DAMIEN (Slater Brothers Book 5)

by L. A. Casey

  “Everyone lies about somethin’.”

  “I’ve told one lie regarding you, and it’s the biggest lie I’ve ever told and my biggest regret.”

  I could hear my heartbeat in my ears.

  “What was the lie?”

  Damien blew out a breath. “Are you ready to hear this?”

  No.

  I barely managed a nod.

  “The biggest lie I’ve ever told was that night in Darkness when I told you I didn’t want to keep you.”

  It’s not that I can’t keep you, Lana; it’s that I don’t want to.

  My heart slammed into my chest, and my mouth dried up. Words that had haunted me for years, were suddenly untrue and held no meaning. I didn’t know how to process that.

  “You didn’t know it would span into this.”

  “No,” he agreed, “but whether it was for days or years, I still hurt you, and I hate myself for that.”

  I frowned. “Well, I don’t hate you.”

  The look of surprise on Damien’s face was one I’d never forget.

  “You don’t?”

  “Damien,” I began. “If I truly hated you, then I wouldn’t have been so upset over everythin’ that happened between us. I’ve just been mad at you, at the situation. That can seem like hate sometimes, but it was just anger.”

  “Was anger or is anger?”

  “I’m not sure.” I swallowed. “I know you’re sorry for everythin’, you’ve said it enough times and showed it enough since you came back, but I just can’t click me fingers and pretend everythin’ is okay. I wish I could, but I can’t.”

  “It’s okay,” Damien said, licking his lower lip, his eyes never once straying from mine. “I’ve got the time to wait for you to decide.”

  I blinked. “To decide what?”

  “Whether you want to be with me.”

  The moment I opened my eyes that morning, I was aware of the events from the day and the night before. I had left my apartment after being cooped up for seven days on the trot, and in the few hours that followed, my life had once again been turned upside down. Damien had kissed me until I couldn’t see straight, he fought Dante, again, I found out my ma had breast cancer, and Damien, of all people, was the one who stayed the night with me just so I wouldn’t have to be on my own.

  I was in a permanent state of confusion over that man.

  I had gone from not knowing what he wanted from me to him flat out saying he would wait for me to decide if I wanted to be with him or not. To be in a steady relationship with him. He told me he lied when he said he didn’t want me when we were eighteen. The words that haunted me day and night for years were suddenly untrue. Or at least he said they were. I was still in a state of shock over it all. I didn’t know how to process what he was saying ... what he truly wanted.

  It didn’t feel like it was real.

  Once upon a time, Damien saying he’d wait for me would have made my entire life, but I wasn’t a kid anymore. I wasn’t as carefree, and my heart was not new to the game. When I first met Damien, I had never been kissed, I had never had sex, and I had never come close to feeling love for another person. I was confident I didn’t love Damien back when I was eighteen, but I knew I had been falling in love with him when everything turned south between us.

  I felt something for him, something big. I wouldn’t have been such a wreck over him for the past few years otherwise.

  Damien left my apartment long before I woke up, and I had to admit, I was more than a little relieved. When I came into the kitchen and saw a sticky note stuck to a plate cover, I picked it up and smiled when I scanned my eyes over the scribbled words.

  I’m going home to get showered before work. You needed your rest, so I didn’t want to wake you, but I did make you some food. Eat it. I’ll see you later – Dame x

  The schoolgirl in me wanted to squeal at the kiss after Damien’s name, but the woman in me kept her in check. I didn’t want or need hope where Damien was concerned. I couldn’t think about what he said to me; I had to focus on the bigger problem of my ma having cancer. Before I ate the breakfast Damien cooked for me, I called my ma.

  “Mornin’, love,” she answered on the third ring.

  “Mornin’,” I replied. “How are you? Are you okay? Do you feel sick? I’m goin’ to come by and—”

  “Bear,” Ma cut me off, chuckling. “I’m fine, baby.”

  I grunted. “No, you aren’t.”

  “Okay,” she conceded. “I’m not okay overall, but right now, at this very moment, I feel good.”

