It’s a huge opportunity, and one I don’t want to screw up. Especially since my goal for the next eighteen months is to build up my receivables, hire five employees, and take over the full floor of the building that houses my office condo.
I’d worked on my business plan for months, and I’d been a complete nervous wreck the night I’d handed it to my Master of the Universe, brilliantly entrepreneurial husband for review. When he’d given it the Damien Stark seal of approval, I’d practically collapsed with relief. My plan to grow my business doesn’t hinge on me getting this job—but getting it will mean I can bump all my target dates up by six months. More important, winning this contract will put my little company firmly on the competitive map.
My shoulders sag a bit as I meet his eyes. “You’re afraid that seeing Mother is going to throw me off my game. That I’ll flub tomorrow’s meetings, and hurt my chances of landing the contract.”
“I want you at your best.”
“I know you do,” I say sincerely, because Damien has never been anything but supportive. “Don’t you get it? That’s why we’re here. It’s like a preemptive strike.”
His brow furrows, but before he can ask what I mean, I rush to explain. “Just being in Dallas messes with my head—we both know that. She haunts this town. And before I make my pitch, I need to be certain that I’ll be travel back and forth between LA and Dallas without being afraid I’m going to see her around every corner.”
The pathetic truth is that lately I’ve been seeing my mother around all sorts of corners. I’ve imagined seeing her in Beverly Hills restaurants. On Malibu beaches. In crowded streets. At charity events. I have no idea why this woman I’ve worked so hard to block from my mind is suddenly at the forefront of my imagination, but she is.
And I really don’t want her there.
I draw a breath, hoping he understands. “I need to lay all these demons to rest and just do my work. Please,” I add, my voice imploring. “Please tell me you understand.”
“I do,” he says, then takes my hand and gently kisses my fingertips. As he does, his phone rings. It’s sitting on the console, and I can see that the caller is his attorney, Charles Maynard.
“Don’t you need to take it?” I ask, as he scowls, then declines the call.
“It can wait.”
There’s a hard edge to his voice, and I wonder what he’s not telling me. Not that Damien keeps me informed about every aspect of his business—considering he pretty much owns and operates the entire planet and a few distant solar systems, that would require far too many updates—but he does tend to keep me in the loop on things that are troubling him.
I frown. It’s clear that he’s not telling me because I’ve already got plenty on my mind. And while I appreciate the sentiment, I don’t like that—once again—my mother has come between me and my husband.
“You should call him back,” I say. “If he’s calling on a Sunday it must be important. . .”
I let the words trail away, hoping to give him an opening, but all he does is shake his head. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, even as his phone signals an incoming text.
He snatches it up, but not before I see Charles’ name flash on the lock screen again, this time with a single word — Urgent.
Damien meets my eyes, and for just a moment his frustration is almost comical. Then he snatches up the phone and hits the button to call Charles. A second later, he’s saying, “Dammit, I told you I can’t be bothered with this right now.”
He listens to the response, the furrows in his brow growing deeper. Finally, he sighs, looking more frustrated than I’ve seen him in a long time.
Cold foreboding washes over me. Damien isn’t the kind of man who gets frustrated over business deals. On the contrary, the harder and more challenging the deal, the more he thrives.
Which means this is personal.
“I hear you, Charles, but I’m not paying you for your advice on this. I’m paying you for those resources your PR department is so keen on touting. So use them, dammit. Pull out all the stops and get me some answers by the time I’m back in LA. Fine,” he adds after another pause. “Call me if you have something definitive, otherwise I’ll see you in a couple of days.”
He ends the call and slams the phone back down. I open my mouth, intending to ask him what’s happening, but before I get the chance, he pulls me roughly to him and closes his mouth over mine. The kiss is hard, brutal, and I slide closer, losing myself in the wildness. And for this moment at least, I forget my apprehension and his problems. There is nothing but us, our passion a raging blaze that clears away the debris of our lives, stripping us to the bone until there is nothing left but the two of us.