A/N: Hiya! This is Bonnie's POV. Enjoy.
He brought the rain with his arrival. The kind that came down heavy and thick, unstoppable. He could be like a four-legged animal in tune with the earth, my fiancé. An insatiable appetite, highkey territorial, and grouchy when tired, or perhaps that simply made him human. In any case, he walked through my doors with his bags, drenched from head to toe.
"Bunny," was all Tyler said before lunging for me, catching me in his arms, soaking my clothes with his own as his warm mouth sent chills wherever they touched.
Wrecked and ravaged, that was my hello.
Standing at the edge of the bed, I watched him sleep on his stomach as I rehydrated my cells. My core throbbed and for a moment I felt like he missed my pussy more than he missed me. He had been distracted, focused on something beyond what was happening on my cotton sheets.
Tyler hadn't been the only one.
He was too preoccupied chasing his nut to realize my bare ring finger. I've officially lost or misplaced my engagement ring. I wasn't looking forward to the confrontation the minute Tyler regained consciousness and noticed.
His left arm flung out. I'm going to assume he's reaching for me. I didn't go to him, curious to see if he'd wake up or merely turn his head away.
The mystery would go unsolved as my cell began ringing. I grabbed it before the volume could wake Tyler. I stared at the name on the screen and debated for a few seconds if I honestly wanted to take this call or not. Being that I was wide awake and in no rush to cuddle my drooling fiancé, I hustled into the living room and parked myself on the couch.
"Hey, what's up?"
"I know it's late," M began without preamble, "but I really need to talk. Is now good?"
M had been drifting in something of a fugue state since her "date" with Mr. Retired Hockey Player. One minute eyes glazed that it actually happened, that she spent hours with Damon, and the next gnawing her thumb and lips petrified she'd never hear from him again. I tried to keep my distance whenever she'd find herself schlepping to my office to question if I'd seen Damon, if he might have asked about her. For six days my answer was a regrettable no. Guilt knotted within me because I meddled where I perhaps shouldn't have, but I wasn't going to let Damon use M. It took next to nothing to hurt her feelings, and it would crush her if she learned Damon wasn't feeling her the way she felt him. I braced myself for the inevitable question, but no matter what, I wasn't going to do Damon's dirty work for him. He would have to talk to M.
"Now is fine. What's the matter? You sound weird."
M sighed for a long time, "I got an email from this girl I used to go to high school with. I haven't talked to her in years and she's asking if she can come for a visit. It's just weird because like I said, we haven't talked in a really long time, and yeah we used to be close, but I don't know. My memories of high school are foggy, but I do remember that every boy I had a crush on, she ended up dating. I think she did that shit on purpose, too."
I sighed a little in relief the issue didn't pertain to my neighbor. I wiggled my bare toes before stuffing them beneath a decorative pillow. It was cold in the apartment. I could turn on the heat but I liked to keep my bills low. Plus, sleeping next to Tyler was like sleeping near a furnace.
"Tell her now isn't a good time for you to have guests. Did she say how long she wanted to stay?"
"She was vague with it. Oh, and now that I'm remembering our friendship," she snorted. "The girl brought drama no matter where she went."
"All the more reason for you to be cautious. I'm pretty sure she was probably hitting everyone up she could think of hoping someone would bite."
"Probably. I just feel kind of bad because I don't think she'd contact me unless she was desperate."
"When you write her back just say you hope she's doing all right. Your charity complete," I added a smile to my voice. "Don't open your home to someone you barely even know who she is now just because you feel sorry for her. At least not without getting more information and promises in writing."
"I know," she sighed heavily and I could tell M was still on the fence about it. Her heart was enormous, and she liked it when people depended on her. But I also knew that wasn't the main reason she decided to hit me up at eleven o'clock at night. "There's something else," she whispered.
"I'm listening."
"Zander's in the hospital."
I sat up. "What's going on?"
"About a month ago he started having pains in his lower abdomen. He finally went to the doctor and well…they think he might have pancreatic cancer."
"Ohmygod."
"I know," M sniffled. "He's having all these tests done and he's scared. I want to go see him, but I don't know if I can. I still miss him."
"You two were together for three years, that's only natural, M. But I think you should go."
