by Leigh, Tara
“Maybe.” I hike up on my toes to brush my lips across Damon’s, a shiver traveling through me. “But with you, I have fireworks. So much better.”
The bob of his Adam’s apple hits me somewhere deep. “And that’s enough for you? Are you sure?”
Damon King.
Fireworks.
“Yes. It’s more than enough. You’re more than enough.”
He’s everything. My everything.
24
DAMON
A disquieting mix of gratitude and reluctance flows through my veins as the elevator descends to my underground office. Emotions that only intensify when Aislinn slips her small hand into mine.
And squeezes.
Like she’s giving me reassurance.
I look down to see a grin trembling on her lips. A reassuring grin.
Jesus Fucking Christ. After what Aislinn’s been through—she should be cursing me. Hell, she should be running in the opposite direction. Far and fast.
After what I just told her, Aislinn should be taking some time to herself. To rest, to heal, to process everything that’s been thrown at her in the past week and a half.
Instead, she’s right by my side. And I don’t doubt that if I had attempted to leave my bedroom alone, she would have jumped on my back and clung to me like a monkey.
I’m still trying to figure out what to say—some way to explain what she’s about to walk into—when the elevator door opens and Aislinn does indeed walk into it.
For a moment, I see everything through her eyes. The cement floor and exposed pipes. The walls covered in flat screens. The rows and rows of computers. Towers of hard drives with their flashing green and red lights.
But as we move away from the elevator, the low hum of voices cuts to silence as everyone swivels around to stare at the new face in their midst. Instinctively, Aislinn takes a step toward me, her upper arm pressing against my side. I slide a hand to her lower back, my fingers curling around her waist.
And then it’s my turn to give Aislinn a reassuring squeeze.
I don’t know what I’m doing. Right now, I barely know who the fuck I am.
But this girl right here, Aislinn Granville, I do know that she’s mine. All mine.
She even told me so herself.
My eyes land on Finley’s just as I hear a gasp coming from Aislinn.
She’s staring over Finley’s head at the pictures taken of the estate. The enormous house, landscaped grounds, and imposing wrought iron gates.
The man sprawled on a stone patio, the stones above his shoulders stained a deep cherry red.
Another man with a bullet wound through his forehead, slumped against the balcony railing.
The crumpled Jeep with a third, obviously dead man in the passenger seat.
I wrap my arm around Aislinn, expecting her to turn away, to press her face into my chest. But instead, she points at one screen in particular. “Where’s Michael?” Her voice is breathless and thready, her stare unblinking.
“Michael?”
“The guy who was driving the Jeep. Michael. He—he was the dog walker.”
“How many were at the house with you?”
“Five. Three guards, Sebastián, and Michael.”
I look to Finley. “Find him.”
She nods, one finger already tapping her headset. “On it.”
I gently guide Aislinn to my office and close the door. She crosses her arms over her chest and rubs her arms as if she’s chilled. “What is this place?”
I can spend the next few hours explaining all about heat expenditures and energy requirements of my operation, and the reasons I’ve chosen the bowels of New York City as my headquarters. But I have more pressing concerns. I loop my arms around her waist, sharing my warmth. “I’d like to bring your mother here.”
Aislinn seems momentarily taken aback, but she regains her composure quickly. “Is that really necessary? She doesn’t do well in new places. She’ll be confused and upset. We can’t do that to her.”
I expected that. “Okay. I’ll speak to your father about getting a team inside their home.”
She looks away from me and worries at her lower lip. “That’s definitely better … but what about Marisol? She doesn’t do well around most men, especially those carrying weapons.”
“There are women on my payroll. I’ll have them stationed inside. They’ll be armed, of course, but—”
“That’s fine. Does he know I was taken?”
“Yes. Cruz made contact with Lytton and I’ve been keeping tabs on their communication.” Using his phone, I attempted to engage Cruz, but his only response was a once-daily photograph of Aislinn holding that day’s newspaper.
“You’ve spoken with my father?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Was he—was he worried about me?”
My heart aches for the insecurity threaded through Aislinn’s tone. “Yes. We all were.” I exhale a frustrated breath of air. “The photos kept me from losing my mind. But not knowing exactly what condition you were being kept … I—”
She covers my mouth with her fingers. “That’s behind us now.” Her hand drops and for a moment I simply take comfort in her proximity, breathing in the sweetness of her scent.
“I want to know more about Ace.”
Her question breaks me out of my trance. “I told you—”
“I’m not asking about my mother’s relationship with Ace. I want to know yours. About how you and I intersect.”
I swallow heavily. Recalling the photographs of a beautiful blonde taped to the pockmarked walls of a prison cell. “Ace asked me to keep an eye on you when I got out. You were a student at Columbia. It wasn’t hard for me to blend in on campus, audit a few courses.”
“You watched me?”
“A little.” Enough to realize that the pictures on the wall didn’t do Aislinn Granville justice. She was smart and kind and compassionate. A ray of light and life in a dark, drab world. Volunteering at a women’s shelter and for Davina’s organization.
Aislinn purses her full lips. “So, that’s it. You kept an eye on me for Ace.”
