“I’m sure you and Ems will have a great time.” Damion knocked back his drink, needing the relief that the alcohol would afford wounded pride.
“Do you remember that time we went to Canada on that prep school ski trip?” Daniel leaned forward, his eyes bright and eager.
Despite his jealousy, Damion couldn’t withhold the smile, which soon spread across his face. He did indeed remember the infamous ski trip. They had been thirteen and eager to take on the world.
The trio spent hours on the slopes, trying to master the skill of skiing. It, of course, came naturally to Daniel, who was soon speeding off over the tightly packed snow while Emma and Damion were falling on their asses. But back then there was no competitive edge between them. They wanted only to have fun.
“Ems twisted her ankle on the beginner’s slope!” Damion laughed at the memory. Thirteen-year-old Emma had been so embarrassed by her fall that she insisted the boys tell everyone that it had happened on a more experienced slope. Her bandaged foot meant that she had to spend the remainder of the holiday in the ski chalet with either Daniel or Damion keeping her company by the log fire while they drank copious amounts of hot chocolate.
“She was not impressed!” Daniel smiled. “I remember spending hours sitting in the damn chalet wishing I was out on the slopes! She can be so clumsy sometimes!”
As Damion focused on the memory, he recalled how Daniel soon stopped spending time with Emma inside the chalet, as he’d taken a fancy to a girl called Sophie from the year above. She was blonde and vivacious, and soon they were making out on the ski lift while Damion sat by the fire with Emma, trying to down his fourth hot chocolate of the day.
“Isn’t today Daniel’s turn to sit with me?” she asked, reaching out to scratch her injured foot. She regularly complained about how much it itched beneath its bandages.
“Is it?” Damion said dismissively. “We must have got muddled up.” He didn’t want her to know that Daniel had blown her off so that he could go make out with Sophie.
“He’s met a girl, hasn’t he?” Emma asked with dismay. He should have known that she’d guess what was going on. Emma was so smart; he could never keep anything from her.
“Yeah, some girl called Sophie,” Damion admitted.
“Sophie, urgh, what a stupid name.” Emma spat it out as she said it as though it left a sour taste in her mouth.
“He’s the one missing out,” Damion told her confidently. “We’re having all the fun in here!”
Emma rolled her eyes and glanced around the almost empty chalet foyer.
“I’d much rather be in here with you,” Damion told her sincerely.
“Shame Daniel doesn’t feel like that.” Emma sighed. “Anyway, enough talk about him. Let’s watch a DVD or something.”
DAMION DRANK THE LAST of his drink and felt his vision begin to blur as he realized that nothing had changed during the last ten years. Emma was still crazy about Daniel, and he was too selfish to see it. Anger began to make his cheeks flush as he imagined the pair of them in Paris, Emma lusting after Daniel while he had sex with some French girl he met in a bar. Emma deserved more than that.
“You schouldn’t be going to Paris,” he slurred his words as he angrily addressed his friend.
“I know, I wish I didn’t have to,” Daniel agreed, misinterpreting Damion’s sentiment.
“Sche still loves you, you know that?”
“Think it’s time we cut you off.”
“And you schtill love her; you’re just too schtubborn to see it! That’s schwhy you hate Nick so musch!”
“Okay, black coffee time for you.” Daniel took Damion’s empty glass from his hand.
“Don’t you miss her?” Damion turned and looked glassy-eyed at his friend.
Daniel sighed and patted him on the back. “You care about her, I get that. You always have. I knew it would be messy getting involved with her. Things got... out of hand.”
“You only left because you thought she was marrying Nick,” Damion accused.
Daniel ignored the comment.
“You still care about her. You still love her.” Damion’s body began to sway precariously upon the sofa, threatening to come crashing down to the wooden floor at any moment.
“Okay, time to go.” Daniel helped him up to his feet, letting Damion place almost all his weight against him.
