by Lena Black
Chapter Twenty
Deus Ex Machina
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I grumble, furious.
“You wouldn’t let me see you in the office, and I have to speak with you.” Her large blue eyes search mine, desperation beaming from them. She seems different. I can’t put my finger on it, but something about her has changed.
My cool gaze remains on her as we ride up to the top floor.
“What could you and I have to talk about?”
“More than you know,” she murmurs under her breath. “Please give me a chance to speak with you. If you don’t like what I have to say, you’ll never see me again. I promise.”
The pleading look in her eyes breaks me down.
“Five minutes. But if there’s any hint of bullshit, I’ll throw you out. Understood?”
“Understood.” She nods her head vigorously. “Thank you, Damian.”
The doors open and I gesture for her to exit first, untrusting of having her behind me. She steps out and I follow her to the cherry wood door, unlocking it with one eye still on her. I step inside, holding the door open for her as she steps through, studying the place with affection.
“I remember when you got this place.” She sighs before walking into the sitting room, decorated with antique furniture and dark woods, and takes a seat on the couch.
I remember that day, too. We’d christened the place that evening, with an alcohol-fueled night of depraved passion.
“Would you like a drink?” I offer, but she shakes her head in rejection.
“No, thank you. I don’t drink anymore.”
I tilt my head to the side. “Why is that?”
“It’s part of the reason I’ve come here today.” She inhales sharply. “After you fired me and kicked me out, I made some changes in my life.”
“Such as?”
“I checked myself into rehab.”
“What for?”
“Pills, but I’m staying away from everything. I’ve been addicted to pills longer than I can remember. Since my modeling days, uppers, downers, diet pills, and everything in between. I was taking handfuls a day. It’s no excuse for everything I’ve done, nothing will ever excuse the horrible things I did, but I’m here to apologize, to clean my slate.”
“I had no idea, Liv.” I’m stunned that I hadn’t noticed it with all the time we’ve spent together. I pride myself on my eye for detail, reading hints and signs. But I was blind to her. I was always blind when it came to Olivia.
“I know. No one knew. I kept it hidden really well.” She lowers her head, ashamed of her secret. “I’m sorry for everything I’d put you through, Damian. I took advantage of you, of your weaknesses. I can never take back what I did to you.”
“You realize now it was wrong?”
“Yes, it truly was. You were young, broken, my brother. I know we didn’t know each other that way, but I should have been a sister to you. I’d like to blame it on the drugs, but that would be a cop out.”
“Thank you, Olivia. But, it wasn’t all your fault. Once I was old enough, I should have stopped it.”
“It’s all you knew, Damian. How could you know it was wrong? I was the adult. I should’ve known better. I’m truly sorry for all I did to you—and Gabrielle. She didn’t deserve the way I’d treated her either.”
I’ve never seen her so vulnerable, so exposed before. It’s almost alarming.
“Why do I get the feeling this isn’t the only reason you’re here?”
“Because it’s not. I needed you to understand how sorry I am first. Before…” She trials off, shifting her head to the side.
“What is it, Liv?” I feel my stomach churn.
“I came here determined to tell you. But, looking at you right now, I don’t know if I have the strength.”
“What’s wrong? Please, you have to tell me.”
“The night you discovered Dante and I, I thought I would die. I was so humiliated I broke it off with him.”
“Look, what you did with him is your busi…”
“Damian, please, let me speak. He was enraged. I know he attacked Elle, and I’m responsible for that.”
“What do you mean?” My jaw clenches.
“I may have told him you were out of town for work that day.”
“How could you do that?!” I leap from the couch, glaring down at her with disgust. I’m ready to throw her out when I spot the remorse on her face, causing me to pause. She grabs onto my hand, looking up at me with pleading eyes.
“I was fucked up.” Holding tightly onto my hand, she pulls me back down next to her. “I’m so sorry, Damian. I know I was a horrible person. I know I don’t deserve forgiveness from you or Elle or our family, but I need to clear the air. I have to take this step.”
“I can’t believe you did that.” I shake my head, confounded by the whole situation.
Can I trust her?
Does she have ulterior motives for all this?
Why would she expose herself this way if she did?
“I know. It’s something, one of many things, I’m going to have to live with the rest of my life. I deserve to.” She inhales. “But, there’s more.”
“What else could there possibly be?”
“Dante and Vanessa.”
“I already know about them, Liv. That’s old news…You haven’t been helping him, have you?”
“No, no, I haven’t. I haven’t spoken or seen him since I broke it off. However, when I did, he confessed some things in a fit of rage. Things I feel you have a right to know about.” She pauses.
“Well?”
“He told me about how infatuated he is with you, how much he loves taking what’s yours. I always knew he was. I think that’s why he wanted me.”
“Did he know about us?”
She nods her head softly. “He saw us once. Anyway, he went on and on about always getting what he wants and then he mentioned how he’d done it before and he’d do it again.” Elle. “I didn’t understand what he’d meant. Then he proceeded to tell me about Vanessa…”
“What about her?”
“He said he’d stolen her from right under your nose, that you hadn’t loved her or deserved her. She fucked him in your bed.”
