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“You’re too innocent for him,” Anne says, no doubt taking in the change in my skin tone. “As I said, not every woman can handle a man like Damian.”
“I’m many things, but I’m not innocent.” I lost that a long time ago, even before I got my scars.
She regards me from over the rim of her mug. “Maybe you should get out while you still can.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Where there’s a will, there’s always a way.” She winks.
“What’s that about a will and a way?” a deep, familiar voice asks from the door.
I school my features before I turn. Damian stands in the frame, dressed in his habitual suit and tie. He looks fresh and well rested, not at all aching in places he shouldn’t be aching.
“Breakfast?” Anne asks him sweetly.
He doesn’t look away from me as he answers. “I’ve already eaten.”
“Too bad,” she says. “I was going to make pancakes. Are you sure I can’t change your mind?”
There are questions in his eyes as they roam over my body and pause at my hip, an unspoken demand for explanations, but in front of Anne he only says, “I have a meeting in ten.”
With a last evaluation of my face, he turns in the frame.
“Um, Damian.”
He looks back at me. “Yes?”
“May I please talk to you? It won’t take long.”
His answer is to step aside, letting me exit in front of him. Zane walks through the front door just as we reach the steps, dripping with sweat from his run.
“Dami.” His face lights up. “I need to talk to you about the quotes for the new irrigation system.”
“Not now.” Damian walks past him with long strides. “Lina’s beaten you to it.”
Zane shoots me an ugly glare. “Later, then?”
“Give the quote to Lina,” Damian says without looking back.
“But—”
“Save me the buts, Zane. You heard me.”
I follow him up the stairs while Zane remains at the bottom, staring at me with hatred. Does he know how thinly masked his jealousy is? I can’t say I don’t understand. Didn’t I have an inkling of that sickening feeling last night?
Damian stands aside for me to enter his study. Once he’s behind his desk and I’m in front, I feel more uncomfortable than I thought I would. I barely stop myself from wringing my hands together.
“How do you feel?” he asks, sitting down in his chair.
I clear my throat. “I’m good.”
He narrows his eyes as if he sees the lie. “You sure?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“If you need to see a doctor—”
“I don’t need to see a doctor for my throat.”
He steeps his fingers together. “We didn’t finish our discussion about the accident that knocked your hip seven shades of purple.”
“That’s not why I’m here.” I finally give in to the urge to clutch my hands together.
His gaze follows the movement. “Why don’t you sit down?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
His voice turns soft, almost encouraging. “What do you want to talk about?”
I clear my throat again. Damn, this is hard. I hate asking for money. I hate that my hands are so tied, I can’t even buy myself a box of tampons. “I, um, I was wondering if I could have a monthly allowance.”
He considers my request for a while before replying. “Why?”
“I need things.”
“Things?”
“Things I don’t want to ask from Jana or Zane.”
“Tell me. I’ll get it for you.”
“Personal things.”
“Lina, nothing between us is a secret, any longer.”
“Tampons,” I spit out, fisting my hands. “There. Think you can manage?”
“Sure.” He doesn’t as much as blink. “Size small, I presume? A specific brand you prefer?”
Doing what I promised myself I wouldn’t, I lose my cool. “Why make such an issue out of letting me shop for myself?”
“I don’t trust you.”
“To do my own shopping? I don’t need to be certified mentally healthy to buy my own damn toiletries.”
As much as my voice steadily rises in anger, his remains calm. “It’s got nothing to do with your mental health.”
“What then?” I exclaim in frustration.
“I don’t trust you not to use the funds in a feeble attempt at running.” His tone drops an octave. “And feeble it’ll be, because I’ll always find you, no matter where you hide.”
Chills rake over my body, not only because he doesn’t bluff, but also because there’ll come I day I will run. I don’t have a choice.
“My apologies for the shortsighted provisions,” he says in an oddly respectful way. “I should’ve thought about it sooner. I’ll pick up your tampons after lunch. Anything else you need?”
I swallow, mauling the words in my mind. No matter how I say it, Damian will take it as a sure victory. “Birth control.”
“You don’t.”
“Excuse me?”
“You don’t need birth control.”
“Why? Did you have a vasectomy?”
“No.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
I start shaking. “You want a child with me?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Tell me what you came to ask.”
