by Leslie Kelly
Well, his mother had certainly explained what was going on, but Viv wasn’t leaving because of Sylvia. She was leaving because it was best for Damien.
Maybe they’d find their way back to each other. Maybe he’d survive this mess and not come out of it blaming her. But for now, the best thing she could do for him was to get out of the way, let the bad publicity die down. She had to hope sanity would prevail and Bruno Neeley would not be able to twist any of this around on Damien and cost him control of the Vanguard.
“No, it doesn’t,” she said.
“Because she’s all kinds of messed up, Viv.” He let out a long, low breath. “Some of the things she told me, well, you wouldn’t believe it. I’m not sure I do.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah. I will be, anyway.” A harsh laugh. “Probably better than she expected me to.”
She heard voices in the background, and then Damien asking for another minute. Things were obviously crazy down there.
“I should go,” she said.
“Please don’t,” he said. “Viv, wait for me. I’ll take you to Pennsylvania tomorrow.”
She heard the longing in his voice, and the pain. And she almost changed her mind, almost gave in and decided to let the chips—and the companies, and the families—fall where they may.
But she just couldn’t do it. Damien didn’t deserve to be ruined because he’d had the misfortune of getting involved with a woman who invited, to use his mother’s favorite word, catastrophe.
“No, Damien. I’m sorry.”
“Give me a half hour. I’ll come up and we’ll talk. Just don’t go yet.”
She sniffed, starting to cry, sensing her resolve weakening. “Please don’t try to talk me out of it.” She swallowed, not trying to hide her misery. “I’ll miss my train. I have to go, Damien, and I’m begging you to let me.”
After another pause, he finally sighed. When he spoke again, he sounded resigned. “When will you be home again?”
“I’m not sure.” Her brain was scrambled. “I may request a leave of absence from work.”
“You really need that?”
“I really do.”
“I’ll arrange it.”
“Thank you.”
He didn’t respond for a long moment. The silence was thicker than the band of scar tissue she hoped would someday build around her heart, to seal in all the emotions she had for this wonderful man, and to keep out any painful ones that might threaten to invade in the future.
Finally, to her relief and her great sorrow, he gave in and stopped fighting her. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”
“I will.
“In fact, let Jed take you to Union Station and put you on the train. Will you do that much for me?”
“All right. Thank you.”
Another pause. An ocean of unspoken dreams, and she wondered how this could have become so damn complicated. Then again, she supposed, love always was.
She was about to hang up, wondering if they’d exchanged their last words, when he made a small noise. After it came six whispered words that shattered her heart completely.
“You said you wouldn’t leave me.”
And the call disconnected.
* * *
DAMIEN SPENT THE rest of the day, and much of the next, in a fog of denial. He wasn’t just brooding over the incredible story his mother had told him when he’d demanded the truth about why she resented him, but also about Viv’s shocking and sudden departure. He’d never been so blindsided in his life—and it had happened twice in the space of a few hours.
“Why did you go?” he mumbled Friday evening as he poured himself a drink at the penthouse bar, smelling roses and her perfume.
At first, still stunned by the bad news hitting him left, right and center in terms of the business and the team, he’d misunderstood. He’d thought she was only leaving early, but she would expect him to show up the next day. But she hadn’t invited him. And when he heard what she was actually saying—the way she made it sound as if she might not be returning—his confusion had deepened.
It had been all he could do not to race up to the penthouse to stop her, but there’d been the strangest tone in her voice. She’d sounded...brittle, hanging by a thin thread. Aware of how close she was to her parents, he could only assume that her second phone call with her mother had instilled a deep hunger in her for their comfort and support.
He had to take her at her word that she wanted time, even though he was incredibly impatient and wanted nothing more than to go up there and be with her. Hell, he hadn’t had the chance to reveal to her the amazing truth he’d learned about his life.
Worse, he hadn’t had the chance to tell her he loved her.
He did love her. He was certain of it now. Which was, in the end, why he’d been able to let her go.
Because he knew—down to his soul—that he would get her back.
Of all the things his mother might have expected when she’d spilled her guts, it probably hadn’t been that her ugly story would have the opposite effect than she’d intended. That was, though, what had happened. When he’d sat down and examined the sad, tarnished truth, he’d realized she’d been wrong. So very wrong.
Damien was capable of love, of commitment, of a lifelong devotion. Just as his father had been.
They were both just one-woman men, however. That lifelong devotion would only ever be directed at a single person.
His father had lost that person.
Damien didn’t intend to. He’d witnessed his father endure a lifetime of regrets; Damien wouldn’t make the same mistake by letting Viv get away.
“Are you actually going to drink that or are you just going to stare into the glass?” Sam asked, gesturing toward the Scotch Damien was holding in his hand.
Against his better judgment, he’d allowed Sam to come up for a drink that evening. They’d talked about the legal issues, and Sam had insisted that Damien stop worrying about any threats from Bruno Neeley. Especially now that the hotel security tapes had gone to the police, proving beyond any doubt that Bruno had brutally attacked Viv, and Damien had saved her.
