AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Damien seemed different, even though I didn’t know him that well.
We never had serious conversations because we constantly danced around our mutual need for space. But maybe it was time for that to change. I hadn’t slept with anyone else since I’d met him a month ago, and I wondered if he had either. If I asked him, he would probably tell me.
I texted him. I’d like to make an appointment, please.
He responded right away. Sorry?
A dick appointment. Is your dick available tonight?
The three dots never popped up, and a moment later, he called. His tone was playful when he spoke. “He’s available whenever you want, Annabella.”
“Ooh…it’s like a warehouse club membership.”
Now he actually laughed, deep and sexy. “Without the annual fee.”
“Even better. So?”
“I actually do have plans tonight. But I’m yours the rest of the night.”
I wanted to know what his plans were, but I refused to ask. “What time?”
“Probably ten. I can come to your place on my way home.”
“You wouldn’t rather go to your house?” My apartment was little, and let’s be real, it was a dump. He practically lived in a mansion.
“Why would I?”
“Well…my place kinda sucks.”
“It has a bed, doesn’t it?”
I liked that he didn’t care, that he wasn’t pretentious and judgmental. Liam didn’t refrain from calling my place a shithole. “Where are you going this evening?” I was tired of all this incognito bullshit. If we were going to continue seeing each other, I didn’t want to be mysterious all the time.
He answered right away, like he had nothing to hide. “The ballet.”
“Really? You don’t seem like you’d be a fan.” The second I said that, I realized he might have a date. Perhaps he was taking a woman there. It was odd that he made plans with me immediately afterward, and it was even odder that he might intend to sleep with both of us.
“I’m not,” he said with a laugh. “I’m just going to watch my sister.”
“She’s a dancer?”
“Yes.”
“Aww…that’s so cute.”
“I’m not cute. It’s an obligation.”
“Sure.”
“You wanna get laid or not?”
“Now I wanna get laid even more.”
11
Damien
My father opened his program and squinted his eyes. When he couldn’t read a single word, he fished his glasses out of his jacket pocket. “They make the writing on these things so damn small…” The glasses were placed on his nose, and he could decipher the page. “Catalina is in nearly the entire production.”
My sister was quite talented, not that I would ever tell her that. “That means this will suck.”
“Damien.” He continued to scold me like a child because he seemed to lose track of reality sometimes. I was in my thirties, but sometimes he thought I was still a dumb teenager, sneaking girls into the house.
“I’m teasing, Father.”
He shut the program and gripped it in both hands, as if he intended to put it on the fridge when he got home. My mother had been gone ten years, and he’d been alone ever since. I offered to let him live with me, but he refused. Catalina offered the same thing. He was just too proud.
But age claimed his body more with every year, and since he was older when they had me, he was now in his midseventies. He couldn’t live alone much longer, and I knew he would prefer to live in a home than burden me with his presence.
But Annabella was right. My place was awfully big for one person.
“What’s new with you, son?” He turned his gaze on me, crinkles around his eyes and the loose skin on his face. He’d aged pretty well, but for the last few years, his appearance had taken a steep dive.
“I’ve been working a lot.” He knew I owned the bank, but he had no idea about my side hustle.
“You should be working toward finding a wife. The bank won’t always be there for you—but a good woman will.”
I let my father say whatever he wanted because, you know, he was my dad. “True.”
“And you need children. You’re getting old, Damien.”
“You’re one to talk,” I teased.
He raised his finger at me. “But I have you and your darling sister. When your mother was gone, I still had you. I’d have no reason to live otherwise.”
Conversations always turned to discussions about mortality. Death seemed to be the number one thing on his mind. “I’ll work on that.”
“You better.” He lowered his hand.
I would work on it tonight, actually.
The lights dimmed and the curtains opened. The sound of piano filled the theater, and the first dancer to hit the stage was my sister. Lean and toned, she moved across the stage on her tiptoes, her arms raised in the air with perfect posture. When she stilled, there was a pause in the music, but once it returned, she started to spin, to jump, to command the hearts of every person in that audience.
