by Sadie Grubor
Skimming the article, I learn Damon stepped in — to the shock of the investment world. The article made note of his educational background being in medicine, like his father.
The next article to catch my attention is full of accolades for Damon Knyght. One quote sticking out among the rest:
"Mr. Knyght's successes come as no surprise to the board. He worked alongside his mother from child to young adult. And while Ms. Knyght is no longer in the office, she is clearly a great resource."
"Okay, impressive, but not what I'm looking for. Come on, Google, don't let me down now." I tap the keyboard and click to the next page of online articles. I scroll. "What?" I click an article that has my breath and heart rate increasing.
TRAGEDY STRIKES KNYGHT FAMILY
'Yesterday evening, the well-known Knyght family suffered a devastating loss. Rebecca Knyght, wife to Damon Knyght, CEO of B.I.G., and their young son, were in a devastating car accident. Police have determined that the driver, Rebecca Knyght, swerved for unknown reasons, causing her to lose control of the vehicle. The car spun twice before wrapping around an oncoming car. The force of the oncoming vehicle’s impact propelled the wreckage into another car parked on the side of the road.
The police have disclosed the presence of a child in the car. However, due to the child being a minor, no name has officially been released. We can only assume it was Mr. and Mrs. Knyght’s two-year-old son, Damon Knyght II.
No comment is available from the family at this time. Our deepest sympathies and condolences to the Knyght family during this tragedy.'
I gasp for air, having held my breath while reading without realizing it. I sit back and darkness descends as my lids cover my eyes. What do I even say or do with this information? It's a horrible loss for him and his family, but it doesn't make us the replacement.
With another deep breath, I lean back toward the computer.
KNYGHT FAMILY TRAGEDY CONTINUES
'UPDATE: It has been confirmed that Mrs. Rebecca Knyght and Damon Knyght II were both killed in the shocking accident on Friday evening. Speculation has spread as to the reasons Mrs. Knyght lost control of her vehicle, but no clear or solid evidence is available at this time. We send our condolences in this family's time of loss.'
Wiping away a stray tear, I sit back with my eyes closed once more. He lost his family…his child. It was almost three years ago, given the date of the article. It's horrible.
I glance at Alex and my chest aches. I couldn't imagine losing him, but I do know a sense of the loss Damon felt. My mind wanders to Isaac and then to our unborn child.
Shaking the thoughts from my head, I push back from the desk and walk over to Alex. Swinging him into my arms, I take a breath before opening the bedroom door and emerging.
"You hungry, buddy?" I ask, keeping myself distracted with Alex and not the man lingering somewhere in my apartment. "What do you want to eat, huh?"
Peeking around the corner at the end of the hallway, I find Damon laying on his back with his arm over his face, his chest steadily rising and falling. He's asleep.
As quietly as possible, I set Alex down and start cleaning the cookie mess from his tray. A few minutes later, I return the tray, but Alex isn't on the floor where I left him. With a scan of the room, I see him.
"Alex," I whisper-shout, hurrying to stop him before he reaches Damon.
Two steps from reaching him and everything feels like it moved in slow motion. Alex brings both hands over his head and drops them with a smack onto Damon's chest. Damon jerks up to sitting just as I grab Alex into my arms.
"Wow, little guy, you're pretty strong." Damon rubs his chest, giving Alex a sleepy smile before focusing on me. "You finally decided to come out?"
Knowing it wasn't really a question, I walk Alex back to his chair and slip him inside. I buckle the belt around him and lock his tray.
"Are you ready to talk to me?"
"Nope," I quip, keeping my back to him. "We can talk later. After Alex is in bed." I look over my shoulder and narrow my eyes at him. "So he isn't caught in the middle of another tense situation."
Guilt flashes over Damon's face for the briefest moment.
"I'm sorry about that," he sighs.
I say nothing. Instead, I turn back to the kitchen counter and begin dinner.
With Alex fed, I clean him off and take him to get pajamas. Damon keeps out of my personal space, but shadows my every step. It's annoying, but I say nothing.
"Momma," Alex calls.
"What little man?" I focus on him with a smile.
"Down." He struggles against my attempts to get his shirt over his head. I tickle under his arms until he surrenders long enough for me to finish.
Done dressing him, I let him down. He walks straight to his blocks.
"Blocks." He drags the basket and dumps the colored squares onto the floor.
Crouching next to him, we begin building a tower. I can feel Damon lingering behind us and his sudden move to sit opposite us gets both Alex and my attention. Alex's attention returns to the blocks before mine and he knocks the tower down.
"Hey," I tease and pout. Alex giggles.
"Ghen!" he exclaims.
I reach for a block at my knee and my fingers briefly brush Damon's. Warmth spreads across my hand and I pull back. Looking up at him, Damon is focused on building a block tower. I glance to Alex who is watching Damon curiously, but it doesn't take long for a smile to brighten his little face.
Bouncing in anticipation, he scoots closer to Damon's tower and squeals when he sees me start another tower, too.
Soon, Alex pushes Damon's blocks over with a large laugh and then moves on to mine.
