by Raquel Belle
Again, her cheeks flamed. “Of course, not. Don’t change the subject. You wanted me to do your dirty work, and I quit. There’s nothing left for us to talk about. Goodbye, Mother.”
“Not so fast. I told you to sit. Are you sitting down?”
Gritting her teeth, Abby cursed herself for not simply ending the call. “Yes. Why?”
“I’m going to tell you the truth. I’m going to give you the dirty details that I've been trying to protect you from. Hopefully, you’ll see why I’ve been hell-bent on destroying Coldwell and regaining Aldridge Enterprises.”
Finally, the truth. Abby pulled in a deep breath and sat back. “You have my undivided attention.”
***
The knock on Abby’s door took her by surprise. She wanted to be left alone to wallow in her deepening despair. The conversation with her mother had been both eye-opening and depressing. She was thrown further into distress when she discovered who was at the door. After a few knocks, her unwanted visitor began to shout her name. There was no mistaking who the voice belonged to.
“Abby?” Damian shouted, followed by another boom on the door.
Abby jumped up, her eyes wide. Celeste confessed to giving Damian her address after her revelation about the decades-long feud between the Aldridge’s and Coldwell’s. It started with both her and Damian’s fathers, and Damian had taken it upon himself to continue the feud. To think she’d started to believe that Damian’s callousness had been exaggerated. After hearing the full story, it turned out that he was worse. He was as heartless and conniving as his father before him. Her resentment of him had returned and even grew the longer she sat in silence and processed everything Celeste had revealed.
He was the last person she wanted to see. Yet, there he was at her door, practically knocking it off of its hinges. “Damn it,” she said, looking around her living room. She didn’t have time to hide her painting, so she turned the easel around to face the window. He wouldn’t be staying long because he certainly wasn’t welcome.
Her mood darkened as she marched to the door. She had been drawn back into her mother’s scheme, and she was none too happy about it. Even a saint would agree that Damian deserved whatever was coming to him. Taking a steady breath, she yanked the door open.
“You’re disturbing the entire building, Damian.”
He stood there, dark eyes assessing before his brow furrowed. “If you had opened the door before my patience wore thin instead of deliberately making me wait, there would’ve been no need to beat down your door.”
Leaning against the door and folding her arms, she suppressed her desire to lash out. She looked at him closely, without emotion. He looked as handsome and smouldering as ever, meeting her stare head-on, his typical stoic demeanor in place. “What do you want?”
In the manner that never failed to heat her blood, his eyes ran over her frame from head to toe. There was a small smile playing on his lips that barely softened the hard edges of his expression. “There are a few things that I want,” he said, making her swallow hard. “But I mostly came to apologize.”
“After two days?”
“I thought I’d give you enough time to cool off. You’re as hot-headed as they come, Querida. A trait I find incredibly stimulating, but I didn’t want to approach you too soon and risk losing an important body part.”
She hated that he made her want to smile. She hated herself for hungrily drinking him in with her eyes. Even as she tried to convince herself that she hadn’t missed him in the least, there was no denying that her body did. “I’ve calmed down …”
“Then invite me in.”
“I don’t know how I feel about you invading my personal space.”
He smirked. “I’ve already invaded plenty of your personal spaces.”
It was too late to shove down the thrill that shot up her spine at his suggestive comment. Sweeping her lashes down to hide her embarrassment and her sudden carnal need, she dropped her hands and stepped aside. “So you have ... What’s another one for you to invade, right? Please, come in, Damian.”
His presence in her apartment set her on edge. She hated him. She wanted him. She wished she could scream her frustration. How could she still be in the least bit attracted to him after what she had discovered? Abby watched him study his surroundings as she cursed her anxiety. She shouldn’t care less what Damian thought of her place.
“Your home looks like you,” he said, taking in the bold colors and various paintings gracing the walls. His lips kicked up at the corners when his gaze landed on stacks of books littering a side table.
“I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or not.”
His dark eyes found and held her captive. “Definitely a compliment.” His mouth formed a disapproving frown. “There’s no security anywhere to be seen in the lobby. You shouldn’t parade around unprotected.”
“Excuse me? I’m a grown woman.” Abby found his comment amusing, but she refused to laugh. She didn’t want to give him the slightest idea that he was in anyway way forgiven for his behavior just days before.
“You happen to have a prominent surname.”
She gave him a mirthless smile. “Thanks for your concern, but I’m hardly a candidate for kidnapping, what with the dwindling Aldridge fortune and all. Besides I’ve always flown under the radar of high society. I’m just another basic gal trying to live her life in peace.”
“There’s nothing basic about you,” Damian said.
The words were so low, Abby nearly missed them. She quickly averted her gaze, refusing to be pulled in by his charm more than she’d already been. Remember everything he’s done, she reminded herself. “So, you spoke with my mother yesterday ...”
“I did,” he said, as an unmasked hatred flickered across his face. “I was hoping to see you, but the vile harpy told me you weren’t there. I decided to give you another day before coming here.”
