The Last Girl (Sand & Fog #7)

by Susan Ward

  “I consider myself family,” Cody mumbled as he climbed from his chair. My sisters watched him, bewildered, because he was only one who stood for Damon. Bodyguards knew all the correct protocol for everything.

  “Please, no bother for me,” Damon said smoothly, giving me my glass before crossing toward the row of spa chairs with a hand extended. “How do you do? I’m Damon Saxe.”

  “Cody Warrick,” he replied, giving a firm pump to their hands. “I’m Khloe’s bodyguard and oldest friend, Your Highness.”

  “Just Damon, please.”

  “Of course, sir...ah...Damon.”

  Damon smiled his panty-dropping smirk and proceeded to Avery. “Damon Saxe.”

  “I’m Avery Harte. Ethan’s girlfriend.”

  “Ah, delightful chap. Had dinner with him at The Cock Yard with Alan.”

  “Yes, Ethan mentioned it after he sobered up.”

  When he got to Krystal, he took her hand and gave it an affectionate peck on the fingers. “Good to see you again, Fiona.”

  Jeez, Louise, my sister blushed. “That was so long ago, Damon. I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who remembers that ballet.”

  Damon laughed affably. “You were brilliant. Performances like that are remembered forever.”

  When Damon moved on to Kaley, behind his back Cody fanned himself and mouthed at me, “Very hot.”

  My sister leaned forward, offering her hand. “I’m Kaley Rowan. Nice to meet you, Damon.”

  “The pleasure’s mine. I’ve seen all your documentaries. Brilliant work.” Smiling, he scanned the room and took one step back. “I should get out of your way and let you get on with it.”

  “No. Stay. Hang out. Have your wine,” Cody suggested. “Have a pedi. I did.”

  Damon laughed smoothly. “I just might. Are you leaving, Khloe? Or are you staying?”

  I could feel everyone’s stare on me. “Leaving.”

  After he made a polite round of goodbyes, he placed his hand on the small of my back and guided me out the door. Once we were in the hallway, he groaned and his posture slouched a bit. “I really am sorry. If I’d known you weren’t alone I wouldn’t have intruded.”

  He looked so intensely apologetic. “It’s no big deal. It’s just my sisters and Cody.”

  “What about the manicurists? I assured you I’d do nothing to compromise your privacy, and there I pop up with a glass of wine for you calling you my cheeky girl.”

  “Damon, it’s cool. The manicurists have been with the family forever. They’re family to us. Consider this house as private as Windsor Castle. Nothing gets out of these walls. The press can’t even get drones with a camera over the yard. My dad hasn’t had a security breach yet.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “That would make it better than Windsor Castle. The tabloids get stuff from within all the time.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. But it’s usually twisted into rubbish by the time it’s in print.”

  He moved toward the stairs and I gestured at the elevator then hit the call button. I leaned back against the wall. “What kind of rubbish? Anything juicy about you?”

  He grinned. “I refuse to credit anything you might have read about me with a correction.”

  I pouted. “You’re no fun.”

  “No, I’m a smart man. If you deny that inevitably leads to confirming and I don’t want to do that.”

  “That’s hardly fair. You know my baggage.”

  The way his eyes studied me consumed me. “Not all of it.”

  “I think it’s better that way.”

  We were so close we wouldn’t have had to move much to kiss. “You’ll tell me everything someday. I’m certain of it.”

  Damon’s free hand slipped around my neck before he captured my mouth in a searing kiss. Everything inside me screamed in relief as I parted my lips so he could fill my mouth with his tongue. His hand drifted down the side of my neck to my shoulder as he eased his body into me.

  “Khloe,” he murmured as his mouth wandered across my cheek. It was a sweet, slow, gentle assault. Intoxicating and impossible to defend against. When he pulled back his face was flushed and his breathing was coming in spurts. “It would devastate me to ever hurt you, KK. You’re very...”

