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)
“Because I’m always trying to protect you from me.”
I press my hand to his face. “Stop. It doesn’t protect me. It hurts us. And saying I’m not good for you, don’t marry me, but move in, what am I supposed to do with that?”
“Go with it and move in with me. I’m as fucked up as that logic might seem, Alana, and in all kinds of other ways, too. The best thing I think I can do for you is let you see it, all of it. Then maybe you really will get smart and run.”
“I’m not going to run,” I vow.
“We’ll see,” he says, and removes the ring from the velvet, slipping it on my finger.
I hold my hand out between us and study the beautiful ring that might not represent an engagement, but after his story, I believe it represents our lifetime of history together. And that matters. That makes it special to me.
There are moments in life that are sunshine and moments that are thunderstorms. I’ve had both with Damion, but this isn’t exactly a sunshine moment, although it’s no thunderstorm either.
“Do you like it?” he asks, and this touches me. Because the man asking this question is the one who picked out this ring and wanted to come find me at a time when I thought we were lost to each other.
“It fits perfectly,” I comment, “and the heart shape. I can’t believe you remembered the heart shape.”
“Don’t ask me how I know your ring size,” he says, “but I do.”
Because he knows me. And I know him, even if he doesn’t think I do. For the first time, I think he needs to see himself through my eyes, not his father’s. I’m not going anywhere, but I still think he might. But loving him, I already know, means living with that risk.
Chapter Forty-Two
Damion
Alana and I have been sitting at a French restaurant with Mary chatting for over an hour, and twice Alana has had to sign an autograph. I watch her glow and shine in these moments, and I swear I am crazier about her every second I’m with her. She needed this show, she needed the success that is her own. She deserves everything and more, in return for the dreams and plans she’s given up in life to support her family.
As if Mary reads my mind, she says. “The attention you’re getting is fun, Alana. It’s deserving. The show is great fun.”
“Thank you,” Alana says. “It doesn’t feel real yet.”
“I’m sure it’s amazing to have your best friend and fiancé by your side to enjoy it.”
It’s a comment that references the childhood stories Alana has been telling Mary, at Mary’s encouragement, all of which she has gobbled up. Mary is an interesting woman, I decide. A grandmother type in personality, but modern and fit, with long, gray hair and an elegant facial structure. She’s the right figurehead for a woman-based company that hasn’t seen its potential yet. Keeping her in place is a solid decision.
As the night draws later, and coffees are delivered to our table, Mary sighs and looks at me. “I guess we need to talk business, Damion. I’m going to be frank. I feel good about you, but I need to know your father isn’t involved in this deal. He’ll raid the hell out of us and gut me and my business.”
“I’m not going to let that happen,” I assure her. “And he’s not a part of this. I have the votes to push the merger I promised you through.”
“I need to meet with the people who will be running the show.”
“I don’t know that we have that time,” I say, feeling the urgency of my father’s pressure even from afar.
“Please make the time for me,” she says. “If I feel good about this, I’ll feed that through to my people.”
There’s a shift in the air, and someone appears at the edge of our table. My gaze lifts and I feel a punch in the gut. My father is that someone. “What a coincidence,” he says. “Is there room for one more?”
Alana squeezes my hand under the table and Mary’s eyes go to mine. “What is this?”
The answer is in my father’s eyes.
He believes this is the end of me and my chances to dethrone him. He believes this is where he renews his power and comes after me and Alana and destroys us as ruthlessly as possible.
In my eyes is another story.
One where he’s just handed me the key to the castle. One where I remove him from our lives any way necessary to protect Alana. I’d say let the games begin, but they started ten years ago. They end now, no matter how bloody this has to get.
The end…for now