“Hey, man, need me to call a cab for you guys?” a nearby waiter asked helpfully.
“Yes, thank you.” Daniel smiled gratefully.
“You need to tell her,” Damion lamented in his drunken stupor. “If I can’t have her, at least you can. But she deserves to be loved; you can’t just fuck her around.”
Daniel didn’t respond as he carefully maneuvered Damion down the staircase that led away from the VIP area. Each step was tricky as Damion struggled to find his footing.
“Just focus on getting to the cab,” Daniel advised.
“How could you fuck all those women in London when you knew she was here waiting for you?”
Daniel didn’t have a chance to respond, as they were now out in the cool evening air, patiently waiting by the curb for their ordered cab. The air made Damion feel increasingly intoxicated, and he swayed on his feet.
Daniel supported him as best he could while trying to ignore his drunken comments. He knew how both Damion and Emma saw him. They thought that he’d been off in London having the time of his life when in reality he spent his nights locked up in his hotel room getting drunk alone and watching the British version of The Office. He was miserable and nursing a broken heart, but he was too proud to let anyone know that. He volunteered to come back to America to sign Delacourt Designs. His reluctance was all for show. He had missed Emma. He’d missed Damion. He knew he’d been too hasty in his retreat from them, but the damage had been done, and he had to stand by his decisions.
“Just tell her,” Damion suggested. “Tell her you love her. You can still make it right.”
“And then where would you be?” Daniel smiled, hoisting Damion up so that he was standing straight. “You enjoy pining after her. I could never take that away from you,” he joked.
“I just want her to be happy.” Damion sighed as a yellow cab approached them, the driver warily eyeing Damion.
“He won’t throw up, will he?” he asked gruffly as he wound down the window and assessed the two men.
“He’ll be fine.” Daniel grinned as next to him Damion suddenly bent over and retched on the sidewalk.
“No deal.” The cab driver hastily began to wind up his window when Daniel placed an assertive hand upon his hood.
“I’ll give you five hundred dollars to take us home. That should more than compensate for any cleaning costs if he does throw up.”
The driver needed only a second to contemplate that proposal. “Okay, get in.”
Daniel bundled a drunken Damion into the back of the cab.
“I was sick,” Damion moaned.
“Just try not to do it again,” Daniel suggested. “As this is already the most expensive cab ride in history.”
“I missed you, man.” Damion leaned against his friend and closed his eyes. He was starting to feel tired.
“I missed you too,” Daniel admitted, but Damion didn’t hear, he was already fast asleep.
“Looks like you guys had a heavy night,” the cab driver noted, more friendly now that he was getting his incredibly inflated fare.
“Yeah.” Daniel sighed and glanced out of the window at the city streaming by. He remembered how Emma always said she loved the juxtaposition at night of the bright lights and the dense darkness. Sharp pain pinched at his chest, at his heart. He still loved her; he’d never stopped. But each time he thought about reconciliation he was reminded of the pain of learning she was considering marrying someone else, as though he didn’t matter at all.
Daniel gritted his teeth and pushed his feelings for Emma down into the recesses of his heart, refusing to acknowledge them. In less than twenty-four
hours, he would be leaving for Paris with her, and despite everything, he couldn’t help but be excited at the prospect.
EMMA SAT IN THE DEPARTURE lounge, clutching her hand luggage tightly as if it were a life raft. She scanned the gathering passengers around her but still saw no sign of Daniel, and time was running out. The flight was due to take off in less than an hour.
Sighing, she grabbed her cell phone from her pocket and checked her messages. Both Damion and her father had been in contact, wishing her a safe flight. Nick had sent her a picture of some cocktails, saying the only way to travel was inebriated. But nothing from Daniel.
“Come on,” Emma urged him under her breath. He’d insisted on accompanying her on the trip. Why let her down at the last minute? It was, after all, purely business, and Daniel loved anything business related.