"Yeah, I just hate hospitals," she wheezed a tired laugh. "Will you come with me?"
"Absolutely. Just let me know when, okay?"
"All right. I just…I can't think about him not being around, Bon."
"Then don't think about it."
"Yeah," M murmured. "I'm sorry to break this news so late at night."
"It's fine. You're worried and scared. Who wouldn't be?"
M was quiet then finally, "Best I get everything out now so that when I see Zander…I won't cry like he's already gone," she sniffled again.
"When's the last time you talked to him before finding out?"
"About two months ago. His brother had been in town and he invited me to meet up with them for drinks. I didn't go. I regret that," she confessed softly. "Let me stop before I fall down the rabbit hole."
"No, M if you need to talk…"
"If I start I won't stop," she sighed again heavy with sadness. "Let me let you go. Tyler's there, right?"
"He is. Knocked out."
"Un-hun," M said slyly.
"Don't start. You know I'm here for you if you need me."
"I know. Thanks, Bon."
"You don't need to thank me for anything. Love you."
"Love you, too."
We hung up and the back of my head hit the arm of the couch. I hoped for Zander's sake he didn't have cancer. Not many survived pancreatic cancer, but whatever was going on I could only pray it had been caught in time. Hearing about Zander's potential health issues put a few things about my life into perspective. The obvious one being I lived under the myth that I had tomorrow to get yesterday's mistakes right. Nothing was promised to us, and we needed to make each day, relationship, count.
Before we lost everything.
Heading off to bed, I lied on my back trying to turn off my thoughts. At some point I must have fallen asleep, dreaming about hospitals and redheads. When I woke up, Tyler was already alert and tapping my finger.
"Where's your ring?"
Cold. Busted.
"Good morning to you, too," I rasped and pulled the sheet under my chin.
"Morning, Bonnie." Bad sign. He was using my actual name. "Want to explain to me where your engagement ring is?"
I stifled a yawn. "I may have…misplaced it."
"How long ago?"
I winced a little, "I'm not exactly sure."
"Do you make a habit of taking it off?"
Yes, but he didn't need to know I only wore it around specific people, and that it spent the rest of its time cohabitating with my dresser. "Just when I do things around the house. I'm sure it'll turn up. Now, what do you want for breakfast?"
Tyler sat upright and braced his muscled back against the headboard. There was a storm brewing in his obsidian orbs, and the vein in his forehead fattened with blood. More bad signs.
"You're a little too nonchalant about this. Why didn't you tell me as soon as you misplaced it, or should I really be saying lost it?"
"Ty, I'm really sorry I didn't say anything. I didn't want you to be upset and I have been looking for it."
And I had. I thought I might have left it at Cami's office, but she denied seeing it. That snowballed into me accusing one of her clients of swiping it, and my therapist couldn't exactly repudiate the possibility. Cami promised to flat out ask her patients if they may have taken it by mistake. So far, no one has fessed up. In short, I searched my office, my apartment, in every purse I owned, even the ones I hadn't used in a few years. Gone. The ring was gone.
Tyler wagged his head and tossed the sheets aside. "We finally set a date and you lose your fuckin' ring. Unbelievable. I'm beginning to think you're trying to sabotage everything."
"Tyler," the way I said his name was how I said it right before I disciplined his ass. He recognized it. His shoulders stiffen a little. "I don't sabotage anything. I end it. I walk away. I leave. Am I still here?"
He furled and unfurled his fists, clenched and unclenched his jaw. "Yes."
"Louder."
"Yes."
"And that's all that matters. The ring is important, too," I added once seeing he was going to interrupt. "So after we eat we'll look for it together."
"If we can't find it…?"
"Then I'll tie a piece of string around my finger. I'll pay you back."
His shoulders sagged, "No, you don't…you don't have to pay me back. I know you didn't really like that ring. It wasn't your style."
"So why'd you buy it?"
Pink tinted Tyler's olive cheeks. "My ego. The jeweler took one look at me and thought I couldn't afford anything in that place. I had to prove him wrong, bunny."
I wheezed a laughed while rolling my eyes.
"How about after breakfast we get dressed and go and get you a ring you'll actually love?" Tyler offered.