  The elevator doors opened and he stepped back, leaving me hanging. Instead of finishing his thought, he took my hand, moved me into the elevator, and said, “I’ll meet you downstairs, Khloe. I think I should take the stairs. I could use some exercise.”

  Then the doors closed between us. When they opened, Damon wasn’t there. He should have beaten me to the ground floor. I looked left and right. The hallways were empty.

  I went into the kitchen and only my mom was there. She was busy at the counter, tossing a salad.

  “Did you have a good time with your sisters, baby girl?”

  I sank down on a stool at the center island. “Yeah, it was fun.”

  “Nice color.” She nodded toward my fingers.

  I ran my finger along the rim of my wineglass as I cast a fast glance out onto the patio to see if Damon was there.

  “You OK?”

  I shifted my gaze back to my mother. “What’s up with you being cool about me drinking wine? First on the pier, then you send Damon up with a glass for me.”

  Chrissie shrugged. “I always like wine when I get a pedi.”

  “Yeah, but you never let me have any without an argument.”

  “Well, there’s a first for everything, Khloe. Sometimes it takes a while for me to get things. The doctor said you could have wine. I’m trying to be more loose and fun. You give an inch; I give an inch. Then we have something better for both of us, I think. Just because I’ve been a mother for over forty years doesn’t mean I can’t evolve and try to be the best mother I can.”

  I came around the counter and kissed her cheek. “You’re already the best, Mom. You’ve given me everything. You’re the best mom there is.”

  THE BEST MOM THERE is seated Damon half a table away from me between Krystal and Kaley. Because my sisters stayed for dinner we had Mexican food on the patio. It was such a boisterous gathering I didn’t get a chance to follow up with Damon on what he almost said.

  Dinner rolled into watching the sunset from the table, to after-dinner drinks and more talking. It was nearly midnight and I didn’t think I’d be walking with Damon later.

  As everyone moved to the outdoor sofas near the firepits to continue talking, I quietly slipped away to my room. I flopped back on my bed and stared at the ceiling. After debating with myself longer than was reasonable, I fished my phone out of my pocket.

  Cheeky Girl: I’m very what, Damon?

  I stared at the screen and there were no bouncing bubbles. I waited ten minutes then tossed my phone aside and got dressed for bed.

  LIGHT ENTERED MY ROOM, coaxing me from sleep, but I ignored it. I burrowed deeper into my bed and turned my head in the other direction. My mattress dipped with a squeak, and fingers lightly poked my shoulder.

  “Khloe,” I heard in a soft, husky voice.

  Then something was on my back, shaking me. I rolled over and my stomach dropped. Crouched down next to the bed was Damon. My first thought was how could anyone look as good as Damon? His unruly chestnut waves were mussed as though he’d just climbed from bed himself. The soft light adored his face, and I could see nearly all of him. His t-shirt and shorts hugged his muscled frame well enough I could imagine what was beneath them and not visible.

  I could have gazed at him all night—but?

  “What are you doing in my bedroom?”

  “Can we talk?”

  “Now?” I rummaged on the night table for my phone to check the time. “Damon, it’s 2:00 a.m.”

  “This can’t wait for morning.” He paused and frowned. “So I decided not to wait.”

  I sat up in bed and crossed my arms. “Well, you were able to wait after I texted you.”

  “Sorry,” he whispered, looking uncomfortable. “That
’s part of why I’m here.”

  Part of why he was here? I waved a hand in front of me as if to say get on with it.

  Damon pointed to the sitting area of my room with its comfy sectional couch and chair. “Do you mind if we talk over there?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Please?”

  Please.

  “Is this going to take long, Damon?”

  “Not very.”

  I tossed back my blankets and waited until he rose and stepped back before I climbed out of bed. I ran my fingers through my hair to shake out my curls.

  “I’ve got a bar in here. Do you want a drink?”

  His brows hitched up. “A drink would be nice. Should I prepare you one?”

  “No, it will interfere with my sleep once I get back to it.” I pointed at the antique armoire. “The bar’s in there.”