“I suppose I had suspected they had history, but I didn’t think she’d ever cheat on me.” Then it hits me. “When did this affair occur?”
She shifts her line of sight downward, tucking her chestnut hair behind her ear. “It started a few months before she became pregnant.”
My heart stops and my stomach creeps up into my throat, forming a suffocating lump.
“What are you saying, Olivia?”
“She isn’t your daughter, Damian. She belongs to Dante.”
I can’t believe what I’ve just heard. It hits me like a punch to the abdomen, knocking the wind right out of me. Then, something dawns on me. She said, ‘She isn’t your daughter, Damian. She belongs to Dante. She didn’t say, wasn’t or belonged.
“Why are you talking about her in the present? Why did you say that as if she were still alive?”
“Damian, she is alive.”
Elle
Mmmm. The water feels nice, I think to myself as I soak in the bath, limp and content in its liquid warmth. I take the rare moment of peace to reminisce about everything that has occurred in the last few months, all the challenges and changes we’ve endured. It feels like we’ve finally made it over a hump and I can breathe.
I can’t wait for Hunt to come home. I cooked all afternoon, making sure everything would be perfect. We’ve had so little down time together lately.
I shut my eyes and sigh, allowing the water to carry my body, the pleasant thoughts of what I have planned for us.
When I open my eyes, Hunt stands over me, watching me with the saddest look on his face. He looks defeated, beaten down. His emerald eyes devoid of any clue as to what he could be thinking, feeling.
“Hunt, baby, what’s wrong?” I rise and climb out of the tub,
but he just stares into the water of the tub. “Hunt, please talk to me.”
When he doesn’t move, I place both hands on the sides of his face, forcing him to look at me. “What’s the matter, slick?”
He takes in a deep breath and closes his eyes. “She’s alive,” he murmurs. “She lied to me. She lied. She’s alive.”
“I don’t understand. Who’s alive? Who lied, Damian?” I sweep my thumb over his eyebrow, attempting to coax him out of this trance he seems to be under. He looks like his whole world has just been turned upside down.
“She’s alive,” he says again, unable to process more than this thought. I need to be here for him, the way he’s been here for me during the times I’ve fallen apart. But how? How can I get him out of this place? How do I get to him when he’s lost within himself?
“Come,” I order, taking his hand and lead him out of the bathroom. He follows me mindlessly downstairs, staring off into a place I can’t see, I can’t get to him.
I sit him on the couch in the main space and head into the kitchen to make a strong drink, bringing it back out to him. He hadn’t moved, his hands resting at his sides on the couch, palms up. His shoulders are slouching and his head rests on the back of the couch, eyes shut.
“Here you go.” I place the drink in his hand and he mechanically raises the glass, places it to his lips, and takes a sip. I sit beside him, studying him carefully, waiting for even the slightest sign of life in his eyes. He just drinks until he finishes the golden contents of his glass, setting it down on the ground in front of the couch. He sits back, staring out the window at the fog encasing Artemis, the faint sounding of the foghorn on the bridge crying from the mist. It’s as if we’re completely disconnected from the world or living a dream where the edges of our minds blur.
He glances over at me, his arms encircling my waist and yanking me onto his lap. He buries his face in my neck.
After about fifteen minutes of silence, he says with a tremble in his voice, “Vanessa lied to me about the baby.”
“What are you saying, Hunt?”
“She gave birth while I was away on a business trip. But she had told me the baby died.”
“Oh, my god,” I gasp.
“The baby wasn’t mine. Turns out she told me it was with hopes of keeping me around. She figured out I was ready to leave her, and when she got knocked up, she used it to her advantage.”
“If it isn’t your baby, whose was it?”
“Dante’s.”
“Dant…Oh, Hunt, no,” I mutter, stunned.
I throw my arms about him, holding him to me. Then I remember what he mumbled, ‘She’s alive’.
“Damian, who’s alive?”
“The child, she’s alive.”
“How do you know?”
He lowers his head, making it hard to see his eyes. “Olivia told me.”
“Olivia? You saw Olivia?”
I feel hurt for a moment, but it goes away. I trust him, and I know he’d never allow anything that would cause me pause or concern when it comes to her. Besides, with the current situation at hand, we have bigger things on our minds than petty bullshit.
“So, if she’s alive, where is she?”
He looks into my eyes, the pain radiating from within his shattering my heart into a million pieces. He only says one word, “Catlin.”
“Catlin…? Catlin is Dante and Vanessa’s daughter?!” He nods his head once. “Fuck, Damian.” Not the most becoming thing I could’ve said, but my brain is paralyzed from the blow. “You must be torn up.”
I kiss his cheek then nuzzle mine against it. He eases, hugging me closer to him.
“I have to head north to see Beverly, find out why she never told me.”
“Did Olivia say she knows?”
“No, that’s why I’m going to see her.” He shifts me off his lap, sets me on the couch, and stands up, walking toward the stairs. “Tonight.”
“I’m coming with you.” I leap to my feet, rushing after him up the stairs.
