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Damonrattled off his jam-packed schedule, though it was aSunday.Theywere working a half-day to ensure everything was in order before ringing in the new year.
Ichecked the time on my phone, realizing we had been talking for over twenty minutes. “Soundslike a busy day.Shouldn’tyou leave for work?”
Damonchuckled. “I’malready at work.”
Ifrowned. “Yousaid there was a business meeting first thing in the morning.”
“Yes,” he negligently agreed. “I’min the meeting.”
Istilled, picking up the faint sound of shuffling paper for the first time.Uncomfortablecoughs and muted chatter of employees about passing a pen or a file became apparent in the background.Theywere patiently waiting for theirCEOto wrap up a call that was clearly personal.
“You’retalking to me on the phone in front of your staff?”Iasked.
“Don’tworry.”Damonwas unfazed, his voice collected as he spoke into the receiver. “TheyhaveNDAs.Anythingsaid here is kept private.”
“That’snot whatIwas worried about.”Therewere a millionPoppiesin the world.They’dnever guess it wasPoppyAmbanispeaking toDamonon the other line.However, spending a business meeting on the phone was cavalier. “Youcan’t put your staff on standby while you take a personal call.”
“Theydon’t mind,” he said flippantly.Itsounded likeDamonlowered the receiver to address his team. “Youguys don’t mind ifItalk to my girlfriend, do you?Shemissed me and couldn’t stand the separation.”
“I’mnot your girl”
Iwas overruled by the voices on the other side of the line.Aunanimous,no sir, not at all, go ahead, we are happy to wait,sounded throughout the conference room.Atleast fifteen to twenty people must be awkwardly watchingDamonchat away.Whatwas he thinking?Moreimportantly,girlfriend?
Ididn’t know what to address first since he bypassed my gripe about the girlfriend comment.Iwent for the problem needing an immediate solution. “Goback to your meeting.Ijust called to thank you for covering for me.”
“Always,”Damonreplied without hesitation.Asif he had done this a million times whenIcreated trouble in the past and would continue doing so in the future. “I’llswing by later.Bye.”Damon’sdeep voice echoed through the phone.Hehung up beforeIcould argue.
Iheaved a sigh.ReprimandingDamon’sheavy-handed nature procured inadequate results.Therewas zero hesitation in his pursuit.Wewere too alike, andIcouldn’t put a brake on somethingIdidn’t know how to stop myself.Plus, we had things to discuss.Suchas howDamonknew the pin to my panic room andgirlfriend?
Atleast one thing was accomplished with the call.Damondidn’t jeopardize everything because of me.Therelief was short-lived.
Throughoutcollege,I’dworked atAmbaniCorpas a part-time analyst.Iwas knee-deep in a work project when something caught my eye.Mydesk was different from last night.Abandoningmy laptop,Iimmediately grabbed the empty picture frame off my desk.
Whatthe hell?
Theremaining family photo from our vacation, the last souvenirIhad ofPapa, was missing.Myhands shook with rage.Ibrought that picture into this house afterMomassured me no one would enter my room.Shenever understood whyIinsisted she had a talk withZane.Myfloor was strictly off-limits to him.Noone had access to this room exceptMomand our housekeeper,Rachel, both of whom knew better than to touch my things.
Technically,Parisentered my room last night.ButIshowedDamonthe pictureafterlockingParisaway.Ipulled up my phone, veins pumping with fury asItapped on the photoDamonsent me.Zoomingin,Iconfirmed the picture was on the desk, untouched whenDamonleft withParis.Iexamined the time stamp.Someonemust’ve entered my room between one and five o’clock.
Onlyone person had a motive to steal the picture, someone who’d done it before with access to my room.Zane’ssignature move was to cut outPapa’sface and leave behind the photo.Ifhe took the picture, it meant he was using it as collateral, most likely holding it in caseIchanged my mind about going away withMom.
Calm, murderous rage boiled within me.Iwas going to lockZaneinside that panic room for years to come until he was nothing more than a pile of bones.I’dkill him with my bare hands if need be.Lastnight's near-prison sentence meant nothing becauseIwas willing to risk it again.I’dhappily go to jail for killingZane.
* * *
Anelegant winter wedding in beautifulSandsPoint,NewYork, taught me an important life lesson.Ipreferred funerals.
Morbidviolinists were significantly better than wedding guests hopping on the dance floor.I’dhappily trade the cheerful people for the solemn ones bowing their heads in respect.I’dgladly give up the fall-inspired terracotta cloth napkins in favor of handkerchiefs to blot tears.AndI’drather be anywhere but here.
Unfortunately, the option wasn’t available.
“Youare staying for the reception,”Zane, aka my new evil stepfather as of ten minutes ago, informed me stoically.
ZaneandMomofficially tied the knot at his over-the-top house inSandsPoint.Theceremony took place inside a heated tent on the beach running alongside his property, and the reception was being held inside in the ballroom.
Theyhad to have known it was inappropriate to have such an obnoxious wedding five months after my father’s death.Wasn’tten years the customary mourning period, or was that wishful thinking?Iknew my mother was young and beautiful.Papamentally prepared me for such a possibility, but did she have to marry the worst human being on earth?
Ipushed my chair back and grabbed my phone off the six-foot marble table decorated with tall vases. “Thedeal was thatIstayed for the wedding.Theceremony is over, you’re officially married, andI’mout of here.”Ihave had enough of this charade.Itwas bad enough to suffer alone in this never-ending cesspool of misery, but was it also necessary to throw theirPDA-filled love in my face?Iwasn’t stopping them from being happy, so why couldn’t they leave me alone to be miserable?