“The four-fifteen flight to Charles Du Gaulle airport will be boarding shortly,” the female announcer declared over the loudspeaker, and Emma felt her stomach sink. Where the hell was Daniel Richmond?
“NUMBERS, NUMBERS, NUMBERS,” Nick moaned as he sifted through the pile of paperwork Damion had given him. “All I see is numbers. None of it makes any sense to me.”
“Give it here.” Damion extended his arm, took some of the papers, and glanced over them, wincing as he did so. His head still throbbed from the bucket load of liquor he’d downed on his night out with Daniel.
“Sore head?” Nick asked teasingly.
“I’ll be fine.” Damion coughed and tried to focus on the array of numbers that seemed impossibly small.
“Were you out with the prodigal son? Good night?”
“Yes.” Damion coughed again. “And yes.”
“I figured he couldn’t be all bad.” Nick smiled and then stopped himself from adding that there must be something redeeming about Daniel for Emma to be so infatuated with him. He knew it wasn’t what Damion would want to hear.
“These are all distribution requirements.” Damion handed the paperwork back to Nick. “Quotas that we have to meet.”
“I see.” Nick nodded and feigned understanding.
“Our job is to make sure the orders get placed and met in time,” Damion explained.
“Kind of like a middleman?”
“Sort of,” Damion replied uneasily. In Emma’s absence, it had fallen on both himself and Nick to handle the business side of Delacourt Designs and ensure that the fall line would be available for distribution by the end of the month. They’d managed to secure a lucrative deal with Macy’s, and Daniel’s company would be responsible for getting the line out in Europe. It was predicted that within twelve months, Delacourt Designs would be globally available, and they’d all be more than a little bit wealthy.
Damion could already see that things were progressing at a pace he was unable to meet. Once Emma returned from Paris, he’d have to have a very serious conversation with her about hiring new people, lots of people. Overnight they’d gone from a start-up venture to a flat-out business. He kept falling back on his college training in business studies to guide him through such an intensely challenging time. As exciting as it all was, he felt he didn’t have the time to stop and actually appreciate what was happening. Each time he checked his Inbox, twenty new messages appeared, each demanding his immediate attention. It was becoming all-consuming and exhausting.
“This is bigger than all of us now, isn’t it?” Nick pondered as he saw the troubled look on Damion’s face.
“Yeah.” Damion sighed. His cell phone pinged in his pocket, indicating a new email dropping into his Inbox. He didn’t have the energy to check it.
“It’ll all change when Emma gets back from Paris. We’ll have to get some serious business models in place. We’ll need offices and stuff, no more poring over paperwork on your kitchen counter.”
“Yeah.” Damion picked up his mug of now cold coffee and wandered over to the windows of his apartment. He welcomed the change in terms of the business. Having offices and being kept busy with Delacourt Designs had always been the dream. What he didn’t welcome were the impending changes between Emma and Daniel. He kept hoping against hope that the most romantic city in the world would have no influence over them, that it wouldn’t be the spark to ignite feelings that still existed. But a sense of dread hung over him that he couldn’t escape. A part of him knew that there was a very real chance that Emma and Daniel would return from Paris as a couple, and he wasn’t sure he could handle that.
PEOPLE STARTED TO LINE up and have their passports checked one final time before boarding their flight to Paris. Emma felt sick with nerves. She was a meticulous timekeeper and hated to be late for anything. As the line began to dwindle, she knew she had no choice but to join it. Daniel wasn’t going to show up.
Pushing her rage down deep inside, Emma got up, found her passport and boarding pass, and joined what remained of the line. Biting her lip, she held back the tears that threatened to roll down her cheeks. How could she have been so foolish to trust Daniel? Even in business matters, he was going to let her down. Clearly she meant nothing to him.
Someone joined the line behind her, sounding breathless. Turning, Emma couldn’t help but feel elated when she saw Daniel looking immaculate in a white shirt and dark jeans and freshly shaved cheeks. He smelled of cedar wood and soap. But as she turned to face him, she made sure she was wearing her sternest expression.