  I gnawed on my lower lip. “Do you promise?”

  “I promise, bear.”

  My lips twitched at the nickname. “I’m still goin’ to come by and see you later.”

  “After you interview that person for your assistant job?”

  I nodded even though she couldn’t see me.

  “Yeah,” I answered. “Damien helped me prep for what I want to ask the lad last night so I’m as ready as I’ll ever—”

  “Hold the phone.” Ma cut me off again. “Damien helped you last night?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, mentally kicking myself for letting that slip.

  “It’s not a big deal, Ma.”

  “It bloody well is,” she stated. “Weren’t you ’ere just yesterday tellin’ me you were sleepin’ with Aideen’s big brother, and Damien fought ’im over it ... and now he was with you ... at nighttime?”

  I had to force myself not to laugh; my ma sounded so excited over my drama.

  “Ma—”

  “Did you sleep with ’im?”

  “No,” I said, incredulously. “What kind of woman do you think I am?”

  “One with a healthy sex drive?”

  At that, I did laugh.

  “Nothin’ happened.” I chuckled. “I told everyone that you were ill, and I got a little upset, and he stayed the night with me. In the spare room, I mean. He just wanted to be there for me. He didn’t give me a choice either; he just said he was stayin’, and that was that.”

  Ma squealed. “That’s cute!”

  “Most mothers would encourage their daughter to call the guards if a man she was at odds with just stayed the night at ’er apartment without ’er askin’ ’im first.”

  “When have I ever been like most mothers?”

  I thought about that for a moment, then I snorted. “Never.”

  “Exactly,” Ma said, and I just knew she had a grin on her pretty face. “Besides, if you really didn’t want ’im to stay, you would have told ’im so, and from what I know of ’im, he would have listened.”

  I sighed. “I hate when you make sense.”

  “You get that from your da.”

  I gritted my teeth at the comparison.

  “Yeah, I suppose.”

  “Call me after your interview.”

  “I’ll do you one better,” I said. “I’m stoppin’ by.”

  “Alannah, I promise you, I’m feelin’ fine.”

  “I know,” I said, picking invisible lint from my pyjama trousers. “I just need to be around you. It’ll make me feel better.”

  “Okay, bear,” Ma said. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  After we hung up, I ate my breakfast, then rinsed my plate and placed it in the dishwasher. I showered, dressed, and in an effort to be presentable for a business interview, I straightened my hair and applied makeup. I sucked at makeup. I had a bunch of products my friends made me buy, but I used maybe three of them when I decided to wear something on my face. I wanted to use all my goodies, but I didn’t have the skill needed to apply them. I’ve watched thousands of YouTube tutorials, and eventually, I realised I watched those videos because I liked watching people transform their faces, rather than wanting to learn from them.

  I carefully applied primer and foundation to my moisturised skin and used a little sponge to gently buff it in until it looked somewhat natural. As natural as makeup could look anyway. My hair kept falling into my face, so I pushed it back, but
not before I laughed at the contrast of my hair to my skin. I had jet black hair and fair skin.

  The only patch of skin that wasn’t fair was the light brown freckles that sprinkled over my nose and under my eyes. Freckles that were now hidden by my foundation. I applied the setting powder and filled in my eyebrows as best as I could. After adding some mascara, a tiny bit of contour to my cheeks, and a dust of bronzer to warm my face up, I was good to go. My lips were naturally pigmented, so I never put anything other than lip balm on them.

  After changing my outfit four times, I settled on wearing the only business suit I owned. It was a tight fitting grey skirt suit that my parents had bought for me a few years ago when I started looking for a job and wanted to be presentable at interviews. I was so pleased it still relatively fit.

  The zipper on my torso didn’t close all the way anymore, but I knew that was because I had gained a little weight over the years. If twenty-five pounds was considered ‘little’. After I was ready, I stared at myself in the mirror. Tugging on the waist-length blazer, I wished it was longer to cover the shape of my hips.

  I was no Bronagh Murphy.

