Page 46 of The King (Masterpiece Duet 1)
He gives a low laugh. “He’s the one who handles the investments. My side of the business is a little more… well, let’s just say hands-on.”
“Avery told me about your strip clubs.” I infuse the words with all the disdain I feel. And hide all of the horribly misplaced jealousy. There’s no reason to mind that he’s seen naked women.
No point in thinking a girl like me would ever have claim on a man like this.
“It’s mostly addition in strip clubs,” he says, sounding playful. “Very large numbers, though. I’m sure you can imagine.”
“I’m sure I can’t imagine.” Not only because it requires being naked in front of strange men. Because we’ve never had large numbers of money.
It’s only been small numbers. Only subtraction.
“Simple math,” he continues. “No trigonometry required. No calculus.”
“Calculus is simple,” I can’t resist saying, even though I know it’s a red flag.
And he’s the bull, charging forward with a charming smile and sharp teeth. “Just because you can do something doesn’t mean it’s easy, baby genius.”
Something ignites inside me when he says that. It makes me argue against him, if only so he’ll argue back. “Calculus is just about continuity. About a line going on and on, never stopping. Never breaking.”
There was a beauty to that flow, to the infinite approach.
He runs a thick square-tipped finger down the page, as if soaking up the information. And maybe he is. Because when he speaks he seems to know what it says. “Except it isn’t real, is it? It’s an ideal. A pipe dream. A perfect vision of the world that pretends jagged edges and broken pieces don’t exist.”
“Maybe some of us need that perfect vision.” I can’t pretend we’re still talking about math.
“And maybe some of us know too much to be that naïve,” he says softly.
I think I hate him in that moment. “You think I don’t know about broken things? After what your father did? After he broke me?”
“You’re not broken,” Damon says sharply.
A startled laugh bursts from me. “I’m not the only one naïve, if you believe that.”
“You are,” he says, sounding fierce. “Still innocent. Still a baby.”
“I’m not a baby.”
There’s something brewing inside me. Maybe anger. Definitely excitement. I can’t really place the feeling, except that every time he calls me a baby I want to hit him. But I also want him to keep doing it.
He sounds almost regretful. “Fifteen years old. That’s a baby.”
There’s a wall between us, built out of fear and doubt and an age difference that will never really go away. I’m getting older, but so is he. That wall should have been enough to keep me from being interested. Instead it feels like I’ve been leaning against that wall for years.
And sometimes it feels like he’s right on the other side.
“Today’s my birthday,” I say, swallowing after the words are out.
It feels like a risk, sharing something like that. Even though it’s ordinary information. This time last year I had been at the burger place with Brennan. We started dating in middle school, even though it mostly consisted of holding hands in the hallways.
This year I’m in a modern-day castle, half guest of honor, half prisoner.
He snaps the book shut. “What?”
“My birthday,” I say, trying to sound old and unaffected like it doesn’t mean anything.
A curse word hovers in the darkness. “Did you have cake? Candles? Presents?”
A shrug. “I didn’t have those things at home. Why would I have them here?”
“Avery would have done something—”
“I didn’t tell her.”
“Why not?”
Because I didn’t want her to worry about me. And because I’m the one worried about her. She’s clearly going through something, but she’s hiding it from Gabriel. The only reason I know is because I’m mostly silent in her company. Mostly watching. “Does it matter?”
“You turned sixteen.”
I can’t help the pleased smile that crosses my face. He shouldn’t see something as vulnerable as that, but it comes out anyway. I am pleased to be sixteen. Despite what’s happened to me, despite what Daddy’s done. It’s a bright spot, being older. It feels like maybe I’m a woman.
Except when Damon stands up and crosses the room. Then I feel small and unsure again.
“You deserve a celebration,” he says, his voice biting. “A party with your friends.”
“What friends?” I say, unable to name a single person other than the one in this room.
“You have friends. From school. From the diner. And you have that boyfriend. What’s his name? Bennet?”
The air seems thick, making my chest rise and fall with each breath. “Brennan.”
“That’s right. Would he have given you a birthday kiss?”
And just like that the suggestion blooms between us, that Damon could kiss me. That he could do it right now. We’re only three feet away. So little space between us. So impossible to cross.
“Yes,” I say, more breath than sound.