  I sank down on the sectional, smack-dab in the middle.

  His back toward me, he fixed his drink. “I’m sorry I ignored you earlier.”

  “Well, that’s novel. A guy apologizing and admitting when he’s ignored you. Like we can’t figure it out unless you tell us. Apology accepted. Crisis over. You can go now.”

  The sound of a glass hitting wood made me jump. He’d set down his drink too heavily on the bar and it sloshed ice and scotch everywhere. “Damn it, Khloe. Would you please not do that anymore?”

  “Do what?” My confusion was obvious.

  “Spin me with nonsense.” When he turned to face me, I could see how serious he was. “You want me to believe nothing matters to you. That Zane never mattered to you. That I don’t matter to you. That everything is beneath you. You’re in control of everything. But you’re not. You’re a very remarkable, somewhat fragile, extremely beautiful and afraid girl, spinning nonsense 24/7 so no one can see it.”

  I was sure my face was puce by the time he finished. “I am not.”

  His eyes shone with incredulity. “You do it with everyone, not just me. It hurts your family. Yet you don’t see it. I want to know why you behave that way.”

  “You can want anything you want, but—”

  “There. That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

  I’m sure my face turned a few shades darker.

  “Get out.”

  “No.” His voice rose through the utterance.

  I sprang to my feet. “No?”

  “I asked a question. I expect it to be answered,” he said quietly, his amber eyes wide and determined.

  “I don’t remember the question.”

  “Yes, you do. Sit, Khloe. Now. And just talk to me, really talk, for a change. I followed you from Paris to get to know you. I intend to. Talk. I don’t care what about. Just something real to you. Something that matters. Something that isn’t flirt-speak or gibberish.”

  We warred with our eyes—him determined, me shaking in my cheetah print—then I slowly sank down on the cushions.

  “Thank you.” Damon crossed the room and settled on the sectional, leaning against the arm to face me.

  I scooted away from him. “If I tell you something personal will you go?”

  “No. I’ll tell you something personal, and we’ll keep swapping back and forth until I feel comfortable to answer your text.” He crossed his arms and an I’m waiting sort of smile crossed his lips.

  “Something personal. Something personal,” I mumbled staring up at the ceiling for inspiration. I needed something that would make this end fast. Something that’d make Damon go and regret having started this. “Okay. Here’s something no one knows about me. My mom keeps all these journals. She has since she was a little girl. She writes thoughts in them, bits of nothing, things she sometimes uses for song lyrics. I used to sneak into her room and read them. Every entry is dated. So I’d read the journal that would make her whatever age I was. One year I flipped through the pages to read something she’d written at my age. It was some sort of a list. ‘I don’t want anyone to love me. I don’t want anyone to miss me. I don’t want anyone to care. I don’t want anyone to remember me.’ It frightened me, Damon, because I understood the emotion behind those words and I thought I was going to lose my mother. After that, I never went into my mom’s room again to read another journal.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

  I shrugged, turning my head as I tried not to show the memory still brought tears to my eyes. “The funny thing is it wasn’t even my mom’s thought. It was my grandma Lena’s, from a letter she left before she died. I think Mom just wrote it down to try to understand it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Not spinning.” His tone changed to soft and sensual.

  My breath hitched. “Now you owe me something personal. Or you can leave. You’ve proved your point. There’s no reason to belabor this.”

  “Belabor? Hardly. It’s rare to find someone I can be completely forthright with. I think that’s true for you, too. It’s a luxury we shouldn’t squander.”

  He set down his drink, and my heart sank, even though I should have wanted him to leave.

  “My father didn’t cry when my mother died,” Damon murmured, inflectionless. “For a long time I hated him for it. Most everything I did for many years was because I hated him. And I realized I was ruining my own life hating a man who didn’t care.”

  “He does care, Damon. Maybe he just doesn’t show it.”

  “Either way, it doesn’t matter. Our relationships are more businesslike than familial. It’s not like it is here with your family.”

