Then again, he wasn’t exactly normal either. But then, neither was I. We all had our baggage.
I placed my hand on the terrace door’s ornate handle, but a flicker of movement caught my eye.
There were people out there.
Not just people, but Damien, alone with the redheaded woman from earlier. Francesca.
She stood in front of him, fluttering her eyelashes and pressing her breasts outward, speaking in what was doubtless breathy tones to tempt him.
Damien, to his credit, looked about as interested as if she was literal paint drying on a wall. He shook his head once, taking a step away from her.
She caught him and ran her hands down his front, then moved them to his pants, slipping her hands toward his pockets. What was she going to do, grab his dick through his pants? Old school.
I tried to find humor in the situation, but a green beast erupted inside me and tore at my chest. Pathetic. Damien and I weren’t even an item, and he clearly wasn’t interested in Francesca regardless.
But he would be interested in another woman once this was all over. He would do whatever he wanted with woman after woman, and I would be left with nothing but the jealousy and the bitterness and a fat paycheck.
I had to pull back from these emotions before it was too late.
Damien caught Francesca’s wrists and shook his head at her, anger on his face. He released her then walked for the terrace doors. His gaze locked on mine. “Hazel,” he mouthed.
The classical music from the live band swelled. I offered him a wry little smile. “I’m done,” I said and walked off.
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t go through with the deal while I felt like this about him. It was a slippery slope, and I was already clinging to the last tuft of grass on the ledge, my grip pulling free, blade by blade.
Jealous of him and some redhead in a glittery skinsuit of a dress? As if. Not happening.
I was already across the ballroom by the time his voice called out for me. I didn’t stop walking.
There had to be another way to get the money for the café. And there had to be another way to fix the house and the… Gosh, what did I have in my bank account right now? I hadn’t been to work in a week. There had to be enough for a motel room for Dad, Kara and I while I figured this stuff out.
Just for a week or so. Then we could assess the damages and go from there.
“Hazel!” Damien called.
I shook my head and doubled my pace. I didn’t want to let my father down, and I didn’t want to lose my dreams either, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t deal with being interested in Damien or anyone.
“Hazel.”
I was outside, heading for the street. A taxi. I needed a taxi. Or an Uber. Whichever.
“Stop.” Damien’s hand closed on my arm, sending shocks through me. “Look at me.”
27
Damien
Fuck, surely she didn’t believe that I’d actually done anything with that Francesca chick? She wasn’t my type. Nobody was my type at the moment.
Except for her.
“Look at me, Hazel.”
“Don’t bother,” she said, softly, voice hitching. “You’re just causing a scene, and it’s totally unnecessary.”
“Of course, it’s necessary. You’re leaving.”
She took my hand, but it wasn’t a sweet gesture. The cold shape of a ring pressed against my palm. My grandmother’s engagement ring. “Take it,” she said. “The deal’s off.”
My world rocked on its axis. She can’t leave. “You’re not calling the deal off,” I said. “You need the money.”
“Aren’t you such a sweetheart?” Hazel blinked, and there were tears in those glittering green eyes. Her soft skin, illuminated by the city lights, the streetlamps, the hotel’s glow, tempted me, but I held back. She didn’t want my affection. She hated me. I read it in the lines on her forehead, the set of her jaw, the thinness of her usually full and welcoming lips.
“You need me,” I replied. “You need the money. So, don’t fake that you’re going to do anything other than—”
“Don’t fake?” she asked. “That’s just the thing. I’m tired of being fake.”
“Meaning what?”
Hazel left the ring in my palm. “I need to get my father out of your house.”
“Hazel. No.”
“Don’t tell me no. It’s my choice where my father goes and what I do. It’s not up to you.”
“You signed a contract,” I said, lowering my voice and looking around, but there was no one on the grand steps of the hotel. I circled so I was on the steps below her, and level with her eyeline. “Look at me. You can’t back out of this now. It’s going to change your life and mine. I need you.”
Hazel shut her eyes, quivering on the spot. “Don’t you get it? I can’t do this with you. I just can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Hazel. That’s not an answer.”
“You’re just… you’re just—you’re an asshole,” she said.
“You knew that going into this. I don’t understand what bearing that has on our agreement.”
“Dude, I don’t know how else to put this,” Hazel started, then stopped, swallowing. Good god, she was beautiful—her hair falling around her shoulders, the halo of light framing her from the hotel’s front doors above. “How would you have reacted if you’d seen me on the terrace with some random dude, and he was hitting on me?”
“I rejected her. You saw that.”
“Yeah, I saw that. But I want to know what you would’ve thought or felt if you saw me with someone else,” Hazel said, searching my face. “What would you have done?”
“I would’ve… shit, well, I would’ve been concerned that you might get caught and blow our cover.” I would’ve ripped the fucking door off and thrown the guy over the balcony. I
