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20Chelsea“A business trip? With you? For the entire weekend?”
Damon nodded. He was leaning casually against my desk. He’d stripped off his jacket and had the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled up below the elbows.
Unfortunately, I was very aware of how tanned, muscular, and strong his arms looked. I swore, men’s forearms were like cleavage, except no guy ever got slut shamed for whipping out those meat sticks in public. No. Forget the fact that forearms like Damon’s could’ve served as industrial grade lubricant for a room full of women—they didn’t have nipples, so it was okay to flaunt them.
“Are you alright?” Damon asked. “You look pale. More than usual.”
I glared. I’d be okay if you put those things away. And if I could stop remembering how it felt to have your big ass, strong hands gripping my waist while you bent me over.
Why was it I couldn’t remember one of the two items I went into the grocery store for, but I could vividly remember every minute detail about sleeping with Damon five years ago? It still felt like another life. If Luna wasn’t walking proof that it had happened, I might not even believe it anymore.
“I’m perfectly fine. But why me?” I asked.
“You’re my personal assistant. I may need assistance in Savannah.”
I opened my mouth to protest but couldn’t think of a valid argument. “What about Luna? I still haven’t even got my first paycheck, and I can’t ask my brother to watch her for that long.”
“I’ll cover the expense. You can pick any nanny you want. Or we can pay your brother for his time. But I need you on this trip.”
I’d been half turned in my chair, but I fully gave him my attention then. “You need me?”
“Professionally speaking. Yes.” Damon’s dark hair was neatly cut and pushed away from his forehead. As always, he looked like the picture of a man in his prime. He practically radiated health and sexuality, and I felt equal parts drawn to going anywhere he asked and compelled to run as fast as I could.
“Call me crazy,” I said. “But it feels like the only things you’ve asked me to do since I started here are meant to annoy me. So do you actually need me, or do you need an outlet for your endless supply of spite?”
“I don’t have time to babysit your ego. If you want to keep your job, you’ll be ready to board a plane with me at noon tomorrow. Just give me the name of whoever you need to watch Luna and I’ll make sure they’re compensated.”
Damon left me at my desk to glower at nothing in particular. What a dickbag.
I still didn’t buy it, though. Some degree of his personality was an act, and I was determined to prove it. I felt like I needed to know more about this woman who supposedly turned him so cold.
As far as I could tell, he’d sworn off sex, relationships, and compassion. What makes a guy do something like that?
Once I was sure he was back in his office—he was, because I could hear his deep voice through the door as he berated someone over the phone—I pulled up my internet browser.
I typed “Damon Rose breakup” into the search bar. Before I even finished typing the query, it auto filled with “Damon Rose breakup Trish Jameson.
Trish Jameson… I copy pasted her name into a new tab and pulled up an image search.
Beautiful. Of course she was beautiful. She had dark hair and looked flawless, even in candid paparazzi shots. She had an upturned nose, high cheekbones, full lips, and boobs that didn’t appear to have been introduced to gravity yet. I wanted to roll my eyes.
Very typical, Damon. Did you pick this one out of a magazine?
I switched over to looking the woman herself up. Apparently, she’d been one of the first agents he hired on. The article I was reading had an earlier picture of her, probably from around the time she started working for him. She looked beautiful before what must’ve been her recent hobby of plastic surgery visits. I decided to give Damon a little more of a pass for his taste.
She’d started working for Damon only a few months after he and I met five years ago. They dated, things got pretty serious, and then in some kind of blowup, she managed to leave Rose Athletic with most of his biggest clients. Surprisingly, it was just like Dick had said, but no matter how much I searched, I couldn’t seem to find out why they’d broken up or how she managed to walk away with his clients.
I leaned back in my chair and threaded my fingers behind my head.
Hmm. What happened, Damon? Whatever it was, I decided a weekend trip was probably going to be my best shot to dig the information out of him, one way or another.
