” he said while nodding to the opposite side of the room.

  Dameon felt the blissfulness of the night try to sour. Resisting the urge to turn to look at his onetime friend, he kept pace with the people moving through the silent auction line. “It’s an open venue.”

  “He’s sitting at your table.”

  Now that, Dameon wasn’t expecting. Although he probably should have. In years past, Max had been welcome and in fact would often fight to pay for the table.

  “How did that happen?”

  Omar shrugged.

  “Is something wrong?” Grace asked.

  This wasn’t the place to go into details.

  “Dameon’s ex–business partner managed a slot at our table,” Omar said for him.

  Grace’s eyes opened wide and her jaw dropped. “Banks . . . Maxwell Banks?” Grace asked.

  Dameon focused on her. “You know about him?”

  She made a strange face. “I may have looked you up when we first met.”

  This woman never ceased to amaze him. “Is that right?”

  “I only found what the papers talked about.”

  “The details will have to wait,” Dameon told her.

  “Do you want to leave?”

  The fact she even asked made his night. “Do I look like a quitter?”

  Omar laughed.

  “Okay, then. Let the show begin.”

  Dameon wrapped an arm over her shoulders and pulled her close. He was falling fast for this woman.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  To say she was blown away by the entire experience of walking into a red-carpet, star-studded New Year’s Eve event, having Dameon place an obscene bid down for a necklace he wanted to see her naked in, and finally landing in a full-blown soap opera drama with an ex–business partner was an understatement . . . Grace was on a rocket shooting to the moon.

  Dameon walked her around the room, introduced her to more people than she would ever remember.

  A few stuck out.

  Chelsea, who worked with him . . . Omar, of course, and Tyler, who she had met before.

  Everyone else was a blur.

  At one point, someone took a microphone and told everyone the silent auction was closing and dinner was about to be served. She felt tension roll off Dameon in waves. Instead of pointing it out, she squeezed his hand and smiled anytime he looked at her.

  They took their seats for dinner. Half the people there were all smiles, the others were reserved.

  And when the cause of those half smiles walked up, Dameon’s hand reached for her knee under the table and squeezed.

  She heard more than one person suck in a breath.

  For the first time, Grace watched Dameon put on a political face. The kind one had to use when dealing with adversity while remaining polite. “Max? This is a surprise.” Dameon stood and reached out a hand.

  Maxwell Banks had a very distinct look.

  Privileged.

  His skin was tan, his hair blond, and his suit screamed money.

  He shook Dameon’s hand before looking around the table. “I see the team’s all here,” he said before unbuttoning his jacket and taking his seat.

  “How have you been?” Dameon asked in an obvious attempt at small talk.

  “Never better.” Maxwell’s eyes moved to Grace.

  Instinctively, she smiled.

  “And who is this?”

  Dameon looked at her. “Grace Hudson, this is Max.”

  Max reached across the table. She had no choice but to shake the man’s hand. “Max Banks,” the man corrected. And when he did, he squeezed Grace’s hand . . . twice.

  She held in every possible comment on that move.

  “Nice to meet you,” she said.

  Grace settled next to Dameon, making sure it was clear she wasn’t available.

  Max’s eyes flared.

  “What brings you here tonight?” Dameon asked.

  “Same as you. A little entertainment, a good cause. A happy New Year . . .”

  Omar shook his head with a laugh.

  Max turned his eyes on him. “Have something to say?”

  “Nothing that wouldn’t make everyone at the table uncomfortable, so I’ll keep it to myself.” Omar lifted his glass filled with amber liquid and drank.

  “I see nothing has changed.”

  Chelsea leaned forward. “How’s your father, Max? I heard he isn’t well.”

  For a brief moment, Grace saw Max’s armor crack. “He’s doing better than the news would lead you to believe.”

  “I’m happy to hear that.”

  The staff at the hotel took that moment to arrive with their first course. Some kind of morsel on a plate that looked more like art than food.

  The tables around them were idly chatting while theirs was filled with tension and silence.

  “You’re a new addition, Miss Hudson. What do you do for Dameon?” Max asked.

  “I’m not sure I understand your question.”

  Dameon glared at Max. “Grace doesn’t work for me.”

  “Is that right?” Max kept staring at her.

  “What do you do for a living, Mr. Banks?” Grace asked, changing the subject.

  Before Max could answer, Omar spoke up. “Max spends his father’s money.”

  Max shifted his gaze. “It’s called managing the family empire, Omar. Something you know nothing about.”

  Two of the guests at the table were purposely looking away.

  “I’ve seen firsthand how you manage Daddy’s cash—”

  “Okay, guys. Let’s not do this here,” Dameon interrupted Omar.

  Grace placed a hand on Dameon’s knee.

  Omar leaned back, ignoring the food on his plate.

  “Do you work, Grace?” Max continued.

  “I’m a civil engineer.”

  Max actually laughed.

  “How is that funny?” Dameon asked.

  “That’s not exactly your type.”

  Before Dameon could say something, Grace leaned in. “When you were a child, did your report card tell your parents that you didn’t get along well with others?”

 
Max lost his grin.

  Omar laughed.

  Dameon kept his voice low. “I’m not sure what your point is by being here, Max. It’s obviously not to bury any hard feelings. And it certainly isn’t for the entertainment or charity work. But I would appreciate it if you left my date out of whatever bone you’re trying to pick.”

  The waiters swooped in and removed the untouched appetizer plates.

  “Must be a serious relationship,” Max said.

  “Why do you care?” Grace found herself asking.

  “Dameon, Omar, and I go way back. We used to pass our dates around, didn’t we?”

  “That’s enough,” Dameon warned him.

  But Grace had heard enough to realize what Max was doing.

  “Too close to the truth for you, old friend?”

  It was Grace’s turn to laugh. “So this is a penis-measuring contest, right?”

  All eyes turned her way.

  “I have two older brothers who always had friends around when I was growing up. And whenever they had a falling-out with someone in their friend group, it always ended with some kind of chest-bumping I’m a bigger man thing.” Grace glanced at Chelsea. “Classic mine is bigger than yours.” Grace shifted her gaze to Max. “Only my brothers both grew out of that behavior in college.”

  Dameon grasped her hand.

  “Grace is right, Max. This is beneath you. If you came here to say something, do it. But leave Grace and everyone else out of it.”

  Max pushed his chair back. “You’re right, Dameon. This is beneath me. I honestly thought half your employees would have realized they were on a sinking ship and not be here tonight. But you must be keeping up the facade since the gang is all here. I’ll be sure and check back in six months when you claim bankruptcy.” He stood to leave.

  “Don’t hold your breath,” Omar said.

  Max played with the cuff of his jacket, his eyes glued to Dameon’s, and then walked away.

  There was a collective sigh at the table when he left.

  “That was entertaining,” Grace joked.

  “What an ass,” Chelsea said.

  Dameon brought Grace’s hand off his lap and kissed her fingers.

  Omar cleared his throat. “So, did anyone taste the appetizer?”

  Grace ran her foot down Dameon’s leg as she stretched beside him on his bed. She played with the sapphire necklace he had put on her before they left the hotel.