Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
It’s a long time later, when we really have finished a super cute Hallmark movie, and our bellies are full of amazing tacos. Damion turns off the TV and rolls us to our sides, facing each other, our legs curled together, his hands on my hips. “You know that song that was on when we were downstairs. It’s by Masked Wolf—”
“Astronaut in the Ocean.”
“Yeah, that one. It reminds me of you.”
“Me?” I ask, surprised, though it’s not an unfamiliar feeling, even when it played tonight. “Why?”
“You’ve always been the astronaut, destined to soar higher and higher, while the rest of us try to pull you into an ocean of sharks.”
I’m stunned by this comparison, and I am certain it confirms what I’ve read in him. He’s afraid of pulling me under and drowning me.
“When I say I have to protect you,” he adds, “it’s not out of obligation. It’s out of my personal need to take care of you. I just keep getting it wrong.”
“I’m here now,” I say, emotion welling in my belly. “If you don’t let go, you didn’t get it wrong this time.”
He nods and pulls back the covers. We climb under, and he reaches over and turns out the light. Damion pulls me down on the bed, folding me close, holding me almost a little too tight as he says, “I don’t want to get it wrong with you, Alana.”
But he thinks he will.
That’s the unspoken message but I also realize that he’s told me I’m an astronaut and he’s a shark in the ocean. I think—I think he’s our worst enemy, and maybe his own, too, and it’s time for him to see himself through my eyes. It’s time for me to hold onto him as hard as he’s holding onto me right now. Even if that means I stand toe to toe with his father in a proverbial war. I think of my mother crying about that man forcing her to have sex with him. I’ve let that go. Why have I let that go?
This is war, and Damion’s father is my enemy, and his as well.
And the best place to fight it is by Damion’s side.
Part Two
“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned”
—William Congreve’s play, The Mourning Bride (1697).
And before this is over, Alana will be that woman…
Chapter fourteen
Damion
“In every woman there is a Queen. Speak to the Queen and the Queen will answer.”
— Norwegian Proverb.
I wake to a room cloaked in darkness, with my cellphone incessantly ringing and Alana’s soft, naked body tucked in front of mine, with me wrapped around her. I’m not even thinking about answering that call. I savor the impossibility of finally having her here with me, finally holding her, fucking her, just being with her. Alana is in my bed, where she belongs. I nuzzle her neck, addicted to the sweet floral scent of her and the warmth of her next to me. She snuggles her sweet little backside against my thickening erection and murmurs my name, reaching behind her to rasp her fingers over the stubble on my jaw. My hand slides over the silk of her skin and I cup her breast, and thank fuck, my phone goes silent.
“Your phone,” she murmurs, as if it’s only now registered in her mind. “It’s dark. What if it’s important?”
As if she’s willed it to life, the damn thing starts to ring again.
“Holy hell,” I grind out and brush my mouth over hers. “You know this has to do with my father’s bullshit games.”
“You have to take it,” she urges, and I know she’s right. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”
I relinquish my hold on Alana and roll for my phone, my damn cock hard enough at this point to hammer the asshole calling me to death. Snatching my cell from the nightstand, I note the six am hour and the caller ID. It’s officially confirmed. This is bullshit calling. I flip on the nightstand light, sit up, and answer, “Let me guess, Max. You’ve talked to my father.” Max being the most influential member of the board.
“Not me,” he says, “but he’s talking in a lot of ears and putting me in a crap position. I want to move the board meeting. They all do.”
“That’s bullshit.” I throw the blanket away and settle my feet on the ground. “This is done. They all signed commitments. Legally binding commitments.”
“And we all want to keep those deals—”
“Contractual obligations,” I correct.
He clears his throat. “There’s a problem, son. Your father has ‘something’ on everyone, and he’s made threats. We all need time to get our houses in order. If we vote today, the board will risk your wrath over his, and your father wins.”
“He won’t win when I sue.”
“And you’ll plunge our stock to the deep, dark depths of hell.”