"We could do that or…You can be the one to wear the engagement ring this time. In fact," the idea spurred me sit up on my knees. "I want you to wear a ring. Why do men get to walk around with a bare hand until vows are exchanged? Why do women have to be branded, in a sense, pre-nuptial?"
Tyler arched a brow and I could see he was maybe, sort of feeling the idea. "That's what you want? Me to wear the engagement ring so people know I belong to someone?"
"Yep."
Neither of us blinked. Flinched. Twitched.
"If that's what you want," he trailed off, giving me the chance to interject, backpedal.
I rolled out of bed and sauntered into the bathroom. "Don't I usually get what I want?"
He followed after me and kicked the door closed with the heel of his foot.
We had gone out to dinner after I had a full day in the editor's room at work. The ring issue still hadn't been completely resolved. My funds were on life support and I couldn't handle another big purchase. Tyler had thrown out getting matching tattoos. I rode the fence on that one.
The lobby of my building was vacant apart from the guard at the front desk whom we greeted. Not that he needed any reason to be in the mood, Tyler pressed his erection against me as we waited for the elevator.
"We should head for the stairs," he groaned in my ear, arms tightening around my waist.
To his chagrin, the elevator arrived.
We stepped on the lift and just as the doors were about to seal, a hand slipped through. My heart flipped then somersaulted. Deja vu. It wouldn't be the algorithm of my life if the world didn't see fit to throw the person I've been avoiding (though it wasn't terribly hard) in my face.
Damon.
Our eyes met and like the first time it was instant awareness. A reckoning, firing of synapses in the brain that lead to excitability with a pinch of wariness. The last time we shared space I had ground my stiletto into his chest; muscle memory from a previous lifestyle. His head tilted and he pulled the classic look you up and down from head to toe. However he did so at a sedate pace with half-lidded orbs. He slid a hand into the pocket of his blade sharp trousers, smiled very minutely.
I did what I could to staunch the fact the cadence of my breathing had changed. Had become slightly labored. That could be the wine, the shots, the late hour, the fact I was snuggled up with my fiancé who was using my neck as a place to rest his lips.
But I knew what it was. His jawline.
"Hey," Damon said to me, looking only at me. Tyler was not here as far as he was concerned. We were alone.
"Hey to you, too."
Tyler's head jerked up. I knew he was glaring at Damon who was now pressing the button for his floor. Once done, instead of scooting to the farthest corner, he remained parked at the doors flirting with tumbling backwards should they spontaneously open.
Twenty seconds may have gone by before his wicked blues traveled to Tyler, "So you're the fiancé?"
Oh God, Damon's tone said loud and clear he wasn't impressed.
Tyler heard that plain as day. His jaw hardened as he stood taller in his Tom Ford loafers. "Question is, who the fuc—" his eyes widened once it registered who he was about to cuss out. "You're…?"
"Unfortunately I'm innocent of a lot of things, but I'm guilty of that," Damon preempted.
"Holy shit! Babe, why didn't you tell me defenseman Damon 'Heart Killer' Salvatore lives in your building?" Tyler's fanboy was officially out.
"Heart killer?" I glanced between my freaked out fiancé and neighbor.
"Yeah, he smashed Lorenzo St. John, another defenseman who played for the Canucks rival team into the boards so hard he literally stopped St. John's fucking heart. Dude had to be carted off to be defibrillated," Tyler explained gleefully.
After hearing something like that you'd expect Damon to be sheepish, embarrassed, but he was actually proud of the fact he almost killed someone.
"Is he still playing? The other player I mean."
My words fell on deaf ears as Tyler thrust his hand out for a bro handshake that Damon obliged.
"Dude's a punk ass bitch," Damon expounded. "Had to learn how respect is earned in the league the hard way."
"Yeah, he can eat a bag of dicks," Tyler readily agreed. "Wow, it's awesome to meet you."
"You, too, man."
