by Mara Lynne
“Candice’s tummy is growing bigger rather faster than one can imagine.” The smile on his face shows great expectations for the pregnancy, and Angel sees nothing of the Damien Etheridge she used to know. Gone is the immature prankster. Gone is the boy who’d endlessly follow her from the school cafeteria to Max’s. The old Damien is gone.
But here standing before her is a man thrilled of becoming a father and for the responsibility of a married life.
And she has to be happy for him.
Him leaving her has been a great thing for him, she thought. Damien would not have grown into a man if he stuck around her. She would have not seen this side of Damien if she stopped him that day from leaving Jersey.
She should be happy, right?
She should. Yet she couldn’t.
“Do you have a name for him?”
“Not yet. I haven’t thought about that yet.”
Her chest is already pounding, and her heart is squeezing with some unfamiliar emotion. What does she have to do to rid of it? It doesn’t feel good, and she wants to divert herself from it before the air gets cut off her body, and she collapses in front of Damien.
It is not physical pain. No. It’s far from being sick though she feels exactly like that.
He studies every minute changes on her facial expression. Her eyes lose their spark every time she asks him questions, and the more he tells her about Candice and his unborn child, the more they appear distant.
Is she jealous? Does she feel sad about this?
But he couldn’t just blind himself with assumptions, could he? What if Angel has truly detached herself from him that she could spare no emotions for him? What if she was able to teach herself to feel nothing for him? What if he’s just expecting too much? He could be overanalyzing things, couldn’t he?
Her phone rings, and she readily picks it up from the couch.
“Hunter?”
Damien buries his face in his hands as soon as Angel turns her back on him to answer the call. He feels so stupid, and he doesn’t know why. Is it because he keeps on talking about Candice and his child in front of her? Or is it because he could not say the things he longed to tell her?
Which is which, you fool?
“Yes, he’s here,” Angel answers the phone, and she turns around to face him. She walks toward him and hands over the phone. “Hunter wants to speak with you. He said you’re not answering your phone.”
Damien notices redness in her eyes. Did she rub them?
Slowly, he takes her phone and places it right on top of his ears, not leaving her face for a full minute.
Was she crying?
He can’t be wrong. He knows how Angel looks when she cries. He has seen her shed tears many times. But not too long, she cuts his view by looking away to the open field, not thinking of looking back to him until she gets rids of the surging emotions within her.
She was caught off guard when tears started to pour out as he listened to Hunter’s voice through the receiver. She had no idea why she cried. No, it could not be because of Damien.
“My phone’s dead,” he tells Hunter. “I’ll call you back.” He then hangs up.
Angel has her back on him, and he has no idea what she’s looking at. The mountains beyond the high-rise buildings? The gate?
“Angel?” He has to say something. He has to ask her why she cried. What upsets her? What makes her act like this—like something is bothering her—like she’s pushing down something that is horrible, something she does not want now.
“Yes?” When she faces him, a smile is plastered on it like a poster on a wall.
His foot reacts by moving one step forward, but Angel is quick to move back.
“No, Damien!” Her head shakes from side to side. “No.”
She does. She still loves him, Damien realizes. He feels his shoulders lighten, and his chest was freed from a heavy burden.
Her words mean something else. It’s not being wary of him. She cried because she’s afraid she’d open her heart for him once more. It’s not yet gone, and her eyes are good messengers.
“No,” she says again, fighting off tears. “Just no.” Her will forces her lips to form a smile. “You should leave now. Hunter had someone to collect your car from the bar. It’s outside.”
Oh good Lord, what has he done to her?
Chapter 10 –Selfless No More
Mr. Harrison and three other corporate men unexpectedly pay Hunter a visit, so he has to cancel his meeting with a Russian diplomat and reschedule it tomorrow. Harrison is calling for a rise in action.
Expressing his utmost disapproval with James Etheridge’s decision, he brought along with him shareholders who hold quite important roles in the board of trustees.
“I’m afraid that it is not only me who shares this worry, Mr. Stone,” Harrison says. “Since the news broke out, almost sixty percent of the employees have expressed opposition to it.”
Mr. Grint, an English stakeholder, red head and very tall, speaks as he swivels his chair to face Hunter. “I don’t think Damien is ripe for the role. He will need a lot of time before he becomes capable to sit as chairman of the board.”
“He will never be right for the role,” Mr. Zawadski interjects. He is short and a little plump, with a mole in between his cleft chin. “If he takes over, what kind of cataclysm will befall upon us? The boy is yet a boy, and I don’t think he’ll ever grow up.”
“You are becoming prejudiced, misters,” Hunter says. “My brother is a bright fellow. With the right training, I’m sure he’ll keep the boat afloat.”
“If only we are a boat.” Mr. Tinley, a well-built man who probably was very handsome in his prime years, laughs. “But we are a ship. I don’t want my experience to be that of the Titanic. Supposed golden maiden voyage, and in just one night, sank at the bottom of the freezing Atlantic.”
“What we are trying to tell you, Mr. Stone, is—” Mr. Harrison leans over, intent to persuade the man in front of him—“take it away from Damien. You are qualified for the spot. And we can’t be more relieved if we know it’s you taking over.”