  He inhaled sharply, struggling not to let the lines of his face alert me, but I could feel his hurt.

  “I’m ashamed I snap at my parents when I shouldn’t. They’re wonderful people.”

  “I don’t remember anyone but my family being mad at me. It makes it hard to know who really likes you. Until you.”

  He gazed down at me, amused yet puzzled.

  “Don’t leave me hanging. Does that mean I like you or I don’t?” I asked.

  “You tell me. It’s your turn.”

  A flippant remark came to my head, but it was the truth that came out of my mouth. “When I stepped into my suite in Paris, I thought you were the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. That’s why I was rude to you.”

  “That works,” he said with a self-deprecating smile. He scooted around until he was sitting closer to me. His sudden proximity made my blood sing as it coursed through my body. “When you stepped into your room in Paris, I knew instantly. Like that.” He snapped. “You were someone I had to know.”

  “Why would you want to know me?”

  Damon ran a finger along my shoulder and up to the base of my ear. “You’re very remarkable. In every way. Even in how you show only what you want to show, to everyone, so we’re all held captive, wanting to know who Khloe is.”

  Slowly he pulled back and stood. “And that’s what I was going to say before the lift arrived. You’re very remarkable. The kind of girl a man marries. But you don’t see yourself as that. I don’t understand why. And someday I hope you see you the way I do.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Arrogant Prince: You skipped breakfast. Are you hiding from me after my boorish behavior last night? No need to hide from me when others are present. I’m tame when your parents are with us.

  Cheeky Girl: ***rolls eyes*** You’re tame when we’re alone. I can handle you, no problem. And you weren’t boorish. It was more like...never mind. I’m sleep-deprived. Need I say more?

  Arrogant Prince: Poor, lovely KK. Didn’t get her 8 hours of beauty rest. Not that you need it...

  Cheeky Girl: Couldn’t prove that today.

  Arrogant Prince: Would you like company? I could bring elevenses to you.

  Cheeky Girl: Not up for tea and visitors.

  Arrogant Prince: I’ve been told I’m very good company.

  Cheeky Girl: By who?

  Arrogant Prince: Do you want to FaceTime? I prefer it to texting.

  Che
eky Girl: No. And nice way of dodging the question.

  Arrogant Prince: My mum thought I was good company. Does that count?

  Cheeky Girl: LOL. NO! Moms are required to say things like that.

  Arrogant Prince: You think I’m good company. Does that count?

  Cheeky Girl: I never said that.

  Arrogant Prince: You didn’t have to. Some things a guy just knows.

  Cheeky Girl: Go away. Stop interrupting my sleep again. I’m exhausted.

  I DRIFTED BACK TO SLEEP. Two hours later, the trill of a notification woke me. When I swiped open my phone, I found Damon had continued our chat without me.

  Arrogant Prince: Were you in love with Zane?

  Cheeky Girl: Jeez, Louise, like to pry much?

  Arrogant Prince: Thank you for answering the question after one attempt.

  Cheeky Girl: I DIDN’T ANSWER!

  Arrogant Prince: Indeed you did. You weren’t in love with him.

  Cheeky Girl: Have you ever been in love?

  Arrogant Prince: Yes.

  Cheeky Girl: What happened?

  Arrogant Prince: I couldn’t marry her. I was very young. It wasn’t allowed. I can’t marry without my father’s consent. He said no.

  Cheeky Girl: Why?

  Arrogant Prince: I was very young.

  Cheeky Girl: Where is she?

  Arrogant Prince: With another guy. Happier than she would have been with me.

  My bedroom door opened, and I hid my phone. “Did you want something, Mom?’

  Chrissie carried a thermometer and she tapped a button on it. “You’ve been excessively tired this week. I should take you temperature then call Dr. Hern.”

  “Mom, it’s nothing. I don’t have a fever. I sleep a lot after the treatments. You know that. It doesn’t mean anything.”