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The Denton name carried far and wide, getting him out of a few scrapes over the years. His father had always made sure that he could live up to the threat.
Damian didn’t like the thought of another man touching his woman, and this was his. “What’s your name?”
She shook her head.
“Look, I’m not going to harm you, okay? I’m not going to hurt you, or force you to do anything. My name is Damian Denton.”
“Am I supposed to know what that means?”
“Usually everyone does.”
She frowned. “I don’t know you.”
“You were hanging out with Ivan.”
“Not willingly.”
“Ugh! Fine, just know that it’s a name that commands respect. I won’t hurt you, and I will take care of you. You’ve got a kid, right?”
“Yes.”
Something was going on between this woman and Ivan, and he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like it. She clearly wasn’t in love with the guy. He’d seen the emotions dancing across her face while dealing with the bastard.
“Where is he?”
“I, erm, I paid a neighbor to watch him.”
“What did you want to go and see Ivan for?”
She frowned. “He’s made sure that no one will hire me. I want a job, and I want to take care of my son.”
He noticed she said, “my son” and not “our son”, meaning Ivan.
“I’ve got a daughter myself. So fucking cute.” He pulled out his wallet, and stared at the picture of Betty and Martha. The pain was still there. When it came to Betty he was so filled up with guilt. She had witnessed his brothers’ love with their wives, and she’d known there was no chance of her ever getting that from him.
This woman in front of him, she was his without a doubt in the world.
“What’s her name?” the woman asked.
“Martha.”
“Is that your wife?”
“No. She was my girl’s mommy.”
“Was?”
“She’s dead. Killed herself.”
“Oh my, I’m so sorry.”
He nodded. “What I’m trying to tell you is that I’m not going to hurt you. I’ve got a kid, and for the most part I’m a good guy. Nothing bad is going to happen.”
She licked her plump lips, and he saw her take a breath, her shoulders lifting as she stood tall. “I’m Mia Banks.” She smiled. “I really need to go back in there.”
Gritting his teeth, he glared at the door that she had come from, and sighed. “You don’t need to. Do you even like the bastard?”
“No, I hate Ivan. I’m doing this for my son. I want to earn a living, and I’m struggling.” She pointed at her tits. “I need money to buy formula, and to live, and he’s taking everything away from me.”