  My friend had an hourglass figure, and I didn’t. I wasn’t sure if there was a name for the body shape I possessed. My chest wasn’t large, but not small either, and my waist was smaller than my hips but not by much. My hips were a little wide, and my thighs were “thick”. That’s what Nico had said when I once mentioned in his presence how much I hated the size of them.

  “Thick” was apparently good, but I didn’t think so.

  I felt like I would be a whole lot happier with my body if I didn’t have love handles. My body was a huge factor in why I almost didn’t hook up with Dante considering how toned he was. I had always been insecure about it, but Dante had assured me that I was sexy, and my body was “spank bank” material.

  I wasn’t sure if I believed him about that, but he worshipped my body when we were together, and from the look in his eyes when he saw me bare, I knew he wasn’t lying about finding me sexy. I wish I saw what he did, but I didn’t. Gnawing my lip, I grabbed my phone and decided to FaceTime Bronagh for her opinion.

  Nico answered, his smiling face filling my screen.

  “Hello, gorgeous.”

  I clicked my tongue. “I’m tellin’ Bee you called me that.”

  “Go ahead. She’d agree with me.”

  My lips twitched.

  “Where is she? I need her opinion on me outfit.”

  “Is my opinion worth nothing?”

  “No, ’cause you’ll just tell me I look pretty.”

  “You are pretty.”

  I smiled. “Where is me mate at?”

  “Bronagh!” Nico hollered. “Alannah is on the phone wanting your opinion on her outfit.”

  I cringed. “You have a big mouth.”

  “Loud is the only language Bronagh understands.”

  I laughed, and not long later, Nico’s handsome face was replaced with Bronagh’s beautiful one.

  “Hey, how are you? Are you okay? Do you want—”

  “Bronagh,” I cut her off, chuckling. “I’m doin’ okay at the moment.”

  “And your ma?” she asked. “Have you spoke to ’er at all today?”

  “Yeah, and she said she was okay, too.”

  “That’s good.” Bronagh nodded. “That she feels good, I mean.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “So?”

  I grinned. “So?”

  “What happened with Damien last night?” she asked, wasting no time. “Not knowin’ has been killin’ me.”

  “Nothin’ happened.”

  “Alannah!”

  “What? Literally nothin’ happened. I cried all over ’im ’cause of me ma, then he helped me get questions together for me interview. He was gone when I woke up this mornin’.”

  Bronagh frowned. “I thought he might kiss you or ... somethin’.”

  I didn’t want to know what the “something” was.

  “He kissed me when I got me car from the garage yesterday so—”

  “What?”

  I jumped at the volume of her shout.

  “Damien kissed you yesterday?” she asked incredulously.

  “That’s my boy!” Nico hollered in the background.

  I groaned. “I called you for your opinion on what I’m wearin’ to the interview, not to talk about Damien.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Yo, anyone home?”

  Alec.

  “No, go away,” Bronagh hollered. “I’m in the middle of an important conversation.”

  Bronagh had twisted the phone so I could partially see Alec when he entered her kitchen with Georgie in his arms. I could only see her chubby legs, but I could hear her babbling away at full volume.

  “I’m returning your offspring. Her diaper is full.”

  “And you couldn’t change it?” Nico asked, taking his child.

  Bronagh shifted the phone and I could see Nico kiss all Georgie’s face, making her squeal in delight.

  “Could have.” Alec shrugged. “Didn’t want to.”

  “You are the ‪Monday morning’ of people, Alec Slater.” Bronagh scowled.

  “Wrong!” he quipped. “I’m clearly a Friday!”

  “Ha!” Bronagh’s laughter taunted. “You’re the furthest from a Friday!”

  “Your words,” Alec said, clutching his chest in mock pain. “They wound me.”

  My friend stalked towards him, the camera showing me her legs as her hand dropped to her side.

  “I’ll feckin’ wound you!”

  From the angle I could now see, Nico hooked an arm around her waist, careful to avoid her belly, and drew her against his body, grinning over her head at his older brother.

  “Let me go!”