Damien hadn’t watched the tapes. He didn’t suppose he’d ever be able to. Just the memory made his stomach churn.
Aside from the security footage, they had the video that clearly showed what had inspired the slap at the press conference. Sam was confident that Neeley’s threats and bluster would go nowhere. There was no risk of Damien being sanctioned by the league, and almost no chance Damien’s investors would try to wrest control of the franchise.
He might really have cared about all that a few months ago. Now, he could barely remember to thank his old friend for the hard work he was doing.
“Listen, I wasn’t sure how to tell you this, but now that the business stuff’s over with, there’s something you should be aware of.”
Damien swirled his glass, listening to the tinkle of the ice. “Yes?”
“It’s about Johanna.”
He eyed his friend from across the room. “Are you two...?”
“I’m not sure what’s going to happen, but she did come to visit me earlier today.”
“I was under the impression she’d left with my...with Sylvia and Morgan.”
Sam shook his head. “She said they got to the airport, and your mother confessed to doing something that made her furious, so she left. She had to talk to someone, wasn’t sure you’d be in the mood to see any of your family, and came to me.”
Interesting. And perhaps a wise choice. He didn’t blame Johanna for Sylvia’s actions, but his sister had been right there, front row center, during the awful, embarrassing scene with Viv. Johanna could have refused to come crashing in on his life, but she’d always been a bit of a busybody and probably hadn�
��t been able to resist.
“So what did she say?”
Sam studied his own drink, not meeting Damien’s eye. “Were you aware that your mother came up here to confront Viv yesterday?”
“Christ, don’t remind me. What a scene.”
“No,” Sam said carefully. “I mean later. While you were in meetings downstairs.”
Lowering his glass and slamming it onto the coffee table, Damien stared at his friend. “Tell me that’s not true.”
“I’m afraid it is. She let it slip to Johanna, about how she’d taken care of the issue with the ‘slut trying to sink her claws into you.’”
Damien swiped a hand through his hair, angry, frustrated, even a little hurt that Viv would let his mother drive a wedge between them. Then again, Viv had been in an incredibly vulnerable state. And Sylvia could be...a powerful force.
“I should have guessed,” he snarled.
“Yeah, she’s not the type to let her son’s feelings stop her from doing what she wants.”
He could have given Sam the whole story—what he’d learned that had so changed his perspective on his life and his parents—but he was too focused on Viv. “What did she say to her?”
“Johanna seemed to think your mother told Viv you were on the verge of losing the business and the team, and that you were facing lawsuits and financial ruin. All because of your ‘disgraceful’ relationship with her.”
Shock and anger charged through him. Damien leaned forward and swept his glass completely off the table, sending it careening into a wall. It shattered, sending shards of glass, ice and Scotch all over the floor. But he ignored the mess, leaping to his feet and reaching for his phone.
“You okay?” Sam asked, his eyes wide as he surveyed the damage.
“I will be,” Damien snapped. “I just have to get ahold of Jed and make some travel arrangements.”
Sam put his glass down—carefully—and stood up, reaching for his coat. “So you’re going after her?”
“Of course I’m going after her.”
Sam nodded, visibly pleased.
“I thought you didn’t approve.”
“Any idiot can tell you’re crazy about her, Damien. And, as you’ll remember, considering I dragged your ass through Calculus...I am no idiot.” He clapped Damien on the shoulder. “Good luck, my friend. Go get that girl.”
Damien extended his hand to shake Sam’s and nodded his thanks.
And then went to get that girl.
12
KEEPING BUSY WAS the best cure for heartache.
Viv had learned that over the past two days as she’d thrown herself into preparations for her parents’ thirty-fifth anniversary party. She’d managed to avoid checking her phone every five minutes, or daydreaming about the man she wished would call. Instead, there were favors to wrap, baked goods to prepare, pictures to put into a slideshow.
Keeping busy was her parents’ defense mechanism, too.
Arriving here Thursday evening and noticing their too-bright smiles as they’d greeted her at the train station had been incredibly hard. They’d tried to keep up a happy front, as had she, but the moment her father had moved in for a hug, they’d all started crying.
She’d spent a lot of time talking to them since then, explaining exactly what had happened. They’d of course watched the news coverage—God, everyone at the party would have. But her mom and dad, and her brothers, were the only ones who knew the actual details.
As expected, the men in her family wanted to travel to Virginia, bail Bruno Neeley out of jail and kick his ass straight to the Atlantic Ocean. Fortunately, she’d convinced them that justice would be served, and that Damien had punished him quite thoroughly.
Damien. Oh, his name had brought up even more questions. Her brothers were persistent. But her mom got them to shut up and leave Viv alone about him, as if realizing that the real cause of her sadness and melancholy was him, and not the attack.
“Hey, are you guys almost finished in here? People will be showing up soon,” a voice said.
She looked down from the ladder, where she’d been hanging the last of the streamers, and smiled at her brother Joe, who had just walked in carrying another bunch of balloons.