Opening created, Tyler attempted to squeeze in as many questions as he could before we arrived on my floor. Damon answered patiently enough, used to the hen picking by fans salivating for any tiny detail he was willing to share. With them together I ordered myself not to compare and contrast. I was spoken for in every way that mattered, could occasionally window shop to admire the merchandise, nothing more. I was mildly worried if Damon would throw up in Tyler's face that we've had several encounters. That the word acquaintance didn't really pertain to us the way it should. He did have enough circumstantial evidence to indict me, to cause sufficient strain between Tyler and myself that could lead to the dissolution of our relationship.
The problem: I wasn't as worried as I should have been.
The ping of the elevator was a welcomed sound signaling freedom from this stifling box.
"Thank you," I mouthed.
Damon barely moved out of the way. I could feel the heaviness of his gaze like a body covering mine, but I didn't run with the bait to confirm I knew he was staring.
"Again, it was good to meet you," the fiancé gushed. "If I had anything for you to sign…"
"Maybe later. How long are you gonna be in town for?" Fishing, Damon was straight fishing.
"Until next Thursday."
"Who knows," Damon barred the sliding doors from closing, "maybe our paths will cross like mine does with Bonnie."
Stone let me introduce you to the bottom of my stomach. I swear white balls of light floated across my vision before bursting.
"Hopefully. Wait, you know I'm here visiting?" Tyler sized Damon up anew. His admiration taking a backseat to suspicion.
"Bonnie mentioned that you work overseas."
"What else has she mentioned?"
"Nothing, let's go," I interjected.
"You two talk?" Tyler raised one brow.
Damon elevated one of his own in return, "Sometimes. 'Hello, how are you?' That kind of thing."
"Oh, I guess that's cool."
"Tyler," I nearly hissed. "I'm sure there are people waiting on this very elevator you two are holding up."
"All right, woman. I'm coming. See you, man."
I tugged Tyler behind me and heard Damon chuckle, which I ignored its reverberating bass.
Once we were locked in my apartment, Tyler shrugged out of his blazer, unbuttoned his shirt sleeves. "He ever hit on you?"
"Damon?" I headed to the kitchen to dump our take home boxes in the fridge. Sphinx flew out of his hiding spot and raced into the living room. If I knew my cat well, he was clawing Tyler's pants.
"Yeah?"
Honestly was always best, "He has."
A beat and then, "Awesome," came out of Tyler's smiling mouth.
"What?" I left the kitchen and plopped down on the sofa. "You think it's awesome another guy hit on me?"
"Another guy, no. Damon Salvatore, hells yeah."
I couldn't be totally surprised by Tyler's reaction. During our sessions he'd tell me how hard it made him, hard with jealously and pride to catch other guys staring at me.
"Retired or current pro athletes are an exception," he elaborated.
"Why's that?"
Tyler danced from foot to foot trying to escape Sphinx who thought it was time to play.
"Dammit, come get your cat, Bon."
"He's having fun."
Shaking the leg Sphinx was tacked to, Tyler managed to dislodge my poor baby to join me on the sofa. The little furball was up and on his stubby feet giving chase, and planted himself right on Tyler's crotch. He growled lowly while I stifled a giggle.
"Back to you being perfectly fine with a man like Damon hitting on me. Explain the psychology of that. Do you see it as a compliment to you that your woman made a blip on the radar of a famous athlete who can arguably have anyone he wants?"
Tyler lifted his shoulder in a noncommittal manner. "That could be part of it."
"The other part or parts?" I curled my legs beneath my bottom.
"If you've seen this man play…" Tyler blew out a breath apparently replaying highlights of Damon's career. "I admire guys who are that hardcore, raw about what they do, what they're passionate about. If he can take his eyes off of that for two seconds to see you," and Tyler stared at me pointedly, "there's no damn point in me getting bent out of shape about it. I know what we have. I know what he wants. The fact he doesn't have a chance, icing on the cake."
"Does that…excite you? The fact other guys quote en quote don't have a chance? Does knowing they'll never taste me like you do get you off?"
"You can't expect me to answer that with your cat on my junk," Tyler laughed.
I scooped up Sphinx who let out a meow of disapproval and I dropped him in his second favorite place in the house, the bathroom sink. He purred and curled himself into a tight ball. I closed the door for added security and came to stand in between Tyler's legs.
"Well?"
