Before I can shove him to put some very necessary distance between us, he yanks me toward him, and our eyes collide—emptiness to vacuum, calm to storm, light to dark. Right now, he feels like the sun and I am the moon, and I willingly, freely, and out of a surreal love for him go down every morning so he can rise and shine over the earth.
“You haven’t answered me, Damien, and stop touching me.” It would have been a demand if my tone matched my determination. How unfair to be betrayed by yourself.
“Why? Does my touch do funny things to you?”
He dares to smirk at me. Damn it all to hell! I put my finger in his face while he backtracks a few steps as I follow, only for him to switch the next second to predatory and reverse the pace.
“Is that fire I catch in your eyes? I must do something right, then.”
He’s stalking toward me, and I withdraw until the wall hinders me. Why is this stupid wall the only one standing in the way of my escape? Anger surges in me.
“Where are you going to run, baby? Does my proximity knock you off balance?”
I pound my fists on his chest, tears streaming down my face, and I shout, “You bastard! You arrogant asshole! Who do you think you are? Well, let me tell you then. You are nothing to me. You don’t knock me off balance, and just so we can be clear about this, I don’t react in any way to you. I don’t know what game you’re playing, and I don’t care.” I point toward the door. “And let me repeat something you said to me exactly one year ago, ‘Get the hell out of here.’”
Shivers rock my body. So much energy wasted, and for what? To feel even more drained than before? Why do I have to bring the night of my twenty-fourth birthday up, the night holding equal beauty and horror to it, leaving me incapable of separating the good from the devastation that followed.
He grabs my hands in his as he raises them above my head. It should infuriate me but it somehow has a calming effect. I am truly deranged.
“Enough. This is not good for you. Are you trying to kill yourself so I can witness it? Is this what you want?” Damien drops my hands and then cups my face in his as I lean toward him. “I am a worthless piece of shit, Bria, but”—he laces our fingers together and palms my heart with his other hand—”if yours ceases beating, mine will too, baby. They have always been connected. I can’t and won’t stop it. I can’t live in a world where you are no longer present. Don’t you get it? The same chain binds us. Fight me, punch me, and say all the things you have kept bottled up inside, but don’t leave me without you.”
He pleads, and something resembling a bitter laugh escapes my lips as I crane my neck at him and tap my lower lip. “For a moment, I thought you were selfless, but as always, you think only of yourself. Why the change of heart suddenly? Go to Monica. Let her heal you. Why are you here, with me, when the love of your life and your future wife is still in London? I mean, she is the one who . . . how do I phrase it . . . tamed you so you quit screwing everything with legs and tits, you once told me.”
With the back of my hand, I wipe the tears away and continue, “Exactly one year ago, you called me a whore, but you were the duplicitous one. I pursed my lips and died inside as you buried me with your cruel accusations. And now you’re here trying to do what? You made me like this, accept it, and leave.”
He stumbles back as if I smacked him, and I crumple on the edge of the bed.
DAMIEN
She fired everything she has on me, but when the truth of your mistakes is shoved in your face, you try to make excuses for yourself. I need a moment to regroup because I have to proceed with caution. I comb my fingers through my hair and approach her. Bria’s words gut me. I deserve them and more.
“I never called you a whore,” I say, trying to appease her.
“No? Oh, sorry. You just implied it. My bad. Just go . . .. now.” She points one trembling finger toward the door.
“I can’t, Bria. I can’t leave you like this.”
I knee and nudge myself between her legs that widen without me even asking. She must have realized her slip, but it’s too late for her to close them. Her sigh deflates me.
“Yes, let’s pity poor little Bria. Oh, she’s ill. I don’t need your compassion!” She tilts her head to the side, palms rubbing her thighs, nose stuck in the air.
I grip her hands and demand, “Stop yelling and being so difficult. Sure, you have every right to be mad at me, and I’ll take everything you throw at me, but don’t say I’m sorry for you. I am here with my wounds bare for you to see, and show you who I am, a fractured man. I have nothing else on my agenda.”
