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Chapter Seventeen
Damian
Damian’s anger seeped away as he took in Abby’s tear-stained face and puffy eyes. His eyes trailed over the discoloration marring her cheek. The fury that swept through him was incredible. Stamping down his rage, he took hold of her chin and tilted her head to study the bruise. If he wasn’t mistaken, there appeared to be the outline of fingers on her skin. Gritting his teeth, he demanded, “Tell me who did this.” He was ready to murder anyone who dared to hurt Abby. It was funny, since he was out to do more damage to her than a physical blow.
She pulled out of his grip, and he scowled harder. “It doesn’t matter. Why are you here?”
His brows shot up. “I believe we had a date. I called you several times without an answer. You were supposed to meet me …”
“Oh, no,” she said. “I’m sorry. I forgot.” She shoved her fingers through her hair. “I got caught up.”
“With whoever put that bruise on your face?” He stepped closer, to kiss her, or demand she tell him who put their hands on her. He wasn’t sure which but he froze. Sitting on Abby’s couch was someone he was neither thrilled nor expecting to see. “What’s she doing here?”
Elaina stood up and tilted her chin. “I’m her sister. I have more of a right to be here than you do.”
Bristling with anger, his gaze swung to Abby, whose shoulders were hunched. She was darting her eyes warily between him and Elaina. Once again, reining in his fury, he said, “We’re leaving, Abby.”
“Excuse me? You’re ordering me out of my own home?”
Damian’s jaws clenched. He couldn’t stand to spend another minute in the same room as the conniving Elaina. “Just get your coat and let’s go. Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder again.” Her mouth opened to protest, and he growled. “You stood me up. You’re going to make up for that.”
“You are so …”
“Arrogant. I know. You’ve mentioned it several times.” With one more hateful look directed at Elaina, he stepped back into the hallway. He fully expected Abby to obey unless she wanted to face the embarrassment of being carried out.
He didn’t have to wait long. She appeared minutes later wearing boots and her coat, along with a pout that made him smile. The drive to his place was quiet, and he didn’t bother striking up a conversation. Abby seemed to be a world away and he wondered why he hadn’t left her alone. His fingers formed a death grip around the steering wheel when he realized that it was because he wanted her with him. He craved her company when he was supposed to be losing interest by now. Analyzing his feelings were too much for him just then, so he refrained further mental dissections.
Abby was quiet even on the elevator, but she finally spoke when she stepped into his penthouse apartment. “May I?” She nodded towards the mini bar, which he kept fully stocked.
“Of course.”
Damian loosened his tie and sat down on one of the curved, beige sectionals to watch her. She moved around his place with an air of familiarity. She’d gotten accustomed to both his house and his apartment, and he found that he liked having her at his place. She approached with two glasses and handed one to him. He accepted the glass and when a whiff of his favorite bourbon filled his nostrils, he smiled. “Thank you.”
“I noticed that’s what you always drink.” She returned with her own faint smile and sat beside him.
“Observant,” he said. “Now, tell me about your evening. What in the world happened to you?”
“I didn’t come home with you to talk about that, Damian. I’m here because you ordered me to come and partly because I was afraid you and my sister would kill each other.”
Damian scowled and threw back his drink. After a few minutes of silence, he rose. “You will tell me what happened to you, Abby.” He had to know. He cared too much about her, and it frightened him. “I’m going to take a shower, and when I get back, you will talk.”
“Must you take that Lord of the Manor approach all the time? News flash, Damian, you’re not my ruler. I don’t have to talk to you about anything.”
Knowing that his next move would grate on her nerves, he hid his smile and playfully tugged her hair. “It’s cute that you think you can disobey me, Querida. But, you know I always get my way because I am Lord of the Manor.”
Her eyes flashed pure fire, as he knew they would. It was comforting to see that she wasn’t as defeated as she appeared. With a taunting laugh, he left her alone, but he caught the hissed insult she threw his way and laughed harder.
As soon as Damian closed the bathroom door, his amusement vanished. Wiping a hand over his face, he took a deep steadying breath. His final act of vengeance was underway. There wasn’t supposed to be any guilt. So, what was going on with this irritating show of conscience?
“Damn it all to hell,” he said and whipped his phone out of his pocket.
Joe answered on the first ring. “Damian.”
“Joe, I’m sorry for calling this late.”
“Not a problem. What’s going on? Should I be in lawyer mode or friend mode?”
“Both,” Damian said.
