Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 53725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Alana
On the ride to my apartment, my mind is a jumbled mess of thoughts that all come back to one thing: my father. Which translates to his gambling and the potential scandal behind his gambling. It all makes sense now. In the back of my mind, I knew the show was a problem, but it all just felt too good to be true, and therefore not safe to celebrate. But it was more than that.
I haven’t saved us by taking this TV gig. After years of trying to keep it from happening, I’ve virtually assured my family will be exposed and destroyed.
The car pulls to the front of my building, and I flick Damion a look before attempting my escape. “Thank you for the ride.” I’m already reaching for the door with every intent to exit street side.
Damion catches my arm, and the heat between us is as divine as it is dangerous. He is not only the one man I’ve never been able to resist, now he’s my boss, and the son of a man holding my family hostage. “What are you doing?”
“Going home,” I say.
His eyes narrow and he searches my face. “Don’t run away, Alana.”
“I’ve known you all my life, Damion. Why would I run away from you?”
“You tell me.”
“I’m not running away.”
“Then come with me.” He captures my hand in his, and his is warm and strong.
He also doesn’t wait for my agreement. He opens his door and then guides me outside. Once we’re both standing, his hand presses warmly to my waist in what seems to be a presumed intimacy between us. “I’m going to walk you up,” he says.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Yes,” he says firmly. “It is.” He shuts the door and motions me toward the building. In the process, his hands are no longer on my body, and I want them back. I shouldn’t want them back.
The fact that I do is the very reason I need to stop him from coming up, but I know Damion. He’s made up his mind and he will see me to my apartment. Fine, I think. He’s coming up, but he’s not coming inside. I start walking, and he falls easily into step with me. Neither of us speak and while there has always been a comfort level between us in our silence, it’s not there now. We are not a couple, and yet the distance between us, the energy between us, actually reads and feels like a couple fighting.
It’s confusing, but then since we hit puberty, everything between us has been.
Once we’re inside the elevator, I whirl around to face him, fully intending to tell him to stop steamrolling me because that’s what his presence in this car right now feels like. What happened to no pressure? He punches the button and just when the doors are about to close, two men join us, waylaying the confrontation I fully intend to have with Damion. He wanted to pursue me upstairs, he gets my anger in return.
Damion and I stare at each other for several tense moments that start to feel a bit too intimate to me. I rotate away from him and face forward, watching the numbers tick by above. Our floor arrives before the two men’s and I exit with Damion on my heels, but I don’t wait on him.
My door is to the right and I’m at my apartment with my keys in hand when Damion steps in behind me. I rotate to face him. “You can’t come in.”
“We need to talk.”
“We won’t talk, and I’ll wake up with another Dear Alana note in the morning.”
His hand comes down on the door next to my head. “You know why I did that.”
“And you know how I feel about everything that happened between us before you left.”
“Let me come in, Alana.”
“No, and don’t say I owe you. I’m not doing you your favor, and that is your favor.”
His brows furrow. “What does that even mean?”
“It means the press has me on their radar. Someone is going to dig up my father’s gambling and then what? My scandal will be your scandal.”
“Wait. Are you telling me your father’s still gambling?”
“It’s an addiction, Damion.”
“It’s been ten years.”
“I know. Believe me, I know.”
His jaw sets hard. “Let’s go inside, Alana.”
“I’m not doing that. And why, Damion, can’t you just call your father off? I’ve paid back the entire amount, but now it’s interest and more interest. Why would you blow me off and tell me that’s our problem, not yours?”
He draws in a breath and says, “Let’s go inside, Alana.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“Do you really want to talk about money, gambling, and our fathers in this hallway when the press is all over you? Because one way or the other, we’re going to have this conversation. If I have to sleep at your door, we’re having it.”