With her puffy eyes, and her face drawn in dark, vertical lines from her mascara running down her cheeks, she is a beauty in pain, and I am desperate to unburden her. I trace the contour of her face and rejoice in her softness.
“Why do you constantly have to touch me? It’s unnerving,” she says, and my heart flutters. I am screwed when it comes to her. Whatever happens tonight won’t be how we end. I swear on our stubborn love, I’ll fight for another chance.
“I haven’t seen you in a year. I hoped to catch a glimpse of you somewhere, but it never happened. The only thing keeping me sane right now is to touch you and realize you’re here with me.”
She folds her hands over her chest. I will tear with my bare hands every new shield she tries to build around her.
“I was busy with work. Most of the time, I was in my office or home, and on some nights, I had dinner with my parents and Filip.”
“I stopped myself from bursting through your office door so many times. I lost count of how many times I’ve been here, hoping to see you, only you, baby. I came for nothing and no one else,” I confess, but she gives me an incredulous look and snorts.
“You’re full of shit, love.”
As having enough with me, she returns to the spot near the window. Remembering what Alexander told me, of how she would always stare outside, and the need to find out what has her so transfixed pushes me to ask, “What is outside?” She stiffens, and every second of her silence turns the air around us heavy with anguish.
“Memories, pieces of a future I’ll never have . . . you, me, life.” How the fuck didn’t I recognize the pain behind her aloofness? I grip my head between my hands, my breath coming in short pants.
“Of course, you will.” She tilts her head, and her lips curve up into a small smile, the one you give someone you think has said the most unrealistic thing possible.
Losing my patience with her, I reach her in two strides, cradle her face in my hands, press her against the nearest wall, and before she even has a chance to dismiss me, I slam my lips on hers. I kiss her long, devouring her moans. Her body flutters against mine as she locks her hands around my neck, and her fingers pull at my hair. She kisses me back with the same heat, knocking my breath away. In these moments, Bria feeds life inside of me. When she parts her mouth to my demanding one, I suck her tongue in and groan. She makes these sexy noises in the back of her throat that heats my blood. I grab her bottom, and she wraps her legs around my waist.
If this is wrong, why the hell does it feel perfect?
I cannot restrain myself around her. I am hooked on her. She lights a fire inside me no one else can extinguish. Loud moans and suckling follow like a tune as I ravish her mouth, and she claws at my back. We punish and love each other, each of us exposed to the other to detect the rawness, the regrets, and the passion we still have for each other. When she gasps for air, I nibble at her neck, not able to put her down.
She grazes her now swollen bottom lip, asking, “Why do we always have to end up like this when we’re alone? Something is definitely wrong with us.”
Her response brings a genuine smile to my face. It’s strange to sense the unfamiliar movements of my face muscles. I am not used to my lips curving into something other than a sour expression these days.
“Because we can’t hide anymore. We are too weak to control us.”
I keep grinning at her, and when she smiles back, m
y entire world bursts with light. She curls her hands around my neck and caresses me, easing the turmoil inside of me.
“I don’t want to fight anymore. I am tired, so weary you can’t even imagine it. You’ll always have these mixed feelings, and it’s not fair, not for you or me or the most important person in this messed up triangle . . . Monica.”
Bria plants a firm finger on my lips and shakes her head. I gnash my teeth but nod for her to continue with the nonsense. “She’ll be your wife, and you love her. You wouldn’t have settled for anything less. Me leaving is the best way, believe me.”
I place her down, sprint toward the table, and in an instant, rage engulfs me. I grasp her empty wineglass and hurl it at the mirror. It shatters into hundreds of pieces and scatters on the carpet.
“I don’t love her. I never did, I never will,” I shout and pace the floor, my hands tugging at my hair, blind to the wrath I unleashed—shards of glass crack under my custom-made leather shoes.
“Wait. What did you say?”
Bria’s mouth hangs open, and her brows arch. Her gaze fixes on mine, and she fidgets with the ends of her necklace, a reminder of happier times.