“Kind of. I never planned to do anything more than that.” I make a sweeping gesture with my arms. “What kind of life can I give you, Aislinn? Look at what I’ve brought you into.”
Understanding creeps into her expression, grabbing hold of her features. “There was no political operative looking to destroy my father’s career, was there? The audio recording … that was you, right?”
Staring into Aislinn’s true blue eyes, I want to deny it. But I can’t. “I’m sorry, princess.” I push my fingers into the hair at the back of her neck, my wrists resting on the subtle rise of her shoulders as I kiss the groove that appears between her brows. “I fucking hate being the guy that puts this frown on your face.”
“Then tell me the truth. Why the elaborate deception? Why go to all that trouble when—”
“Would you have believed me?” I interrupt. “I know about criminals. It’s what I do. And when your father and Chad started cracking down on Los Muertos, I couldn’t take the chance of you getting hurt. I had to step in—and I did it the only way I knew how.”
“By lying.”
I offer a shallow nod, my heart thudding as I stare into Aislinn’s deep blue eyes. “And I’d do it again. At that moment, a lie was what I believed would keep you safe. We all make choices, Aislinn. Every minute of every goddamn day.”
I pause, slowing down the cadence of my speech for emphasis. “Know this, I will choose you. Any day, any time. Every time. It’s always been you. Nothing and no one is more important to me than you are.”
“What about Finley?”
I blink, my brows drawing together. “Finley?”
“Yes. What do you really know about her?”
Does Aislinn suspect …? “What are you asking?”
“I think she’s the mole.”
“I think this mole bullshit is a lie.” I had my doubts about Finley after
Aislinn was taken and they’d been completely disproved. “Just Sebastián Cruz trying to get inside your head.”
She crosses her arms and glares at me. “That’s not what he’s doing.”
“Oh no?”
“No.”
“So, you’re taking his word over mine?”
She throws up her hands. “For God’s sake, he saved my life.”
I go still. The implication of her reply smacking me in the face. The truth tearing me apart inside.
And. I. Didn’t.
Not this time.
Sebastián Fucking Cruz took her and saved her and returned her.
I hate him. I owe him. I will destroy him.
Aislinn distracts from my anguished thoughts by throwing her arms around me. “Hey,” she whispers, her hands cupping my face as she forces my gaze to hers. “I came back to you. I’m here with you. I would never have married Sebastián, ever.”
The thought of Aislinn promising herself to another man is a lightning rod prodding my balls. The jolt so fierce and intense, for a moment my vision goes dark, my equilibrium swept aside.
Our foreheads have gravitated toward each other, our lips hovering just inches apart. We are breathing each other in, sharing each other’s air, our breaths becoming one. This moment feels more intimate than a kiss. More intimate than what we did upstairs. Aislinn is like an extra atom of oxygen in the atmosphere. My lungs are full, my veins buzzing with a peculiar mix of gratitude and excitement.
Slowly, I lower myself to one knee. Grounded by one incontrovertible truth. “You will not marry anyone else but me, princess.”
25
AISLINN
The blood drains from my face as I look down at Damon. “What are you doing? Get up.”
He shakes his head. “I mean it. Marry me.”
My mouth goes dry, the muscles lining my throat compressing my airway. “Why?” It’s all I manage to say, despite the dozen other words blazing through my mind like a meteor shower.
“If Cruz is using you as Sebastián’s entré into New York society, he’ll want vows exchanged in front of everyone who is anyone in this city. And he’s devout enough to insist on a church wedding.”
Ignoring the absurdity of a pious drug lord, I follow Damon’s train of thought. “And no priest will marry a woman who is already married in the eyes of God.”
“Exactly. You would have to get an annulment, and those take time.” He reaches for my hand and plants a kiss on the inside of my wrist. “Let’s do this. It’s an easy obstacle to throw in Cruz’s path.”
I pull my hand from Damon’s grasp, turning away before he can see me wince. This is his proposal? I feel … cheated.
I take a few steps away from him, needing a moment to sort through my thoughts.
If Chad had actually proposed, and I said yes, I would have been cheating myself.
If I had taken Sebastián’s proposal seriously, our marriage would have been a lie.
However, making a commitment to Damon, and receiving one in return, isn’t an unpleasant concept.
Not at all.
Unlike with Sebastián and Chad, I don’t recoil in horror at the thought of marrying Damon. In fact, there is a strange surge of possessiveness that wraps around my brainstem. This man is mine.
Damon King is no storybook prince, and yet he makes me crave a picture perfect, happily ever after ending.
He is the man of my dreams.
The devil who danced into my heart, the monster who slayed my nightmares, the lover of my fantasies.
I turn back around to find Damon still on one knee, staring at me expectantly. Like a punch to the stomach, it hits me.
I love Damon King.
A love that is clearly unrequited. His proposal is merely a solution, an obstacle to throw in Cruz’s path.
I clear my throat in an attempt to dislodge the hurt clogging it. “Is that all marriage is to you, a weapon in your arsenal?”
He rises to his feet slowly, until he towers over me once again. “What are you really asking?”
