It took a second for my brain to register what he’d said. “What?”
“I’m sorry, Hazel, for the way I treated you. I shouldn’t have left without saying goodbye or explaining that it wasn’t about you.”
“It wasn’t.”
“No. There were other matters that had to be attended to.”
“Like what?”
Damien’s emotions shuttered again, and he leaned back slightly, distancing himself from me or from the conversation. Maybe both. “Doesn’t matter now. Just know that I’m sorry, I admit I was a dick, and that I want this weekend to go as smoothly as possible. I don’t want you to hate me.”
“I don’t hate you,” I said, then laughed. “Well, I mean, I don’t hate you now. I did back then.” He didn’t need to know the full extent of how badly his rejection had affected me at the time. I was over it now. Kind of. Definitely. “We can move past it, but I still think you’re a spoiled jerk.”
“And I still think you’re a goody-goody.” He shot me another of his signature grins, but it faded slowly. “You going to be OK dealing with my father? He’s a lot to take.”
“Speaking tactfully, I see.”
“Ha.” He grew silent again, his gaze wandering to the pool, and it gave me the opportunity to admire him again.
Damien Woods was sex made flesh, and it was a struggle not to react viscerally to his presence. His strong jaw was dusted with stubble, his nose was sharp and a little askew, like it had been broken and healed again, and that dark brown hair shifted in the light breeze. Cologne drifted over, bathing me in his presence, and sending thrills through my chest and down to my core.
“Why is he like that?” I asked, after a second. “Your father. I mean, with you. When we were in high school, I always figured you got everything you wanted. That Daddy would cater to your every whim. Those were the rumors at school, anyway.”
“Couldn’t be further from the truth,” he said, stiffly. “My father and I are opposites. He didn’t give me shit unless my mother forced him to. He took a hard line with me, wanted me to grow up following in his footsteps. Take over the company, run Woods Enterprises with an iron fist, that kind of thing.”
“And you don’t want that?”
“No.”
“Then why are you doing this whole fake fiancée thing in the first place?” I asked.
Damien’s heated gaze took me again, and I dug my fingertips into the fabric of the lounger’s cushion. “I did explain this.”
“Not properly. You’re a walking contradiction, Damien. One second you want to irritate your father, the next you’re chewing me out for pissing him off. You ask me to do this with you, this whole fake deal, and then you tell me that you never wanted to be a part of Woods Enterprises in the first place.”
“My father will cut me off, cut me out of everything, if I don’t do what he wants,” Damien replied. “I don’t suppose you know what that feels like.”
“No, I don’t. But why do you care? Is it just the money?”
“Money makes the world go round.” He shrugged, his expression closing like a door.
“So, you only care about money.”
“If that’s what you want to believe.”
“No, I’m asking you. What’s the deal with this?” I asked.
“I want to start something of my own,” Damien said, after a beat, anger twisting his words. “And I need money to do that. I’ve saved a significant amount, but not enough. If he cut me off now, he’d not only take away the salary I have, but he’d make my life hell. He’d sink anything I tried to set up in opposition to his business.”
“Opposition? So you want to have a Woods Enterprises 2.0?”
“Not quite,” he replied, slowly. “I want to do two things. Start a nonprofit and a hospitality company.”
“What, like hotels and stuff?”
“Yeah, basically. Hotels, restaurants, that kind of thing,” Damien replied. “I’ve spent a lot of time planning it.”
“Then you have a business plan. Why not just go to a bank for a loan?”
“Because Mortimer is so far up every fucking bank’s ass that the minute I do it, he’ll find out about it and shut me down. I have as much chance of getting a business loan as I do of getting pregnant.”
“Miracles do happen,” I said, trying for humor, but it fell flat. “And the nonprofit?”
“For women and men who need to escape abusive relationships. A shelter that provides them with safety, food, warmth, and a base to start a new life.” Damien broke eye contact, rising from his seat. “We should get out of here. Go get some lunch somewhere else.”
A nonprofit. Abuse?
I had misjudged him so sorely, though I wasn’t ready to believe he was a “changed man” or even a good man at this point.
“Hazel.” He offered me a hand. “Come on. My treat.”
I didn’t take his hand but rose to meet him. I stared. I couldn’t help myself.
“You good?” Damien asked.
You’re not really doing this. You’re not.
But I wanted to. I’d been nothing but responsible for years, now, and it had gotten me nothing but pain and bills and anxiety. We were away. It was a weekend where no one could judge me for my shitty, stupid actions.
“Hazel?” His warm, panty-melting voice sank into me.
I stepped closer to him, right up to his chest, and looped my arms around his neck.
Damien’s hands moved to my waist, instantly, like he’d been wanting to touch me all along.
I lifted my chin, meeting his hungry stare with one of my own. “Kiss me,” I said. “Please.”
Our lips met, and fireworks went off inside me. I leaned into him, opening my mouth and giving him as much as I could without losing myself