“We were pretending. I knew it would hurt you more to think I was involved with your cousin and planned to marry her. It was retribution. You always had this small reaction when you saw me with a woman, but you quickly put yourself together. So, I went even further and took her on board. I have never even touched her, Bria. I haven’t been with a woman since the last time I was with you.”
“Why?”
“Why what? Why haven’t I been with another woman since you?”
She nods, and I swipe a palm down my face.
“I can’t erase you from me, Bria. Why try only to fail for a second time? No one else can replace you. I did and said horrible things that night, but I swear, I hurt too fucking much inside, so I lied for my self-preservation.”
Her eyes probe mine, seeking the truth, and it guts me how I made the only woman I have ever loved doubt this much. “There was a moment when I wanted to do nothing else but beg you to accept me back. I was a coward, afraid you’d hurt me again.
“But even so, I couldn’t bury my feelings for you again. I stopped even looking at other women. I was always comparing them to you. I have never touched or kissed anyone the way I have you. Although I blamed you for everything, I never found in me the strength to remove the last remnant of you.” She tilts her head to the side, closing her eyes, shutting me out. “Please, look at me.”
Those glossy hazel eyes in which I catch my heart beating inside her chest find mine, and I cradle her face in my hands.
“I have loved only one woman in my entire life, and it is you. You were the first and the last. And you would have left so I can marry someone else? The person who set you up and had someone drug you.” She flinches, and shock and pain cross her face, her eyes rounding with surprise. “I never planned to stay with her, but you amaze me. Not even the numbness altered your goodness. What did you ever see in me?”
She puts her hand over her heart, eyelids drooped, and I place my hand over hers.
“It’s not fair. Why, just why?” The pain in her voice pierces not only my ears. I discard my jacket and toss it on the armchair. I gather and carry her to bed, lay her down, and then undo the first two buttons of my shirt, roll my sleeves up to my elbow, and climb in the bed next to her. Bria rests her head against my heart, and I stroke her back.
“I saw the video. I was in the barroom too. And I heard you share what caused your emotional numbness. Would you tell me about it?”
“About the baby?” There is a strange mixture of pain and excitement in her tone.
I nod. Although our baby’s loss had caused her so much pain, it feels good to talk and to hear her side of things—even seven years later.
BRIA
I close my eyes as I inhale his distinctive scent as I lay in his strong arms. Something resembling a moan leaves me as his fingers draw patterns on my back. I tilt my head and catch his lips, lifting in a wide smile. Every one of his features exudes ease. I enjoy this newfound peacefulness, but it is just a stolen moment as I remember I have a story to tell that will whip any trace of contentment off his face. The thought alone constricts my heart.
“I am sure I got pregnant when we were on the trip to the French Alps. I thought there was no way I would end up pregnant if I didn’t take birth control pills for two days in a row. I should have known better, though.”
“You forgot them, didn’t you?” A knowing smile spreads on his face.
It is hard separating the past from the present when I have a clear glimpse of the boy I gave my heart to shine through to the man he became. The one I still have the distinct feeling of being home with.
“Yes. I spent so much time planning the trip, missing you, and daydreaming about our mini-holiday. When you picked me up, I forgot them in my drawer, but I convinced myself I wouldn’t get pregnant.”
“I guess you underestimated my potency,” he says, lightening up the mood a bit.
“Your manliness hit me when my period didn’t grace me with a visit the next month. I bought five pregnancy tests, and they all turned out positive. I didn’t even freak out. Okay, maybe a little. But then I already felt protective of the baby. I had it all figured out. We had already agreed to move to London together, and I was planning to take online courses instead.”
Emotions dance in his steel-blue eyes, and my heart somersaults in my chest.
“You always wanted to be a young mom, and you’re right, we already had it all sorted out. You know I would have asked you to marry me, regardless. I had the ring on me, and with or without the baby, you would have become my wife. A baby would have been just a big bonus, and it would have given me a great story to tell.”