He leaned forward, hands scaling up my thighs, disappearing under the hem of my dress. "You don't know how good you are for the ego, Bunny," he kissed my stomach. "Does it drive me crazy that another guy could be trying to fuck around on my turf while I'm gone, hell to the yeah. Do I like that they're envious, you bet your fine ass I do. What gets me off, Bunny is this," Tyler brushed his fingers along my slit. "That they'll never know you like I know you."
I shivered and whispered, "Damon isn't the only one I'm getting attention from."
Tyler's hands stilled. His onyx irises flared. "What?"
I showed Tyler the letters. He read them with a furrowed brow.
"Who wrote you this shit?"
He sounded angry but his dick wasn't. There was tell-tale tentage in his slacks.
"I don't know."
"How long has this been going on?"
"A few weeks."
"Have you written this person back?"
"How would I do that if I don't know who's sending them in the first place? And no, no one has been by the apartment trying to get in to see me, and no I haven't told management about it."
"Why the hell not? Isn't the first phase of stalking, sending a person letters?"
Tyler had a point. But my thoughts never steered in that direction because those letters kept me entertained when work was driving me nuts, and a myriad of other reasons included, but not limited to voyeurism.
"You need to let management know before things escalate. You know what, I'll take care of it," Tyler decided.
"You don't have to."
"I do. If you tried they're likely not to take it seriously; will probably think something's wrong with you for not seeing it as a compliment someone is writing you love notes. Pornographic content notwithstanding."
Again, my fiancé was right on the money. Women, according to society, were supposed to be flattered by unsolicited attention. Calling it out was liable to encourage more harassment.
"What if," Tyler swirled his tongue around his mouth, "what if these are from Damon?"
I picked up a page from one of the letters and jotted to my bedroom where I snatched Damon's hand written notecard that accompanied the bottle of wine he gifted me with to apologize for his conduct in Chicago. Something else I hadn't divulged to my fiancé. I analyzed the scrawls. It was easy enough to see that Damon's handwriting was neater and far more elegant than the author of those letters. If he did actually write the note and not the wine connoisseur.
"Bunny?"
I jumped and pivoted toward Tyler. "I don't think it's him leaving those letters."
"How can you be so sure about that?"
"My gut."
"Your gut could be wrong. I can ask him. Better yet, I'm going to ask him."
"Tyler, let me deal with my neighbor. Your temper…"
"I do know how to control myself. Thank you," he snapped.
"You want to repeat that again?"
Tyler fumed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm gonna let management know about this in the morning. If I happen to see Salvatore while I'm down there…we'll exchange words like civilized adults."
"If he denies it?"
"Then I'll believe him."
I cocked a skeptical eyebrow. Guess that would remain to be seen.
"Damon invited us to dinner."
That was the first thing Tyler said to me when I walked through the door after running errands and engaging in a diet version of retail therapy. I dumped my reusable sacks on the kitchen table, along with the mail, and my purse. Despite it being Saturday, I had a conference call with the executive producers of the parent company that cushioned Themyscira Films coffers annually. They wanted updates on how their investment was fairing, and I was staving off nervousness because there were production delays out the wazoo on our latest project, which was supposed to wrap at the end of July. It would take a miracle to reach that deadline.
"I have a conference call. But you go for both of us," was the best I could compromise.
If Tyler was disappointed I wouldn't be his plus one he didn't let it show. If anything, a gleam came into his eye and he semi-rushed off to get ready.
He kissed me goodbye thirty minutes later, and told me to text him if I changed my mind.
I wouldn't.
After putting away my groceries and personal products, I got on the phone with Dietrich so we could go over our game plan, ate a sub sandwich and twiddled my thumbs until the unholy trinity—as I liked to refer to Schmidt Rosenthal, Gabriel Mison, and Belinda Murphy—executive producers of Final Cutte Productions. They were friendly enough, personable enough to be yourself at least fifty-five percent of the time. At the end of the day they were strictly about business and numbers.
"Schmidt, Gabe, Belinda what's good?" I said once all parties were on the phone.
"Life, my love," answered Belinda airily. "How are you?"
"We need to talk," Schmidt cut the pleasantries entirely off. Oh god. "I have some… major concerns."
