Page 50 of The Queen (Masterpiece Duet 2)
By the time we reach the private airfield outside the city, I long for the cot in my small room. I long for the trays of delicious food that appear outside my door, the safety of knowing that Damon Scott protects me with more than just his money or his weapons—he guards me with his body.
But he doesn’t take me to the Den.
We pull into the grounds I recognize as Gabriel Miller’s mansion.
I think I’ve reached a state of numbness. The loss of hearing helps with that. Or makes it worse, depending on your perspective. I’m just fine not feeling anything.
I would put off feeling forever if I could.
Avery greets me at the door, tears darkening her hazel eyes. She pulls me close for a tight hug. The men are different from us, less emotional—on the outside. Less affectionate. But they still greet each other with what feels like both gratitude and apology, the source of their divide gone. The men disappear into Gabriel’s study to talk.
I’m led to a comfortable sitting room with low couches covering most of the floor. Avery almost pulls me into her lap, clucking over my injuries and petting my hair. It feels strange to be fussed over. Even as a child when I got hurt, I found my own Band-Aids or went without.
And I can’t deny that it feels good to be fussed over. To know someone cares.
I can only hear her intermittently, everything still muted. “I’m so proud of you,” she says. “Damon told us what you did on the phone. How you were the one to bring him down.”
Is that what happened? That isn’t how I would have said it. It’s Damon who brought us there, Damon who faced his own personal monster. And I helped. There is a kind of pride that I helped.
I mumbled answers to the paramedics, nodded or shook my head to Damon on the way here. Only now do I find my voice to speak, woman to woman. “The nurses?”
Her eyes turn cloudy. “They’re okay. Some of them more than others.”
“Where are they?”
“Most of them went home, if they had families to take care of them. The rest went to a women’s shelter who will help them heal and start over.”
I don’t need to ask what Jonathan Scott did to them while he had the chance. I already know what he’s capable of. My body remembers the violation of it intimately. “And you?”
She sighs. “I don’t know. I want to say that I’m fine. Especially seeing what the other women had to endure, it feels wrong to complain.”
“Your journey is your own,” I whisper.
Her eyes meet mine, clear again. “Yes. My journey hasn’t always been easy, but I have help. I have Gabriel, who hasn’t left my side for a moment since it happened. And I have you.”
I lean my head against her shoulder, trying to imbue her with strength. “What about you?” she asks softly. “Do you have someone?”
She isn’t asking about someone, though. She’s asking about Damon. And the truth is I don’t know how to answer that. He loves me. He’s said it, but the idea still seems far away. Detached. Maybe that’s because I’m still processing what happened, but I think it might be him. That he loves me in that abstract, unobtainable way that says we’ll never be together. That he can love me only from afar.
And that seems to be confirmed when Gabriel finds us an hour later, telling us that Damon has left, that he isn’t coming back. That I’m free to stay there for as long as I need.
Chapter Thirty
The Den spills light and laughter onto the street. I step out of the cab knowing that I don’t have much hope of doing anything here, but I couldn’t bring myself to register for classes last week. Couldn’t return to Smith without going to Damon one last time. Without fighting for us.
It’s been two weeks since he left me at Gabriel Miller’s sprawling modern castle.
Two weeks of wondering if he would come back for me. He didn’t.
Two bouncers built like linebackers ignore me as I step inside the house. There isn’t anyone having sex on the floor of the foyer, but I can see undulating bodies in the corner behind the stairs. Most people are dancing to a low and heavy beat. It’s the perfect rhythm for pressing legs together, for pushing tongues against each other.
Everyone here ignores me as I squeeze past bare skin and leather and lace.
I’m wearing something a little party-ish tonight, a sapphire-blue dress that I borrowed from Avery. The satin fabric hugs my body. I can’t help but feel exposed even with no one looking at me.
Damon ignores me as I wind through the crowd. He doesn’t look up from his conversation even when I stand directly in front of him. But I feel his attention like a heat lamp, making me blush.