It’s not an easy task to decide on the matter. After all, these gentlemen around him know the business very well, and they came to him to tell him their opinion about Damien. He is very pleased that despite being the illegitimate son, people in the higher rank of the hierarchy actually prefer him over the legitimate son. They see him as someone capable and best for the role.
“It’s still my father who has the last say about this, gentlemen,” he says. Even though he badly wants the seat, he just can’t take it away from Damien. A miracle must happen first before he can have it.
“But what do you think about this, Mr. Stone?” Mr. Grint asks. “I’m sure you’re very troubled. You know for yourself that you are the right man for the job, and yet your ailing father chose that inept brother of yours. No offense to James, but he was literally out of his mind when he made that ridiculous decision.”
“I’m not sure about Damien being incompetent. He is just young and inexperienced,” he replies. He truly appreciates the young lad’s potentials, and here he is, defending them from this council of wise men. “Given the opportunity to prove himself, I’m sure he will change your minds.”
Mr. Tinley speaks, this time his voice a lot higher and firmer. “I did not invest my money in this company only to be managed by an inexperienced juvenile. If this happens, I might as well sell my shares.”
Hunter knows that rival companies are very much interested to buy shares in his father’s company.
“Calm down, Mr. Tinley,” Hunter says. “The decision my father made is agreed upon by the family.” Though he is obviously forced to just submit to it. “While my brother acts on his duty as the new CEO, I will oversee his actions from time to time. I will make sure he does the right thing.”
“What are you? Some advisor now?” Zawadski is sure not pleased.
“Yes, and I will see to it that Damien gets the proper training. I wil
l not leave him behind until he’s proven his worth.”
It’s the pledge of brotherhood. Or better yet, the pledge of capitulation.
“This is ridiculous,” Tilney hisses, burying his back against the chair.
“If you are going to do just that, why don’t you just build a consulting agency?” the pissed-off Zawadski mutters.
“Gentlemen, I am offended by the way you see my brother.” He stands from his seat, appearing domineering and intimidating. “I thank you for the good words and the confidence you have in me, but I shall not tolerate this unfair judgment against Damien. He’s my blood. An insult to him is an insult to me.”
Zawadski, Grint, and Tilney look at each other, guilty of Hunter’s accusation.
“So you really have no plan of assuming the power from him,” Harrison speaks.
“I am no usurper, Mr. Harrison. Although not as big as the Etheridge fortune, I have my little business to keep me busy and content for the rest of my life.”
“Surely you don’t mean to say you’re letting your father’s business go to drain?” Grint comments.
“That will not happen.” As confident as he looks now, he was not like that just a few days ago.
“Whatever you say, Mr. Stone, we still believe you are most worthy to succeed your father.” Harrison lays down his final card. “You’ve got our support, just in case you change your mind.”
They are hell bent to get him into this. Morally, he thinks being happy in a situation like this is definitely wrong. His brother’s dignity as an Etheridge will be put to question if he joins their plan, but he secretly likes the idea. Finally, after all these years of waiting and patience, he had earned massive support, and these people are ready to back him up. It’s only his principles that are blocking him from taking action now.
“To strip Damien off the business rights, we are going to gather support for you from the company,” Harrison continues. “A campaign of ten thousand signatories! If we reach that target, we’ll file a complaint to your father, and Damien will beyond doubt give in to our demands.”
“He should. He will be ashamed if he doesn’t,” Tilney adds.
“I don’t think I could do that to my brother,” Hunter says, suppressing the sense of triumph.
“Damien will not know that you heard from us about this. You won’t be blamed in any way. It’s the employees who want this and not you, Mr. Stone. You don’t even have to do anything,” Harrison asserts. “Therefore, you should not feel guilty for his misfortune.”
Whether he likes it or not, it seems like there will be forces behind his back willing to do the dirty work for him. It’s ‘purely business’ as Harrison calls it. Reacting ambiguously and not doing anything to stop it does not connote approval from him.
The thing he wants in the whole universe will be his, as promised to him, and this he cannot and should not reject. He doesn’t even have to exert effort for it.
He can only be sorry for Damien.
However, he’s a man of his word. He will act upon his promise and work for him while others work for him. Isn’t that convenient?
***
“Mr. Stone, sir?” A worried Paul follows him behind as he trudges along the long corridor to his office.
“What is it, Paul?” he asks as he relishes the feeling of floating in the heavens.
“Er…” Paul stutters. “I think I should warn you about someone who, by all means, took advantage of your absence to enter your office.”
“And what did my secretary do?” Turns out his delight is short lived. It disappears as soon as Hunter realizes the impending mess he will have to face before long.
“She was threatened,” Paul says. “You know how they are, sir. Even I am afraid of her.”
“Shall I cancel your next appointment, Mr. Stone, sir?” Paul questions once he reaches the foyer to his office.
“How many minutes do I have?” Fixing his tie and stretching the sleeves of his undershirt, Hunter heaves a deep sigh.
“Twenty minutes. Can you work on her for that short?”
“I can manage that.”
