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She must’ve seen Blood Diamonds. She should know better than to base her assumption of the business on a movie.
“Yes.” Let her think that or whatever she wants. The somber details of my life are not their entertainment.
“I admire you.” There’s not a drop of admiration in her voice. “I can’t resist bling. So, how did Damian convince you to wear the ring?”
“Incentives.”
“What?”
“He has the most effective incentives.”
Tony coughs. “It’s getting late. I think we should go.”
Belinda launches into a long explanation of the family birthday party they’re attending tomorrow, who’s going to be there, and what they plan for lunch. It takes her twenty minutes to say goodbye, and then I’m alone in the dining room. Laughter comes from the lounge, accompanied with a waft of cigar smoke. Someone tells another joke. More laughter. No one will miss me if I sneak off to Damian’s room. If I go through the kitchen, I can make it unnoticed. I’d hate for anyone to see the evidence of what Damian and I had been doing on my dress. Getting through the stares during dinner was humiliating enough.
Keeping my back to the wall, I make it to the entrance without being spotted, but my luck runs out on the staircase. I’m halfway up when Zane comes down. I glance at the double doors of the lounge. From this angle, no one can see us. The look on his face makes me tense. He drank too much during dinner. He looked at Damian a little too much, too. Anyone clever enough to pay attention would’ve discovered his secret.
When we reach each other, I try to dash past, but he grabs my wrist in a painful hold. The best defense is attack.
“They shouldn’t be smoking,” I say. “There’s a baby next door. You’re the housekeeper. Go tell them to smoke outside.”
“The parents left with their baby as soon as Fouché lit up.”
“How rude of him.” I pull on his grip. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“That’s none of your business.”
He squeezes harder, hurting my bones. “You’re the hostess. Go back down and see to your guests.”
“You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
He inches closer, invading my personal space. “Don’t believe you’re suddenly something because you’re wearing a diamond necklace. You’re still Dami’s whore.”
“Let go.”
He does, only to fold his fingers around my neck. It’s a bold move. If someone exits the lounge, he’d be caught. I consider screaming, but he’s squeezing too hard, cutting off my air and pressing the sharp little corners of the diamonds into my skin.
“This is what’s going to happen,” he grits out. “You’re going to leave.” He lets go with a shove.
Grabbing the rail to steady myself, I gasp for air.
He’s not done. He twists my hair around his fist and yanks me closer. “What will it take to get you to leave? Huh? Tell me.”
My scalp pricks. The pain makes my eyes water. “The evidence.”
He narrows his eyes. “That’s it? The evidence?”
“If I have the evidence, I’ll be gone.” He can have Damian all to himself.
His lip curls in one corner. “No money?” His gaze trails to my neck. “No diamonds?”
“I don’t want Damian’s money. Help me find the evidence, and you’ll be rid of me once and for all.”
“I don’t think so.” He shakes his head, pulling me closer by my hair and whispering in my ear, “Dami will find you. Then he’ll kill you.”
“I guess it’s a chance I’ll have to take.”
Laughing softly, he lets go. “Don’t mistake that kind of possessiveness for attachment. You’re just the new toy, but like with all his toys, Dami will grow tired of you.”
“Why would he want to keep me if he’ll grow tired of me?”
“Dami doesn’t like for anyone to have his second-hand toys. He likes to keep them locked up safely when he throws them away.”
My throat constricts at locked up. “How come you know so much about how Damian plays with his toys?”
“I know how he operates. I’ve seen him in action.”
It’s not possible. Damian couldn’t have slept with a woman in prison. Could he?
Zane laughs again. “Did you know they allow sex in prison these days? It reduces rape among cellmates.”
I swallow, unable to get rid of the tightness in my throat. “Who?”
“Guess.”
I can’t, and I can. Oh, my God. “Anne?”
“Good guess, Mrs. Hart. Did you honestly think he lets her stay because you insisted? He’s just keeping all his toys close.”
When he lets me go, I take a shaky breath. I refuse to show him how much this information affects me. I didn’t want to care, thought I wouldn’t, but it’s as if someone is pushing a thumb into a bruise on my skin. Damian owes me nothing. He could’ve fucked whomever he wanted in prison, but he could’ve told me his ex-lover is living with us. He made a fool out of me, and I’m naive enough not to have realized. Or maybe he did try to tell me, when he told me Anne is Zane’s sister the day I asked her to stay, and I just didn’t want to listen.
