Page 31 of The Queen (Masterpiece Duet 2)
Until he sees me at the other end of the room. Then his expression turns anticipatory. That’s never a good thing when you’re dealing with a man like him. Nothing he looks forward to will be good for me.
If I’m a broke-down version of Cinderella, Damon is a very dark prince.
“Come here,” he says with a crook of his finger.
Of course I was coming to see him anyway. Now it’s like he ordered me to do it. I take a step closer, wondering if I’m crazy for confronting him. Hiding in my room won’t very well help either. I have to do something. Hiro melts into the crowd, and I’m on my own.
I keep going until I’m a foot away from him, all the people hushed around us.
“What are you doing?” I demand.
“Enjoying myself,” he says with a little smile.
I’ve seen him leaning over me for a kiss. I’ve seen him peruse my body with a hungry gaze. That’s what Damon Scott looks like when he’s having a good time. This is something else. He’s not enjoying himself while he knows Avery is in his father’s grip. “That’s a lie.”
He grasps my wrist before I realize he’s reaching for me, and I tumble into his lap. “It’s a little better now that you’re here. And now that you’re close.”
My muscles are tense, stiff, as I control my natural instinct to fight him. I want to slap him for touching me. No, I want to slap him for touching me in front of these strangers. For turning the terrible, irrepressible attraction between us into a public affair.
That would prove that it matters to me. That he matters to me.
I lean back in his arms, pretending I’m unconcerned with my yoga pants and my bare feet. Pretending I’m as comfortable with my sexuality as the people watching us with betrayal and envy. “I don’t think you’re enjoying yourself at all. I think you’re pretending. Which is interesting.”
“That’s not interesting. I’m much more interested in what brought you downstairs. Is there something you wanted to see, sweet girl? Something you want to try?”
“How about honesty?”
A low laugh. “Honestly, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
The words make a mockery of my request. They make of a mockery of me, a regular girl surrounded by women that belong on magazine covers. One of them gives a delicate little snort.
I want to pretend like he hasn’t hurt me, but my cheeks heat. “We should be going to find Avery.”
“You could argue that she brought this on herself. She’s the one who wanted him to live.”
“How dare you? No one asks for that.” In the second that passes we’re no longer talking about Avery but about me. About what his father did to me. I still feel his hands on my skin, bruises like brands.
Damon tenses underneath me, but his voice sounds casual as he says, “Avery made her bed. Now let her lie in it. Meanwhile you can lie in my bed.”
Now I do struggle against him, but his arm is like iron across my lap. “Let me go.”
A commotion from the front door disrupts the crowd, and Damon tightens his hold even farther. Gabriel Miller is always in control, always in charge, a businessman with an air of danger and more money than God. Now he looks haggard as he pushes through the crowd.
“You,” he says on a snarl.
Damon sets me upright before I realize what’s happening, standing and pushing me behind him in one smooth move. “Oh, did you get the text message? How nice of you to join us.”
“Don’t do this,” Gabriel says, his voice low and a little desperate.
“I’m not doing anything,” Damon says, almost playful as he objects.
“This is Avery we’re talking about. She’s—” The large man breaks off, his golden eyes glinting with danger and emotion.
“Avery can take care of herself. Probably.”
“I could fucking kill you right now. Not one person here would stop me.”
Damon’s voice is wry. “Of course not. It would be the best entertainment they’ve had all year.”
“I should do it,” Gabriel says on a rumble that sends chills through me. For a breathless moment violence flashes in his golden eyes. It passes in a rush, leaving only desolation.
“Then do it,” Damon says softly. “Kill me if you have to, but don’t come here and talk to me like you have any right. That’s what you lost. That’s what you gave up for her.”
He strides past us, and everyone returns to their dancing and their sex. The show is over, except for a desperate Gabriel. “Talk to him,” he says.
My eyes widen. “He doesn’t listen to me.”
“He does. You’re the only one.” His laugh is thick with grief.
“What are you going to do?”
“Go there myself, of course. But Damon was right when he said no place can hold his father. And that means we’ll need him. One way or another he has to come.”