Hunter slides the door open and closes it behind him as soon as he crosses the doorsill.
There, Candice stands with her hands on her waist, blending in with the female goddess statue beside his desk, her baby bump protruding like a balloon. It isn’t that big yet, but in comparison to her skinny arms and legs, it is showing.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of you having here, Candice?” He keeps his voice as calmly as he could.
“Oh please, Hunter, enough of your sweet talk,” Candice says as she turns to face him, giving him a provocative grin. “I think I would find your tongue sweeter if it does what it does best.”
“Unfortunately, I had enough of that engagement, Candice.”
“Right. With you marrying the Virgin Mary, I thought she has done an immense deal of taming you. But I pray that you do not lose your rowdiness in bed. Surprisingly, I miss those days.” She ends her flirty comment with a chuckle.
“Can’t my brother quench your eccentric thirst?” He struts toward her with no sign of intimidation whatsoever. When they’re only a foot away from each other, she looks up to him, admiring those piercing set of eyes which she wishes to ogle every detail of her skin, fantasizing to lay her hands on his muscular arms and to ravish his defined jaw.
Oh, those days… she could only imagine.
“Damien is amazing,” she replies. “But he’s not you.”
“That’s quite sad.”
“Just a little,” she mutters.
“Does he even know you’re here?” His eyes look down at her baby bump.
“No. Why would I tell my fiancé that I was going to cheat on him?”
He snickers. “That I’m not sure about.”
Extending her arms around his neck, she bites her lips, dreaming its Hunter’s lips she is nibbling at this moment. “Well, if you’ll impose…”
He pulls back, breaking the intimate connection between them.
Her mouth releases an annoyed laugh. Since when did Hunter reject her advances? For all she knows, she used to be his favorite play doll. He was hers at one point. How could Hunter rebuff her just like that?
“Are you really serious about this girl, Hunter Stone?” Her eyebrow arches.
“I believe I don’t have the duty to answer you.”
“Isn’t she just like one of us? What kind of witchcraft did she use on you?”
“Something that you and the others don’t have. Now, are you satisfied?”
Clearly, she isn’t. She will never be satisfied unless she gets what she wants, and she’s very far from that yet.
“She seems to be a nice girl. Not the usual girl you’d hire under your belt. Are you now obsessed with submissives?”
His control is slowly wearing thin. One more word from this woman, and he’ll drag her out of his office no matter how ungentlemanly it would appear to others.
“She’s not that kind of woman, Candice.” He hopes she gets what he meant by that.
“Oh, you know what? When we were together, I thought of exploring something darker…” She leisurely walks to his direction. “Something that is beyond extraordinary…” Her voice changes from sweet to aggressively threatening. “Something you’d be ashamed to tell anyone but never ashamed to do with me…” Her palms explore the vastness and hardness of his torso as she delights herself in his scent.
Hunter catches her hand. “Have you gone crazy, woman?”
“No, I am perfectly sane. Have you?”
“I would have if I let you execute your plan.”
“Then I’d rather have you lose your reason,” she responds.
He cuts in, looking so annoyed as rage flows through his veins. “GO BACK TO DAMIEN,” he says, emphasizing everything word by word. “Concentrate on the family you’ll have.”
Candice steps backward, tucking her hair behind her ear.
It has been a long day for her,
but she thinks she has accomplished her objective for the day. Nothing pleasures her more but to see Hunter all fired up.
“You know it’s a boy,” she says while she reaches for her coat and purse on top of Hunter’s desk. “Do you think it will be nice if I name him after his father?”
“I don’t care. Ask Damien about it.”
The edge of her mouth curves and the glint in her eyes seem to differ from him.
“My oh my, you’re not very supportive. Baby boy will not like it,” she says before she walks to the door and leaves.
Chapter 11 – Intercepted
His keen eyes run along Damien’s back. There are no signs of redness or infection around the sizable scar on his back as Eric inspected.
“You look fine,” Eric says under a short breath.
Damien pulls the hem of his shirt down.
Eric notes on a piece of paper the medical tests he did on Damien, scribbling on another sheet of paper new instructions and handing it over to Damien.
“What’s this?” Damien asks as he pulls a chair from an adjustable hospital bed.
“Apparently, you are not following the instructions I left for you, so I made you a new one.”
Damien quickly runs down the list.
“There’s not much change in here,” he mutters.
“Number nine.”
He reads out loud. “Get laid so often? What is that?”
“You just need one of those,” Eric responds matter-of-factly. “There’s no need for Vicodin, I’m afraid so.”
“What a heartless doctor you are, Eric!” Now he does think the flesh around his wound stings.
Shaking his head, Eric thinks the pain Damien feels is not physical… at least not anything caused by a biological cause.
“It’s all in your mind, Damien. Perhaps what you need is a companion who will fill in the emptiness in your life. Mind you, Vicodin is very lethal. Yes, it does take away the pain, but it will tear you into pieces when on withdrawal, much the same feeling you’ll have when a woman leaves you for another man.”
Eric has a strange way of putting humor in his sermon. It doesn’t even sound like a reprimand anymore. A tease is what one can make out of it.