I don’t want to ask Damon about his feelings for me. Because if he doesn’t feel the same way, I’m not sure I could handle the answer.
And because I want him to tell me, on his own. But the question sits on my tongue, and it won’t be swallowed down. “I need—I need to know …”
“What? Tell me.”
I sigh, looking him straight in the eye and trying to fight the gravitational pull that makes me want to throw myself into his arms. “The truth, Damon. It’s all I’ve ever needed.”
He hesitates for a moment before admitting, “I care for you, Aislinn.”
My blood heats, racing through my veins. I briefly wonder if the blue veins that crisscross the skin on the inside of my wrists have turned pink. “You care for me? Like I’m a patient you’re responsible for—or a penniless orphan you feel obligated to support?”
He looks at me in bewilderment. “Of course not.”
“Then what? You’ll divorce me next month or next year or whenever Hugo Cruz decides I’m not worth the trouble?”
His expression becomes a scowl, and he takes a step back. “We’re not married yet and you’re already talking about a divorce?”
I run a trembling hand through my hair, turning away and averting my face from Damon’s penetrating gaze. “Why not? I mean, if vows to honor and cherish each other won’t actually mean anything—”
Damon grabs me by the elbow, spinning me around to face him. “Aislinn, I’ve honored and cherished you since before you knew my name. When I speak those vows, I will mean them. Because I already do.”
The breath catches in the back of my throat. “You do?”
“Yes.” He looks away. “But I don’t expect you to feel the same way …”
Damon’s words are straightforward even as they trail off into silence, the expression on his face earnest. And suddenly, all I want to do is fall at his feet and grieve. This incredible man has been made to feel like a burden for most of his life.
I take his face into my hands, running my thumb over his weathered and stubbled skin, his strong jaw jutting into my palm. And I whisper, “You are worthy, Damon.”
A long moment passes as we simply stare into each other’s eyes. My blue meeting his brown. There is no heated clash, no battle of wills.
Just a softening as frothy bubbles of hope tickle my skin, like foam from the surf.
I love this man. Maybe Damon doesn’t love me yet, or maybe he just doesn’t realize he loves me yet. Either way, my love is big and strong and bold enough for the both of us. “Okay then. My answer is y—”
The door flies open, Burke stopping short at the threshold. “Sorry, boss. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Damon glances over at him. “Actually, I think you’re just in time to hear Aislinn agree to be my wife.” His head swivels back to me. “Yes?”
“Yes,” I repeat, a laugh breaking free from the tightness in my chest. “Yes.”
Damon pulls me into his arms. Our lips meet just as the quiet click of the door signals that we’re alone again.
And then he drops to his knees at my feet, his head pushing between my thighs. My shirt is pushed up, my thong no defense against Damon’s strong fingers. The flimsy lace rips in two just a moment before his thick tongue laves my already damp folds.
I steady myself on the desk behind me, my head dropping back as an exultant sigh shudders from my chest. Damon’s wide palms support my ass, his thumbs holding me apart so that I am completely exposed.
That’s what I am. With Damon, I am exposed. Vulnerable.
My inhibitions swept entirely aside.
And yet, entirely content in his arms.
Each pass of his tongue, each suck of my clit, each hungry grunt as Damon devours the most intimate part of me unravels another layer of my control.
Until there is none left and I can only gasp and tremble, lost to this moment.
Lost to this man.
26
I regret making the call as soon as I hear my father’s voice. “Hey, Dad,” I begin.
“Aislinn?” He says my name like a question. “Where are you?”
“I’m h—I’m with King right now, at his place.”
He grunts. “You’re causing an awful lot of trouble for me lately.”
I make a conscious decision to ignore his comment. “I have news. Damon and I are getting married.”
“What?”
“Damon and I—”
“Jesus Christ, I heard what you said. The answer is no, goddamn it. I have plans for you and they don’t include King.”
I didn’t call to ask my father’s permission, but that doesn’t make his refusal to give it any less hurtful. “We’re getting married.” My tone is quiet but firm. “Today, actually.”
“Did you not hear me? I said no. Forget it.”
“I heard you, but this is my choice. Damon is my choice.”
There is a pause, a long one. And then, “You ungrateful bitch. I could have left you and your mother on the street twenty years ago. But I didn’t, and this is how you repay me?”
My eyes flick to Damon’s. His face is impassive, but my father is speaking so loudly I know he can hear every word. He holds out his hand for the phone, and I consider giving it to him. But ultimately, this exchange isn’t about the man I’ve agreed to marry.
This is a conversation meant for two people. My father, a man so blinded by greed and betrayal he is incapable of unconditional love. And me, a daughter who must finally face the truth.
“I’m sorry you feel that way. Please give my love to—”
“Your mother?” His wry chuckle grates on my ears. “I should have known you would fall for a criminal. Like mother like daughter.”
The call is dropped and I blow out a weary sigh, handing Damon his phone. “He’s not coming.”
I know not to bother calling Marisol. I am certain my father is already on the line with her, warning her against bringing my mother here, even if she was having a rare good day.