By the time the call ended I was near tears and nauseous. They hated everything, Schmidt more than anyone. The location change, the production design, the director. And since the picture didn't boast stars such as icon legend Elizabeth Taylor, they weren't going to have the set broken down and moved elsewhere. But they were on the bubble of freezing production and restarting at a later date.
Thankfully Dietrich talked them out of it.
"We'll be fine. Once the two of us getting into the editing room we'll have something they…won't totally despise having their name on," my business partner did what he could to allay my fears.
Holding back the bile that was steadily climbing up my throat, I put up a good front. "I need to go and look at my notes. Schmidt is short-sighted about everything, and really has no room to talk considering the last two pictures he produced. Even the landfill rejected them."
Dietrich chuckled like I was out of my mind. "Be that as it may, the wanker's holding the purse strings and we have no choice but to play ball. I need you out here, Bonnie."
"And I'll be there on Thursday. Call me if anything happens."
"Like we're all out of a job? Sure. I'll call."
Dumping my head in my hands again I pondered if being the boss was worth the constant kicks to your self-esteem and worth.
On another note, Tyler had been gone for hours and I was getting worried. He must have sensed that because he came home. His eyes were glazed. A symptom of drinking too much or smoking but there wasn't a cloud of weed swarming him like he was Pig-Pen from Charlie Brown. He toed off his high tops, unbuttoned his pants, belched and promptly passed out on the couch.
My cell began ringing. The name on the screen read Tyler. Brow arched I stared at him drooling.
One plus one equaled…
"He left his phone at your place?" I answered.
"Yes, he did," and I thought Damon might laugh, but I was treated to an earful of nothing.
"Its passcode protected and I'm sure it's a felony to break into someone's phone."
"Misdemeanor at best. And I didn't break into his phone. Someone called and I answered. He has you listed as Bunny. Did you know that? Well I guess you probably do know." It wasn't fair, the sensual cadence of his voice. "How are we gonna do this? I come to you or you come to me?"
"You can leave it at the front desk."
"Include another middle man when there's already one too many, I don't think so."
"Damon this isn't a game or funny."
"I know," he deadpanned. "You were missed at dinner."
"Yeah, what did you two talk about?"
Tyler snored loudly, drawing my attention.
"Sports, work, life, whether going vegan is worth it. But that's not what you want to know. You want to know if I pumped him for info about you. I'm happy to report I didn't mention your name once. Though he did bring up something about letters? Writing is not my thing."
I released the breath I had been holding. Guess I could cross him off the list. In what little I knew of Damon, I didn't peg him for a liar. If anything, he was probably too honest.
"I learned something interesting about him," Damon chattered away, "He wants something he's ashamed to say he wants and he misses what he once had, but he hates that his curiosity contradicts who he believes he is."
That gave me pause. "Meet me in the lobby."
Damon grunted a little.
"And bring the phone."
I beat Damon downstairs and ran into none other than Miss Josephine.
"Ah, I've missed you, child," she whispered in that disarming voice of hers.
"Hi, Miss Josephine, how are you?"
"Doing as well as to be expected at my age," her rheumy orbs judged my appearance which made me fidget. Guess the no makeup, hair in a messy bun, leggings and shirt ensemble wasn't doing it for her. "Waiting on a gentleman caller?"
"Something like that. Someone has my fiancé's cell phone. I'm just waiting for him to meet me to return it."
"Ah yes, cell phones," Miss Josephine's wrinkled veneer puckered even more in slight disgust. "No one writes to anyone anymore. Letters I feel are more personal. Hearing a voice over the phone is lovely, don't get me wrong. But a letter that is a conversation you can repeat again and again as many times as you like or need. Well, I won't take up much more of your time. Be well, child."
"You too, Miss Josephine."
I ruminated on what she said about letters. Could she? Nah, and if she were the culprit sending me explicit missives, gross. I had nothing against my elders enjoying the spice of life. I just wanted no knowledge or part in their exploits.
The old woman hobbled away and paused to speak to the person I was meeting. Miss Josephine presented her cheek for a kiss, giggled like a young girl before patting Damon's angular jaw with a gnarled hand. His eyes were on me as he politely side stepped our pseudo Cupid.