“You have no right to talk about her in such a manner. She’s my mother.” Indeed, Celeste could be vile but Abby didn’t take kindly to the likes of Damian calling her mother vile, how could he when he was just as bad as Celeste. Hell, Abby felt like she belonged in the vile category as well because after dropping her task to take Damian down, she was seemingly back on board.
“Don’t hold your breath for an apology.” His gaze was unwavering, daring her to demand one.
Abby relented. “I wasn’t happy when she informed me that she gave you my true address.”
“I knew where you lived before yesterday. I knew you didn’t reside at the mansion the entire time.”
“What ... How?”
His shoulders lifted casually as he bent to study the framed photos decorating the center table. Abby wanted to scoop them up and hide them from him. Having him in her personal business was unsettling. “How …?”
“I knew just about everything I needed to know about you from a very thorough background check.” He straightened and turned back to her, as if he’d just announced something trivial like the weather.
Abby gawked, outraged and on the verge of panic. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that there was no way he knew she was manipulating him from a background check. Then, she focused on her outrage. “How dare you invade my privacy like that? You could have just asked whatever you wanted to know.”
“You’re an Aldridge, I had to make sure you weren’t a liar like the rest of your bunch.”
The fact that he was so calm and matter of fact infuriated her. Damian thought he could do anything he pleased and get away with it. Obviously, his money and power had gotten to his head.
“When I dubbed you a pompous ass, I couldn't have been more spot on.”
Damian had the gall to laugh, and she pictured herself bashing his head in with any heavy object that she could get her hands on. “I told you, Abby, I’m cautious with reason. I’m sorry if you feel that I invaded your privacy, but when you think about it, I don’t know any intimate details about you. I know your studies involved art, and
I know about your new job, but I had no idea that you paint.” He looked to the easel stand and the stool beside it littered with small containers of paints and brushes. He covered the distance between them and lifted a hand to swipe his thumb across her left cheek. “You’ve got a smear of blue right here.”
Abby reacted first, with a hitch of her breath as he made the slight contact, then the clenching of her stomach caused by his proximity, and then her face heated, embarrassed that she’d had paint on her face the entire time. She pulled away and reached up to wipe her cheek.
Damian laughed. “It’s not going anywhere. It’s already dried.”
“Excuse me while I go wash my face …”
His fingers wrapped around her wrist, stopping her escape. “It’s no big deal. You make anything look good.”
“Flattery won’t help your case, Damian,” she said, attempting to slip out of his hold. But the butterfly wings fluttering in her stomach said differently.
His fingers tightened slightly, as he pulled her closer. “Maybe this will.” He dipped his head toward hers.
She should have pushed him away, but her traitorous body wouldn’t have it. The instant their lips touched, she forgot how much she was supposed to despise him. She found herself melting into him and anticipating each movement of his mouth. It didn’t take long for the flames of sexual need to ignite. But before she could be engulfed by those flames, by him, she moaned a protest and pulled away.
He only allowed her to get so far. She was still pressed against his chest, but his mouth was no longer distracting her. “Let me go,” she said. “You can’t show up and expect me to just fall into your arms.”
“But you just did,” Damian said, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “And it was so easy. You respond to me so readily every time, Querida.”
Humiliated though she was, Abby didn’t bother to hiss out any argument. He was right. It was like she lost all sense of self whenever he was close. She forgot all about why she was really entertaining his advances. Maybe they could have something real. It amazed her how she still felt that way despite finding out that he really was the ruthless man everyone made him out to be.
“That’s why I’m here. I need you to forgive me, Abby.” Her eyes flew to his, wide with surprise. “I revel in your body’s response to even my lightest touch. I’ve missed having you in my bed these last two nights. Hell, I even kind of miss you talking my ears off in the morning.”
This time, Abby did pull away. “You came all the way here to tell me you miss having sex. Nice, Damian.”
His lips twitched. “I did, but…I also came to tell you that I miss you as well.” He blew out a breath and ran his fingers through his hair. “I can’t even believe I’m here. I should forget about you, Abby. I really should. But here I am, and I’m sorry for the way I brought up your father the other morning. You’re still grieving, and I was insensitive.”
She noticed that he hadn’t apologized for the things he’d said, just for the way he’d said them. “Your delivery was totally inappropriate,” she said, “but you’ve made no secret of hating all Aldridge’s, so I shouldn’t have been so injured over the whole thing.”
“I don’t hate all Aldridge’s, Abby. Surely, you’ve realized that by now.”
“Let’s just forget about our little spat. I’m over it.”
Damian’s eyes bore into her. Again, it was like he was staring at her soul—her now tainted soul. “Something isn’t right.”
Her heart dropped. “What do you mean?”
“I was expecting you to spit way more fire before forgiving me. Maybe throw a few more colorful insults.”
That was what she ached to do, but there was no time for all of that when she needed to get back into his bed so that she could do what needed to be done. “You would deserve every insult too,” she said, “but what would be the point? It wouldn’t change the fact that you hate my last name.”
Damian sighed. “Abby …”
“It’s okay, Damian … Really. I, too, have enjoyed our time in the sack. That alone will earn your forgiveness.”
