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Chapter Five
Damian
Something in Damian stirred at the sight of Abby. Some strange magnetism that made him want to see her and to touch her. It was the same feeling he’d gotten last night before he’d discovered she was a member of the family he so passionately despised. That was why he found himself at the Aldridge mansion. He had to look at her again in the light of day, knowing who she was, and prove to himself that he wasn’t attracted to her.
His experiment did not conclude as he’d hoped. He was still attracted. Damian mentally swore. He wanted to kick himself six ways to Sunday and back. Why couldn’t he just let it go? All he’d had to do was forget he’d ever met Abby. Forget she’d ever brightened his dull night and given him a reprieve from his many demons, if only for a few minutes.
“Mr. Coldwell. What are you doing here?”
He smiled. That’s the same question he was asking himself ...
And she did indeed look sweet enough to eat, with her long, vibrant tresses floating around her shoulders. Her porcelain-like skin took on a pink hue the longer she stood in the doorway, exposed to the cold air. Guilt clawed at him for having the lady outside in the cold, but there was no way was he about to set foot into the den of snakes, especially after the less than warm greeting he’d received from that hateful harpy, Celeste.
“Maybe, I’m here to prove to you that I’m not a pompous ass, or a slaver.”
Her skin changed from pink to red within seconds. It was sweet, the way she readily blushed. Perhaps she wasn’t jaded and cold-hearted like the rest of her clan. “I did not call you a slaver, Damian, and you know it.” She blushed harder. “May I call you Damian?”
To his annoyance, his heart was melting just a little in Abby’s presence. The thought that he should use the sweet Abby and discard her, just for kicks as further revenge on the Aldridge family, was starting to seem a bit cruel. Instantly, he hardened his heart. He wouldn’t get ahead of himself and fall for the innocence that she exuded. How did he know she wasn’t like her mother or sister?
“Sure.”
“Would you like to come in? It’s freezing.”
He looked over her shoulder into the spacious foyer. “No. Would you mind stepping outside?”
She glanced over her shoulder. He thought she would refuse, but she let out a breath. “Let me get my coat.”
With a single nod, he turned away and closed the door.
“What are you doing, Coldwell?” he asked himself. Try as he might, he couldn’t come up with a definitive answer. He really wanted Abby. He was curious about her. He wanted to find out why she’d shown up at his charity event. He wanted to use her to hurt the Aldridge family, in addition to taking everything they owned. Wiping a hand over his face, he exhaled long and hard, watching his breath form a white fog. What he should do would be to march back to his car and speed away from the reach of this entire family.
He was a twisted bastard, wanting the daughter of the man he hated, of the man he’d supposedly led to take his own life. Damian waited for the faintest bit of guilt to seep in. There was none. With a humorless laugh, he shook his head. What could he tell Abby? Hey, I know I ruined your father and indirectly killed him, but I think you’re cute. Want to date?
Laughter bubbled in his chest. Date. Since when was that a part of his vocabulary? He didn’t date. He had sex with women for kicks, so why did Abby make him think about dating? He didn’t get to analyze his thought because the door opened. Abby stepped out, a tiny ice princess in a black cashmere coat and matching hat and gloves. Curious eyes landed on him. “Well, I’m outside. Are you going to tell me why you’re really here?”
“I see there’s no beating around the bush with you.”
“Not when there’s a high probability of freezing to death. Spit it out, Coldwell.” Her mouth clamped shut, and she inhaled. “I … I mean. Please, just tell me why you’re here.”
Amused, he studied her intently, wondering why he found her feisty outburst such a turn on. He was disappointed when she seemed to reel her temper back in. He looked her straight in the eyes. “Fine. Why were you at my charity event last night?”
Cocking an elegantly arched brow, she looked every bit the haughty, rich princess. An Aldridge, he reminded himself bitterly. “I have a soft spot for kids. I hate the idea of them or anyone else going hungry. I heard about your event from a friend and thought it was a worthy cause.”
With narrowed eyes he searched her face, looking for the slightest hint of dishonesty. “Surely you know who I am.”
Again, the brow went up. “Damian Coldwell.”
“I bought your father’s company before he passed away.”
Abby didn’t even blink. “Did you? I know nothing about my father’s business affairs.”
Damian gritted his teeth. If the woman was lying, she was damn good. He found himself hoping that she really was ignorant of what transpired between him and her father. “So, you made a donation last night, did you?”
“Of course. I didn’t show up just to look pretty, Damian. It was a charity event.”
“With what money? I believe your family’s financial situation is ... precarious at the moment.” He waited for that temper he’d gotten a glimpse of to erupt. For her to break character…if she was, indeed, acting.
Abby’s chin jutted out. “With my money. Is this how you show your benefactors your gratitude? My family’s financial situation has nothing to do with me. I’ve been out of the loop for years. I only came home when I received news of my father’s death. Pardon me for taking the time to grieve before delving into the family’s financial state.”