I roll my eyes at him. He would have definitely inflated the story.
“I am sure it would have been funny to hear you praise your potency and tell how you had to make an honorable woman out of me.”
He winks at me, and my insides melt. He’s dangerous to every cell in my system because somehow, they all react to him.
“So wise, baby. You know me too well. But first, we would have gone to our place, which I spent hours decorating for the occasion. Red rose petals led from the entrance to the oak tree. There were white, heart-shaped balloons. Only you saying yes was missing.”
My heart twitches for everything that was stolen from us. I swallow the lump in my throat and say, “Of course, I would have said yes. In case you have forgotten, I was impatient. And after five minutes, tops, I would have shown you the pregnancy test I carried in my purse.”
“Do you know what my next reaction would have been?”
I plead with my eyes for him to answer. And his features soften with his nod.
“I would have sucked on your lips, kissed every inch of your face, and then I would have sunk to my knees, and nuzzled your belly.”
Damien shifts from beside me. He settles between my legs, lifts the bottom of my shirt, and trails pecks on my lower abdomen. I put my hand on my mouth as fat tears blur my vision.
“I would have said, ‘Hey, buddy. Your mom just agreed to be my wife, and not only that, she gave me another great gift, you, little one. And I want to say welcome to the family, and we both love you very much and can’t wait to introduce you to our world.’” His voice cracks with emotions.
His tears wet my stomach, and my heart quivers. I thread my fingers through his hair. “You would have been a great father. I am sorry you never got the chance.”
His eyes land on me, and I chew on my lip until I peel a layer off.
“Why didn’t you say it the moment you knew for certain? Maybe . . .”
“I wanted to surprise you. I never imagined something like that could happen to us, and our world would crash in an instant. I decided to wait. This is my biggest regret. I could have prevented it all. I’m sure you would have flown back home right away, and that night wo
uld never have happened.”
A sigh parts my lips. “I was so tired most of the time. Mom thought I had caught something, but I kept assuring her I was fine. I wanted you to be the first one to know. It was between us, our little miracle. I wanted to have some time alone with you and the baby growing inside me. I had this crazy idea it would bond us even more if we kept the news to ourselves for a little longer.” I pause, my mind wandering to back then, but with a new perspective. Either way, it doesn’t hurt any less, even knowing the truth. “I didn’t even want to go out, but Monica made me feel like I was ditching my own birthday party. You were still in London until the next day, and Sophia and Filip were in Paris at the time scoping potential universities to enroll in. I didn’t understand why she insisted to celebrate with me when my birthday was two days away, and all of us would be together anyway. Now I know the reason.”
He crawls back from between me to his position beside me only to spoon me as my back leans on his stone-like upper body. He kisses the back of my head. “It was not your fault, baby. She’ll pay for what she did to us.”
“And what would that bring us? Because it won’t bring our baby back or us back together.”
He places his hand on my belly, and I notice his hand curl into a fist.
“I don’t have the energy to hate Monica for what she did. She is in love and has no idea I was pregnant.”
“Don’t find excuses for her, Bria. And you’ve had years to accept the loss of our baby. My grief has just begun.”
I unhook his fingers and kiss his knuckles. Like old times, the anger gives away, and my heart leaps at this one thing that hasn’t changed.
“I didn’t even drink. I was worried alcohol would harm our baby. I just had a few sips of wine, no more.” A shudder rocks me thinking I might have died that night if I had drunk more. He kisses my forehead, and I continue, “When I said my goodbyes to the girls, I thought I was tired because of the pregnancy. I remember bumping into someone on my way to my room, and then nothing. The next morning, I woke up to a thumping headache and slight dizziness, and you were standing there in front of me with a shocked expression on your face. I tried to find my voice again and ask what he was doing next to me, but it was like my vocal cords were knotted in my throat. When you stormed away without giving me the time to react, I thought you would never believe me again.” I trace patterns on his chest. The movements both ground and lull me to continue.
Shattered Love : A Billionaire Romance (Forever Us Book 1) Page 20