  “Nope,” Nico replied, popping the P. “You’re pregnant, and he needs to be alive to witness the birth of his first child.”

  Bronagh almost growled.

  “Fine,” she relented, “but he won’t live long enough to conceive the second.”

  “That’s fair enough.”

  “Hello?” I sighed. “I’m still ’ere, ye’know?”

  “Is that Lana?”

  Alannah.

  “Shite,” Bronagh said then scrambled as she lifted the phone up so I could now see her face, and Nico’s chest as he stood behind her. I could hear Georgie, but I couldn’t see her. “Sorry, Alec came in and annoyed me.”

  I grinned. “That is his talent.”

  “Bite me, Ryan,” Alec hollered.

  I snorted as I flipped the camera on my phone and aimed it at my body-length mirror.

  “Honest opinions, Bee.”

  “Holy shite, Alannah,” she whistled. “You look like a sexy librarian.”

  “Shut up.” I flushed. “I don’t.”

  “She’s not lying, Lana,” Nico chimed in, then Alec said, “Well, fuck me sideways, you look downright sinful.”

  I flipped the screen back around to my face, but before I could call the lads on their bullshit, Bronagh said, “Your makeup is so pretty!”

  My mood lightened.

  “D’ye think? I tried me best with it.”

  “You look beautiful.” My friend beamed.

  I hesitated. “I don’t look overdone?”

  “No, you’re the one interviewin’ the bloke for a job. You look like the professional woman that you are.”

  “A professional hard-on inducing woman.”

  Bronagh thumped Alec for me.

  “I’ve to go, but I’ll stop by on me way home.”

  “You better,” Bronagh warned. “We have a lot to talk about.”

  I nodded. “You got it, boss.”

  We said our goodbyes, and before I knew it, I was in my car and driving into town. I kept repeating what I had practiced asking over and over in my head while glancing at the applicant’s name on the front page of my papers. Morgan Allen. Then I had to repeat the name over and over so I didn’t forget it when I
first met him. An hour after I set off, I was sitting inside a relatively large café, sipping on a cup of tea.

  I yawned for the sixth time as I waited for Morgan Allen to show up for our interview. It didn’t start for another fifteen minutes, but I was hoping he’d show up early just to get the meeting over and done with. I was nervous. I had never interviewed someone to work for me before, so I was acting purely on instinct when it came to the questions I had prepared. I scanned through the questions I came up with Damien for an unknown amount of time, then I took out my travel sized pad and began sketching when a shadow fell over my table.

  “Miss Ryan?”

  I looked up from my sketchpad and audibly sucked in a breath when my eyes landed on the fine specimen before me. The man or god—he really looked like a Greek god—looked down at me with violet eyes. Logically, I knew there was no such thing as violet eyes, but this man’s iris pigmentation was so light, I couldn’t call it any other colour. I stared at him and his eyes for a long time, so long that he cleared his throat and reached up and awkwardly scratched his neck.

  I felt my cheeks stain with heat.

  “Y-yes?” I stammered.

  “Hey.” Violet Eyes smiled, revealing straight pearly white teeth. “I’m Morgan Allen, I’m ’ere for—”

  “The interview,” I finished on a nervous chuckle. “Of course, I’m so sorry for bein’ weird and starin’ at you; it’s just ... you have really bright eyes.”

  “They’re freaky lookin’, right?”

  “Freaky lookin’?” I repeated. “Try bloody cool. Are they contacts?”

  Morgan shook his head.

  “Nope, they’re me natural eye colour, believe it or not. They’re like this because there is little to no colour in me irises, so it looks like a shade of violet. It’s a genetic defect. I’m pretty much a mutant.”

  “I wish I had a genetic defect that would give me violet eyes,” I mumbled. “All I got stuck with was webbed toes.”

  Morgan laughed. I didn’t know if he was laughing at me or not, but I didn’t want to know.

  “I got them fixed when I was little,” I rushed. “They look just like regular toes now. No more webbiness.”

  “Webbiness?” Morgan quizzed, looking at me like I was that weirdly deformed dog that nobody wanted at the shelter.