"That's not very nice."
I tickle him and he laughs, collapsing to the floor and squirming.
From the corner of my eye, I see Damon sitting stoic, watching.
Alex yawns as we put the blocks back into the basket. With Damon still observing, I tuck Alex into bed, read him a quick story, and turn on the crib toy that usually lulls him to sleep. After one kiss to his forehead, I walk out of this room.
Needing a drink before starting this conversation with my 'stalker', I go to the kitchen.
"Are we going to talk, Olivia?" His voice is just behind me.
I nod without looking back at him. Honestly, I'm procrastinating as much as possible. I don't want to bring up the things I learned from the internet, but he is leaving me no choice.
With a glass of ice water in hand, I sit in a chair across from the couch.
"Well, then—"
"Damon," I cut him off, "I'm going to attempt to talk calmly, but if you start any of that we’re meant to be or connected bullshit, I will lose my mind."
He smiles crookedly. "As you wish."
"What is it you really want from me?" My voice sounds flat. I'm exhausted but determined.
"I told you what I want."
"Yes, you say you want me, but what exactly are you expecting from me?"
"To be my wife. For both of you to be my family."
When I open my mouth to speak, he puts a hand up to stop me.
"I know this situation is unusual, but I can't walk away. I need you."
"Okay, first of all, unusual is not the right word. This is downright insane with a sprinkle of creepy." I raise my brows at him. "Please tell me you understand that?"
He only sighs, but I don't really want an answer anyway.
"You don't know me, Damon. You can't possibly think you need me."
It's my turn to put my hand up to stop his argument.
"I have my own life, here, in Pittsburgh. You have your life in New York. I won't even consider leaving my life behind."
His eyes harden. A chill straightens my spine.
"I don't know you, either. I know what you've said, and what you've done so far." I shake my head. "You've basically stalked me and forced me into this situation."
His eyes are still hard and intense, but I don't back down.
"My
insemination was confidential. There is a privacy act. How did you really find me?"
A small smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth.
"You know how I found you." He snorts. "I have money, Olivia. Things, options, are available to me."
"I can't believe you." I take a long drink from my glass. "Okay, you said there were others. What exactly does that mean?"
He clears his throat.
"The clinic mixed up my file number with an anonymous donor. There were three others involved in the mix up, but only your insemination resulted in a pregnancy."
"You tracked them all down?" I choke out.
He nods.
"I'm just the lucky one, I guess." With a huff, I slouch back into the chair.
"I only had to gain access to the full records to see that those women did not conceive." He waves toward me. "Obviously, you did."
"How are you so sure Alex is yours? Maybe the mix up is an error." I raise a brow in challenge.
"Just seeing him, I knew." A smile spreads across Damon's face. "He resembles me as a child."
Our eyes lock together.
"Not identical, of course. I can see you in him, too. But I see and feel me in him."
Burying my face in my hands, I ask, "How did this even happen? There are supposed to be security measures in place for this."
I didn't truly expect him to answer the question.
"I'm not exactly sure of the how, yet." He pauses and I look up from my hands. "The moment I found out about the situation with the clinic, I was more focused on finding out whether there was a child out there. Now that I know there is, I'll focus on how it all happened."
"I don't even know what to say right now." Dropping my head back against the chair, I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
"I never said I'm a rational person, but I do need you, Olivia. More than you realize."
Releasing a heavy breath, I steel myself to say exactly what just passed through my mind.
"Does this have to do with Rebecca?"
At this, silence meets me. I'm too afraid to open my eyes just yet. Did I go too far? Should I have asked in a different way?
"Damon?" I'm finally brave enough to lift my head and look at him.
His face is flush, eyes watery. A pain pierces my chest. I know that look. I've seen that look on my own face. I remember looking into a mirror at the hospital right after I lost Isaac's baby.
"I'm sorry," I blurt.
"You know?" he whispers.
I nod.
"I was worried and did my own research online. I just—"
"I understand." He cuts me off and inhales deeply. "I'm surprised you didn't do it sooner,” he says, his eyes focusing on nothing.
"You didn't answer me," I still push. What the hell am I doing? Clearly, he is grieving and I'm being a bitch.
"No. Yes. No. I don’t know, Olivia.” With a heavy sigh, he meets my eyes. “I need this, Olivia. I need you and Alex. There is no way for what happened not to be a part of what I've done, but I can't go back now. I can't."
"We can't replace what you lost," I say, my voice strained, trying not to sound a total bitch.
"You are not meant to replace them," he growls.
"I'm sorry, but it seems like you want an insta-family to fill the—"
"I'm trying to get my life back, Olivia!" His voice rises. His eyes flit to the hallway and he gets himself in check. "I’m trying to bring something good into my life, something good to live for again. I refuse to go back to the empty existence I've been living."
His fists clench and unclench.
"You are my wife." He points toward the hallway. "And that is my son. Regardless of what the clinic promised you, they also made promises to me. It's not my fault you gave birth to my son, but I won't be denied involvement in his life. This is what it is, Olivia."
Intense eyes penetrate mine, like a dare to defy him.
