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)
When his mouth parts mine, I’m breathless, my mind drugged by his kiss, but he’s still fully on point, his gaze lifting to Mary’s. “I’ll do right by you. Because doing right by you is doing right by her.”
“I hope you do,” she says.
It’s right then that her car arrives. She gives me a tiny nod and then walks to the driver’s side and climbs inside. A moment later, she is gone, and Damion catches the fingers of one of my hands in his. “Let’s go home.”
Home.
That word choice twists me in knots and pulls tight. He asked me to move in with him, but he also told me the ring on my finger is as fake as his father declared the idea of us marrying. Damion says it’s because he’s not good enough for me. Then why is he good enough for me to live with?
He tugs me to him, his hand settling low and possessive on my back. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop. It’s wrong.”
I wet my dry lips and nod, but I can’t find words.
He kisses my fingers and says, “I’ll make you understand.”
I nod again, though I don’t know what he’s referencing.
Make me understand why he can’t marry me?
Make me understand why that doesn’t matter?
I don’t know if either is possible, but not only do I love him, right now, he needs me. And I need him.
Chapter three
Damion flags the doorman as he drapes his arm over my shoulders, and pulls me close, his big powerful body warm and strong against mine as we wait for his car. Tonight he’s driving a silver Porsche Boxster worth two hundred thousand easily. I can’t say the vehicle didn’t impress me when he’d unveiled it tonight, because it did, it does, but that level of luxury where Damion is concerned, doesn’t surprise me. He’s always had money, lots of it, and he’s never hesitated to lean into the style and prestige that comes with it. And by his own admission, no matter how vague, he also leaned into the methods his father utilizes to create that wealth. I’ve heard the stories about his father, the brutal, unethical corporate raider but growing up, he was just Damion’s arrogant, grumpy father. I don’t like to think about Damion being another version of him, but I do believe him when he says he wants to be a better man. But even with his confession and proclamation, in my mind, it’s hard not to think about how I’ve felt used by Damion at times in our lives, especially after his father came at me like he did.
I’ve loved him since we were kids, but I’ve long ago taken off the rose-colored glasses where life, and he, exists.
I’ve learned that love is a complicated thing. It can both make us whole and shred us, and I fear with Damion, that’s the least of my worries. I believe—I know—he has the power to carve out my heart and leave me incapable of anything resembling a normal human being. He could easily break me, and I’m not sure I have the same power over him, and that’s a problem. A relationship has to be halves, two parts of one whole, and yet equal in who we are and what we are apart and together.
My show might erase my perceived deficiency in career and finances but Damion is why it even materialized. But on the other hand, he gave me an opportunity without guaranteed success. I’m the one who turned it into skyrocketing ratings.
Damion pulls me around in front of him. “I can hear you thinking.”
“I’m not surprised. You know me better than anyone on this Earth.”
“Then remember the same applies to you with me.”
“That’s why you picked me for your fake fiancée, right?”
His expression turns stormy. “You know we aren’t fake.”
“Just the ring?”
“Alana—”
It’s right then that the car is pulled up beside us. “We’ll talk at your apartment,” I say, and someone shoots a photo of me, and I have a piece of paper shoved at me.
“Can I get an autograph, Alana?”
I swallow hard and plant a smile on my lips before greeting the thirty-something woman and scribbling my name on what is actually a napkin, not a piece of paper. A full minute later, I’m warmed by her love of my show, and when she departs, Damion guides me to the car and opens the door. I quickly fold myself into the vehicle, the warm leather enveloping me; much like my love for Damion does every moment I’m with him, but that doesn’t make our ride one without turbulence and pain. The truth is, his father’s comments were poorly timed, just after the whole ring fiasco. It’s real and fake at the same time, which perfectly personifies us.
The entire exchange had cut deep while his father’s insults ground in the open wound.