“Cutting it close, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Sorry, I got caught up with something.”
“Something or someone?” Emma replied bitterly, turning back round.
Daniel ran a hand through his gelled hair, ruffling it up slightly. He didn’t like letting Emma believe he’d been with someone, but it was better than the truth. The reality was that he’d sat out in the long-stay parking lot for almost an hour, deliberating whether he could actually go through with the trip. Finally, he summoned up the courage and ran into the airport, but it had almost been too late.
Despite his misgivings, he looked perfectly cool and collected, the image of the handsome professional who could handle anything.
Emma handed over her passport and boarding pass and then walked along the tunnel towards the waiting airplane, making sure to keep a fast pace to prevent Daniel from catching up with her.
They were seated in Premium Economy in two seats by the window. Emma checked her seat number. She was supposed to be in the aisle seat, but she loved looking out at the clouds, so she promptly placed herself by the window, shoving her hand luggage beneath the seat in front of her as she did so.
Daniel appeared a few minutes later. He put his own baggage in the overhead space and then glanced at his boarding pass. If he noticed that Emma was in his seat, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he slid in next to her and began to browse through the magazines detailing the inflight entertainment.
From the corner of her eye, Emma watched him read about what movies were being shown as she drummed her hands upon the armrest.
“So why were you late?” she finally asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.
“I told you, I got held up,” Daniel replied.
“What does that even mean?”
“It means mind your own business.”
Emma balked at the hostility of the comment and shrank back into her own seat. She knew that when Daniel left he’d been angry with her, furious even, but she hadn’t expected him to hold on to that anger.
“Drink?” a pretty airhostess in a red uniform appeared and offered them both a glass of champagne from the small tray she was carrying.
“Thank you.” Daniel flashed his million-dollar smile as he picked up a glass, and she blushed.
“And what about your wife?” the airhostess asked tactfully, barely glancing at Emma.
“Oh no, she’s not my wife. We’re not even together. We’re just colleagues,” Daniel corrected her, his eyes twinkling with charm.
“Oh.” The airhostess smiled and batted her eyelashes before remembering herself.
“Excuse me, miss, would you like a drink?” She edged the tray closer to Emma.
“No. Thank you,” Emma replied politely. She watched Daniel continue to flirt with the airhostess as she tried to hide her pain. How could he so callously refer to her as just a colleague? Were they not even friends anymore?
“JUST STOP THINKING about it,” Nick advised as outside it grew dark, and they’d only made a dent in the pile of paperwork that needed sorting.
“Thinking about what?” Damion asked absently.
“Thinking about the girl you love and her douche of an ex-boyfriend in Paris,” Nick replied simply.
“I wasn’t thinking about that.”
“Yes, you were. It’s all you think about.”
“You like getting inside people’s heads, don’t you?” Damion smiled wryly.
“Indeed I do. I majored in psychology for a time.”
“You went to college?” Damion’s eyebrows shot up.
“Woah, don’t sound so surprised.” Nick laughed. “Yes, I went to college. I even managed to graduate. Just because I come from the family I do doesn’t mean I don’t have aspirations of my own and things I want to achieve.”
“Sorry, I just...” Damion looked down at the countertop, embarrassed.
“Assumed I’d go in to the family business?” Nick finished for him.
“I guess something like that.”
“Do I strike you like that kind of guy?”
“No.” Damion shook his head. “You’re so... together. You know exactly what you want. Like if you were me, you’d be with Emma now. You wouldn’t sit on your feelings and let someone else wade in and steal her out from under you.”
“Yes, but I’m not you. And that’s a good thing,” Nick enthused. “You beat yourself up a lot, but you’re a sensitive guy. You should embrace that more.”
“Thanks.”
“Now quit moping and help me figure out this data. People, I get. Numbers, not so much.”
Designing Emma (Volume 4) Page 2