"Calm down," I hiss.
Astonishment softens the hardness from his face.
"How long has it been since you lost them?" I already know from the internet, but I need to hear it from him. Can he acknowledge their death? The loss? If he refuses to answer, then he definitely needs to see someone about letting go of his past.
"Why?" he growls.
Ah ha.
"It seems like you're still deeply grieving. You should talk to someone about it and get help to deal with the loss. I think—"
"I don't need a shrink, Olivia," he grinds out, his jaw tight. "I've talked to enough of them. I'm very aware that Rebecca and DJ are gone." He chokes on the last words and my heart breaks. "What I need is you and my son! Now, I think we should get back on track with discussing your move to New York."
"I'm not moving to New York," I say through clenched teeth, crossing my arms over my chest.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he takes a deep breath.
"Olivia," he growls, "I will not have my wife and son so far away from me."
"You should have thought about that before inserting yourself into my life and making demands. I won't follow your orders just because you want something," I snap.
"Damn it, why are you so stubborn?" he exclaims.
"Stubborn? You think this is stubborn?" I snort. "Regardless of the marriage certificate, you are not my boss. I don't take orders from you and will not uproot my life for a man I barely know."
Sighing, he sits back on the couch across from me.
"I am your husband. It isn't just a piece of paper." His eyes narrow and I roll mine. "We'll come back to this." He rubs his face. "I need you to sign some legal documents." He shuffles through some folders on the coffee table and pushes them toward me.
"Are you going to order up some more drinks to convince me to sell my soul to you?" A humorless laugh bubbles from my chest.
Ignoring me, he levels a look that says he clearly doesn't find me funny.
"Your signature is needed for you to access my accounts and—"
"I don't want your money," I blurt, sitting up straight and wide-eyed.
"It's our money now and you will have access to it for whatever you and Alex need," he snaps back at me. "Don't deprive my child because you are stubborn," he accuses.
I gasp, my mouth opening and closing three times before finding the right words.
"My son is never deprived of anything." My voice hardens.
"You're trying to deprive him of his father," he counters. "Besides, you're taking it the wrong way. I didn't say he's not taken care of."
"Well, I still don't want it, so you can shred those. I'm not signing them." I dismiss the papers with a wave.
"I'll get you to sign them eventually."
I open my mouth to argue further, but he continues.
"This one needs to be signed so we can take care of your last names."
"Our names?"
"Yes. You both will take my last name." He pushes a long, white paper toward me.
"Ha!" I shout, but quickly lower my voice. "Our names are just fine, thank you," I remark, pleased with how nonchalant I sound.
"You won't take my last name?" he asks, clearly frustrated.
I shake my head.
"And you'll deny our son his father and right to be a Knyght officially?"
I groan.
"He's growing up just fine as a Harlow. Alex and I will keep our last name."
The flare of his nostrils gives away his attempt to stay calm. Part of me hoped he would explode so I could kick him out.
"I understand the business need of your name. But, legally, your name should be changed to Knyght, both of your names."
"Not going to happen." I keep my nonchalant facade going.
Staring at each other, it becomes a contest of who will give in first.
"You're impossible." His voice raises an octave.
Ha, you blinked first, stalky! I win!
He stands and begins to pace.
"Well, you're ridiculous. Looks like we are match made in hell."
&
nbsp; "Why? What is so ridiculous about these things?" He motions to the papers spread out on the table.
"What's ridiculous?!" I sit up to the edge of the chair. "Damon, we are a one night stand, drunk marriage in Vegas cliché. You want to change our lives for one night. We barely know each other and you want to hand over access to your money, your name, and everything. You don't want me. You want this new identity you're creating for Alex and me. Can't you see this won't work? You need to let go of your past and let this crazy idea of us go."
Before I can scramble out of the chair, he’s standing before me. Leaning forward, he braces his hands on either side of my slouched form.
"I will not let you go, either of you," he sneers. "So, get used to me being around, Mrs. Knyght."
Anger boils up from inside me, filling my limbs. I shove at his chest enough to make him sway, but not for him to release me from my chair prison.
"Move," I growl.
His right knee moves between my legs, pushing them apart.
"What are you—?"
I push at him as he drops to his knees between my parted thighs. His arms encircle my waist and his head falls into my lap.
"Please," he begs, a possessive desperation in his words.
"Please what?" I ask without moving, unsure of what he'll do next.
"Just let us be." His arms tighten around me.
My body starts to ache from the stiff posture I'm currently sitting in.
"If you are Alex's father," he tenses, "we can arrange visitations. You can be a part of his life. We don't have to be married for you to have rights to see him. That's if you are—"
"I am his father, Olivia." His voice is cold, exact. "And I don't just want visitations with him."
"Damon, please, I don't want—"
His arms tighten almost painfully.
"No, Olivia. This isn't just about Alex. It's about you and me, too. I want us. I want you to at least try." Though my thighs muffle his voice, they don't hide the desperation.
I shift uncomfortably, the heat of his breath causing unwanted reactions from my body. He eases his hold, but doesn't let me go.