Second (Betrothed 6)

He stilled and stared at me. “That’s not what I meant.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, it is. And that’s fine…” I wasn’t jealous of other women because I’d never hated my appearance. I’d always been comfortable in my own skin, confident in what I had to offer the world. But I was jealous of what she had.

“I think he’s lucky because he has a woman who’s all over him all the time.” He stared at my reflection in the mirror. “I wish you were all over me like that…” His hand rested on his thighs as he looked at me, the top of his jeans open. “You used to be that way, and I miss it.”

My eyes dropped to my earrings.

“I know I’m the reason you aren’t that way anymore, but that doesn’t make me miss it less.”

15

Damien

Patricia had the fire ready before I walked inside. The flames heated the bedroom, and I immediately made myself a scotch before I moved to the couch in front of the TV. The wine at dinner wasn’t enough to make me feel like less of an asshole.

Charlotte slipped off her heels near my bed then unzipped the back of her dress. “I’m glad I got to meet your friends. They were nice.”

They weren’t my friends. Hades was the only one, but she already knew him.

In her strapless bra and panties, she walked toward me. With her hands on her hips, she stared at me.

When her gaze didn’t disappear, I stopped looking into my drink so I could see her face.

Her expression was cold, as if she were angry about something. In the period of time I’d known her, she’d never gotten upset about anything. When I resisted her affection, she just tried harder. “She’s still in love with you.”

My expression remained stoic, but my heart raced in my chest. I didn’t play dumb or deny her assumptions. But I felt like shit. Because if Charlotte noticed it…then it was really obvious how terrible Annabella felt.

“When did you stop seeing each other?”

I didn’t answer her question. “I don’t owe you an explanation. As I’ve said a million times…” I left my drink on the table and rose to my feet to regard her head on. “I’m not your man. You aren’t my woman. This is just sex—that’s fucking it.”

Her eyes blinked in sadness, but she still held her angry expression. “You aren’t over her either.”

My arms rested by my sides and I considered denying the claim, but I didn’t. Because I knew it was a lie…and I didn’t want to start lying now. I still missed Annabella, still felt incomplete without her. Every time I caused her pain, I wanted to put a bullet in my head. I’d never cared about someone else more than myself before. It was a first.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s fine. I’ll make you get over her.”

Charlotte asked to have dinner with Conway and his wife, Sapphire, and she took me as her date. That was the trade she’d requested. If she took me out, then I had to do the same for her. I did it because it was necessary, but after seeing Annabella’s reaction, I questioned whether it was worth it.

Too late now.

Conway was with his wife at the table, her stomach large just the way Sofia’s was. They were engaged in conversation, his fingers moving through her hair as they whispered quietly together.

Charlotte arrived at the table first. “You guys are so cute.” She leaned down and hugged Sapphire. “How’s that baby?”

“Ornery,” Sapphire joked. “Likes to kick a lot.”

Charlotte moved to Conway next, and instead of hugging him, she shook his hand, probably because he was her boss. “Thanks for having dinner with me.”

“Of course,” Conway said. “I’m always here if you need anything.”

When Charlotte stepped out of the way, Conway finally saw me. His eyes narrowed and he immediately sighed, disappointed that he’d been ambushed like this. “Should have known…” He rose to his feet and faced me head on. “Damien.”

I extended my hand. “Would you rather me call at two in the morning?”

He gave me that same scowl. “I suppose not.” He shook my hand before he stepped back.

“Nice to see you, Sapphire.” I gave her shoulder a squeeze before I moved into the chair across from her husband.

Sapphire and Charlotte immediately engaged in conversation, talking about the baby on the way.

I grabbed the bottle of wine and filled my empty glass.

Conway was rigid in his seat, one hand resting on the table as his fingers drummed against the surface. His head was slightly tilted, and he examined me with a defensive expression, ready for whatever I threw his way.

“Come on, Conway.” I broke the ice by addressing the subject we were both thinking about.

“Come on, what?” he asked coldly.

“I’ve done a lot for you. Solved a lot of problems.”