He scratched his chin thoughtfully before his smooth chuckle resonated in her living room. “Delightful as always … Now that we have that settled, I’m inviting you to my mother’s for dinner this Sunday. Say yes. She insisted that I bring you.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” Abby said. “This habit you have of insulting me and then inviting me places is getting old. I am not going to meet your mother. We’re not even ... together.”
“We don’t have to be a couple to enjoy an amazing home-cooked meal. Come with me, Abby.”
“Absolutely not.”
***
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Abby said. She huffed and folded her arms under her breasts and stared at the impressive two-story house in front of her.
Damian’s smile was smug. “There was no way you could refuse after I persuaded you so effectively with my tongue…and my fingers and my …”
“We’re at your mother’s door, Damian. Please, be quiet.”
With a rumble of laughter, he pushed his key into the door and opened it. Abby hesitated before stepping inside. She felt like the biggest hypocrite to ever walk the face of the earth. There she was back with Damian, sleeping with him, and meeting his mother…all while she was still plotting against him. A few days, she mused. That was all it took for her to go from stone-hearted and determined to make Damian pay for his sins…to feeling guilty. He was such a good actor—projecting traits of gentleness to counter his grimmer side.
He’d stayed with her in her cramped apartment last night and ate take out, as if he wasn’t some powerful business mogul who surely had more important things to do. Then, he’d made love to her and held her in his arms all night, as if he hadn’t made it clear that they were in no way, shape or form, a loving couple. His Jekyll and Hyde act was keeping her on her toes and never failed to make her question her plot for revenge.
“My mother or anyone one else you meet won’t bite, Abby.”
She blinked and realized that she was frozen in the doorway. “Sorry, I was just lost in thought for a minute.” She shrugged off her coat and handed it to him. Damian hung it next to his and sent her a reassuring smile. “Who else am I going to meet?”
“Just my cousin and a friend of mine—who’s apparently now my mother’s friend.” He scowled at the last comment and Abby’s brows kicked up.
“You have a problem with that?”
“Yes, a major problem,” he said through clenched teeth. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her further inside. “Let’s just get this over with. Maybe we can make an early break after dinner.”
That would suit her just fine. Being around Damian’s family would doubtless be awkward. She wondered what kind of a person his mother was. Probably cold and miserable, seeing as how Damian turned out to be the ruthless man that he was.
“Mamá,” Damian called as they made their way through a spacious and beautifully decorated living room. The decor screamed money, yet it wasn’t ostentatious. Mother Coldwell had taste, it seemed. He erupted into rapid Spanish as a woman emerged through an archway.
Abby’s jaw slackened. Damian’s mother wasn’t at all what she’d expected. She hadn’t seen any pictures of her at his place because he spent most of his time at his penthouse. The house had been bought as a project to keep his mother busy because she loved decorating. That was the story he’d told her. I need to get into that damn penthouse, Abby thought absently, all the while gaping at the beauty strolling toward them.
She had bone straight, jet black hair with just a hint of gray at the sides and a curvaceous figure that many women paid a lot of money for. She was a few heads taller than Abby, and she moved with a dignified grace. Simply put, Damian’s mother was a knockout. She’d obviously had Damian young because she was still quite youthful. Abby had been right. Damian had inherited his good looks from his mother.
“Hola, hijo,” she said.
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Abby watched with growing amusement as the woman caught Damian’s cheeks between her hands, pulled him down to her level, and gave him a loud peck on the forehead. He grumbled something in Spanish, seemingly annoyed, but his eyes were warm as he looked upon his mother.
“I’m sorry, son. Am I embarrassing you in front of your lady friend?” Her words were heavily accented and her eyes twinkled with mischief as she glanced Abby’s way.
Damian scowled and muttered, “Yes, the kiss was a bit much.”
“Oh, stop. I’m sure your macho ego can handle a little embarrassment.”
Abby snickered. Instantly, albeit reluctantly, she felt her admiration for the woman blossoming. She seemed like she gave Damian a hard time and tempered his arrogance. That was a plus in Abby’s book.
“Hello, dear.” The bubbly woman moved to Abby with a broad, welcoming smile. To Abby’s surprise, she was swept into an embrace. “I’m Arlet, and don't you dare let me hear you call me ma’am.”
Abby giggled and relaxed into the warm hug. “I’m Abigail, but please, call me Abby.”
Arlet beamed. “Nice to meet you, Abby. Damian, you didn’t tell me your friend was so beautiful. I see why she caught your eyes.”
Abby’s eyes in turn nearly bulged out of their sockets. For the first time, she witnessed a hint of color seeping into Damian’s cheeks. He was blushing. She had no idea he was capable of it. The temptation to whip out her phone and snap a picture to tease him with later was dampened by the arrival of two others. A woman—another knockout—who had some resemblance to Arlet breezed into the room, followed by an older man.
“I hope all this excitement means Damian’s girlfriend has arrived.”
“Camilla,” Damian said.
“Damian,” she returned with an impish grin. She brushed past him and extended a hand to Abby. “Camilla Gonzalez, a pleasure to meet you.”