Andy, who’d been working on setting up the computer equipment for the slideshow, stood up and walked over. “Yeah, I’m done. Viv?”
“Finished here,” she said, starting to climb down.
Another brother, Neil, appeared from around the corner and grabbed her around the waist, swooping her down. Viv forced a laugh, hoping he hadn’t noticed the way she’d stiffened. It would be a long while before she wouldn’t react with a quick flash of fear when somebody grabbed her unexpectedly.
“Everything’s great, V,” Neil said, dropping an arm across her shoulders.
She stared around the banquet room with an assessing eye, agreeing with him. The place was no Black Star—the lodge was decorated more along the lines of hunting-cabin chic than international high fashion. Still, the room was prettily decorated with yellow-and-white streamers and balloons, and tons of fresh mums. A blown-up print of her parents’ wedding portrait decorated the gift table, and the cake was an exquisite creation hand-delivered by her cousin, who owned a bakery.
“Guess we’d better put this stuff away and get ready,” Joe said, taking the nearly empty streamer spool from her hand. He squeezed her fingers. “It’s awesome to have you back, Viv.”
She leaned up and kissed his cheek, hearing all the things he wasn’t saying. Her brothers might have reacted with storm and bluster, but deep down, they were all worried about her. She knew they wanted nothing more than her happiness.
She hoped someday she’d be able to accommodate them. Happiness seemed a distant commodity right now. Maybe eventually things would get better. Maybe she’d stumble across a news story about Damien’s business surging back, his team winning the championship. Perhaps he’d walk through a door as she was coming out, and they’d bump into each other, and start all over again. Fresh this time, no scandals, no stalkers, no risks.
It was worth dreaming about, anyway.
“Hey, Viv, you might want to get out here.”
As her brother Aidan stuck his head into the ballroom, she replied, “Why?”
A strange grin appeared on his face. “You have a visitor.”
Evan joined him, winking at her other brothers, who’d formed a semicircle behind her. “Yep. He’s definitely here for you.”
“Who is it?”
Aidan and Evan exchanged a glance, and then Evan said, “Uh, his name is D—”
“Damien?” she whispered, her heart thudding.
Aidan shook his head, and her spirits fell, her silly hopes dashed. “No, that wasn’t it. I’m pretty sure it’s Danny.”
He still wore that goofy grin, and Viv frowned at him. “I’m not familiar with anybody named Danny.”
“You know this guy. Or at least, he knows you.” He walked over, grabbed her hand and dragged her with him.
“What is going on?” she demanded.
Ignoring her, Aidan continued to pull her forward until they reached the hotel lobby. Stopping, he put his hands on her shoulders and directed her toward the check-in desk.
A man stood there, facing away from her, talking to the clerk, who was smiling at him and batting her eyes.
Viv’s heart skipped a beat. Despite the strange clothes—dark, crisp jeans rolled up at the ankle and a white undershirt with what seemed to be a pack of cigarettes rolled up in the sleeve—she recognized that tall form. The thick, dark hair was slicked back, and he had a black leather jacket slung over his shoulder, but oh, God, did that look like...
“Damien?” she whispered.
He must have heard that tiny sound. He turned around slowly. Their star
es met and locked.
It was really him. He’d come for her.
He’d put her ahead of his family, his team, his business. His presence here proved that, despite everything he’d said from the day they’d met, Damien Black was definitely good at the relationship thing.
Maybe even the love thing.
Oh, God, did she hope that was so.
Joe gave her a nudge. “Go on.”
She took a tentative step closer. There was nothing tentative about Damien’s actions, though. He strode toward her, not stopping until he’d pulled her into his arms and caught her mouth in a hot, searing kiss.
She melted into him, stunned, filled with joy, kissing him again and again. Oblivious to everyone around them, including her brothers, who were probably hovering protectively behind her, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed hard against him, proclaiming with each hungry kiss how much she’d missed him.
She’d left for what she’d believed were the right reasons, but in this moment, she couldn’t remember what those reasons were. When Damien held her, nothing else mattered except him. Them.
Finally, a throat-clearing sound intruded. She made herself end the kiss. But she stayed close to him, her arm around his waist, as his was around hers. Addressing her brothers, she said, “Everyone, I’d like you to meet...”
“Wait, lemme guess,” Aidan said. His eyes alight with mischief, he stuck out his hand. “Danny Zuko, I presume?”
The comment reminded Viv of Damien’s strange outfit. Stepping away, she studied him, top to bottom, and then started to giggle. Because she suspected Aidan was right.
Seeing Damien Black, international businessman, suave billionaire, dressed up as a 50s greaser in a hotel where everyone else was wearing normal clothing, tickled every funny bone in Viv’s body. She began to giggle, then to laugh merrily.
“I was under the impression this was a costume party,” Damien said, his jaw tight. He stared at her. “Where’s the black leather and the chick fro?”
“I said my idiot brother wanted us to have a Grease-themed costume party. Not that we were stupid enough to actually do it.” She reached up and slid her fingers through his slicked hair. “Though I must admit, the duck’s-ass do suits you.”