“No, angel. I want you to stay here. Sloan may need you. Someone should stay to help her if she does.”
He enters our bedroom and heads for the closet, coming back out with a small suitcase. I stand by the bed, watching him walk back and forth bringing clothes out and shoving them into the bag carelessly.
“We can have Liam and Jules stay with her while we’re away. It should only be overnight anyway. And if she needs us or goes into labor or whatever, they can call us to come back down sooner.”
“Gabrielle…”
I cross my arms and glare at him. “No, Damian, don’t argue with me. I’m going to be there to support you. And, truthfully, I’m safest with you.”
I’m tired of him always running things. I get he’s Dominant, but he has to learn to let me make up my own mind on things. Even if he means well.
He stops to think for a moment and then nods his head. “Alright, we leave tonight and then we’ll come back first thing tomorrow morning.”
We packed and then gave Liam and Jules the details, leaving Sloan with them at Liam’s place where she could be watched after. I left the dinner I had made for Hunt with them, figuring someone should enjoy the fruits of my labor. We told them we would be back by tomorrow evening at the latest and hit the road by eight.
As we drive north, I notice he’s tense, which I’d expect nothing less. I select a playlist I put together for him, for times when he’s under stress. Music always seems to work for him. He connects with it. He says, ‘It inspires me’. God only knows what it ‘inspires’, but it soothes him, suppresses his thoughts.
I put on Laura Welsh’s Hardest Part and roll the windows down, allowing the cool night air to sweep over us. The smell of the sea rides on its back, filling our lungs. His hand rests on the middle console, slowly uncoiling from its fisted state, and I take it, interlocking our fingers. He melts back into his seat, his grip on the wheel slackening a bit.
“Thank you, Elle,” he utters, the tension from his voice gone.
“For what, slick?”
“For everything.” He brings the back of my hand to his lips, kissing it tenderly. “For coming with me, for supporting me through this, for loving me. I don’t know where I’d be without you by my side.”
“Where else would I be?” I rub my thumb against his knuckle, soothing him. “Whatever happens, I’ll always be here.”
We make it to his aunt’s bed & breakfast around ten, as rain starts to pour down, and grab our bags out of the back. Walking up the steps of the old Victorian, the front door swings open and Beverly steps out, an alarmed look on her face. She walks onto the porch, clutching her vibrant-hued kimono.
“Damian? Ellie? What are you two doing here at this hour? Is everything alright?”
“No, Bee, it’s not,” Hunt says stiffly. “May we come in and speak with you?”
“Sure, of course.” She gestures her hand toward the open door. “Come in, please.”
She gives us both quick hugs before following us inside. Once we’ve set our bags down and taken off our coats, she leads us into the kitchen, making a pot of coffee to warm us up. We sit around the table, sipping our hot beverages in silence for a few moments.
Finally, Hunt speaks, breaking the tension, “Olivia came to me today. She told me some interesting facts about Dante and Vanessa.” He pauses, taking a moment to find the words he wants to say. I can see it written on his chiseled face. “Do you remember when Vanessa miscarried?”
“Yes. How could I forget? It was such a tragic loss.”
He nods his head in agreement. “Yes, well, as it turns out, she hadn’t lost the baby. And on top of all that, it was never mine to begin with.”
“Damian, no.” She gasps, placing her hand over her heart. “My god. Well, what happened to the child?”
“She’s sleeping upstairs, Beverly. I know Catlin isn’t yours.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“That innocent little girl you’ve b
een raising, that is Dante and Vanessa’s daughter. Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”
“Damian, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Is she yours, Beverly? Did you give birth to Catlin? You weren’t around for a few years. I know you had problems with my mother during that time, and we heard nothing of an actual pregnancy. You just showed up one day after your husband died with a child on your arm.” He takes a calming breath. “So, I will ask you one more time. Is Catlin genetically linked to you?”
Her eyes rapidly dart between us before falling to her lap.
“No,” she mumbles.
“That’s what I thought.”
She looks back up at him with a pleading gleam. “But I had no idea she belonged to him. I found her on my doorstep one day, abandoned. I didn’t know. I didn’t know.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“I feel in love with her. I couldn’t let anyone take her from me.” She reaches for his hands resting on the table, grasping them frantically. “Please, don’t take her from me.”
Disgust seems to wash over him. “I would never do that to you, to Catlin. I couldn’t take her away from a loving home. I love that little girl. I loved her when she was still in her mother’s womb, when I thought…she was mine. The situation hasn’t changed that. I just needed to know where you stood with everything.”
“Kiddo, I’d rather die than ever betray you, you have to know that. You’ve been so good to Catlin and I. She adores you. I’ve never seen her react to anyone the way she does with you.”
“I know.” He secures his grip on her small hands, cradling them in his.
“What do we do?” she asks, tilting her head down, defeated.
“We catch Dante and take care of him. As far as Catlin is involved, we do nothing. She is your daughter now. But we have to keep an eye on her. I don’t want him getting any ideas about coming back and taking what’s his.” He glimpses at me out of the corner of his eye, showing me his fearfulness for my safety as well. “He has a tendency to do that.”