I could only assume he changed out of whatever he wore to dinner with Tyler. Damon's short-sleeve shirt was threadbare to the point I saw nipple. And knotted abs if I looked carefully which I diligently tried not to. His jogging pants hung off his hips. Running shoes complemented his attire.
"Going to the gym?" I inquired and folded my arms tightly across my chest.
"Yep. I ate too many carbs."
"You're retired. Don't tell me you still count calories."
Damon shook his head. "Carbs fuck with my sleep cycle," his glacial orbs slid over my body.
That perusal was enough to fuck with my head. Things needed to be sped along. "Okay, great. Where's the phone?"
Damon playfully dangled Tyler's cell and yanked it out of reach when I made a grab for it. He did it a second time. A third.
Exasperated, I sighed heavily, "Give me the gotdamn phone before I lose my patience."
Damon easily coughed it up then tucked his hands into the pockets of his sweat pants. "Were you really busy with work or did you not want to be near me?"
I heaved in a breath, "Do you not remember our last conversation?"
"I remember all our conversations, Bonnie."
So do I, but I wouldn't tell him that. "That's wonderful for you."
His grin was more so a grimace. "Are you gonna give me shit every time we see each other because of the incident with your friend?"
"It was more than an incident," I snarled. "You asked my friend out under false pretenses. And you haven't called her since."
"I've been out of town."
"Your phone doesn't stop working when you travel."
"Fair point," Damon leaned closer. "However, it's kind of hard to remember to give M a call when all I remember from that night was that moment in my car after winning the race…I wasn't the only one who forgot I had been there with someone else."
Red hot blood scorched my cheeks and I pressed my lips together.
When he stood to his full height it was like air being let out of a balloon. "You made your point and I heard it," he said. "I'm not leading your friend on, contrary to popular belief. I'm not the one lying to someone I supposedly care about each day."
"Yeah, all right. I got what I came down here for. Good night."
I pivoted and headed for the stairs too impatient to wait for the elevator, plus there was no way in the world I was riding on that thing trapped alone with Damon. I hated the way he affected my physiology. My limbs were jelly and I didn't even want to think about what was happening below my navel despite being aggravated by his implication.
I cleared one flight of stairs before hearing the pounding of feet behind me. Heart torpedoing, I stretched my little legs to clear the steps two at a time. I shot up the stairs, turned, shot up more stairs, turned again.
I wasn't fast enough.
A hand cuffed around my arm and I was hauled up to the next landing and pressed against the concrete wall.
"What the fuck?" my incredulous voice echoed.
Damon stood mere inches away, breathing hard, barrel chest rising and falling testing the delicate fibers of his well-worn shirt. "I think you misunderstood me. I wasn't slyly hinting you were the one lying every day to the person you care about. Maybe you are," he shrugged. "I meant your fiancé."
My lids fluttered rapidly. "What? Did Tyler tell you something? Did he tell you he was cheating on me?"
Words in any human language failed to describe the sensation that spliced my chest wide open at the thought Tyler was fucking around on me. I had to swallow hard not to wail.
"Believe it or not I care about you, Bonnie."
"You don't know me to care about me."
"I care enough to not want to see you get hurt," he contradicted softly, staring at my eyes then lips.
"You still haven't answered my question," I swallowed thickly. "Did Tyler say he was cheating or had cheated on me?"
In my peripheral Damon dug his thumbnail into the wall, "Why would he admit something like that to a total stranger and especially a stranger who lives in his girl's apartment complex? That would not only make him sloppy but dumb."
A sliver of our earlier conversation came back to me. "You said on the phone that he misses something he's ashamed of. What? What did you mean by that?" I had a pretty good idea what but I wanted Damon to confirm. Confirm my own speculation about him being a submissive.
"That's for him to tell. "
"You need to give me something before I scratch your pretty little eyes out, sweetheart."
Damon had the nerve to throw out a winning smile. "Does the name Tessa mean anything to you?"
I couldn't feel anything below my neck.
Damon's partially gloating façade morphed into concern and then alarm as I felt blood trickle from my nose. "Bonnie? Bonnie?"
A/N: Thoughts? Questions? Guesses? Thank you guys for reading and reviewing last chapter.