VEGAS follows you home (18 page)

"I need to keep my schedule clear from Tuesday of that week until the following Monday."

I keep my eyes on the planner laid out before her, refusing to make eye contact.

"What's going on?" Suspicion saturates her question. I peek up and meet her eyes.

"I'll, uh, be in New York."

I drop my eyes back down to the planner.

"So, I need you to make sure I'm all clear and that we only take on what the rest of the crew can handle. I'll adjust the—"

"Oh my lawd!" she shouts before dropping down to a hush. "You're going with him, aren't you?"

Rolling my eyes, I look back at her and shrug.

"Wow, this is…unexpected."

"It's a means to an end." I sit back in the wooden chair.

"What?" Her brows knit together.

After providing her with the details of the deal I made with the devil upstairs in my apartment, we sit silently, just looking at each other.

"Do you really think he'll stand by his part of the deal?"

Rubbing the back of my neck, I tilt my head and crack the right side.

"I just have to hope he will."

"But, what if he doesn't, Liv?"

"Then it looks like I'll return home and give Alfonso the call to proceed with legal action."

Sighing, I push up from the chair.

"Well, I hope he keeps to his end of the bargain for your and Alex's sake.”

“I hope so, too." Giving a small, forced smile, I go back to work.

As I consume myself in my work, a much needed distraction from all things Damon, my mind becomes clear and focused. While multi-tasking on three different specialty cakes with Sarah at my side, I realize just how great she's become. It’s time to push her to do more of the things I normally take the lead on. If I can get her comfortable with a role similar to mine, she could easily run the bakery when I’m not available.

After talking to Ced about my thoughts on Sarah, something Ced fully agrees with, I close down the bakery and head upstairs.

"Momma!" Alex runs down the hall and captures my legs in his chubby arms.

A wave of comfort washes over me. I hadn't even realized how tense I'd become spending the day without him in the bakery. I lift him into my arms and squeeze him to my chest.

"Hey, little guy." I tickle his sides, causing him to giggle. "What have you been up to all day?" I blow a raspberry kiss on his cheek. "I missed you today."

"Down," he demands.

I place him back on his little sock covered feet and follow him into the living area. Crayons and large pieces of white paper litter the floor.

"What the heck happened in here?" I blurt.

Damon looks up from his laptop. "I got some crayons out for him."

"Where did this paper come from?"

"I found it in the hall closet." He shrugs.

It feels like someone punched me in the stomach. The paper scattered across my living room floor was the left over sheets from a sketchpad I'd stored in the back of the closet. The last sketchpad Isaac used. There were a couple of full sketchpads stored back there as well.

"Are you alright?" Damon sounds concerned.

My chest tightens as vomit rises into my throat. Without asking, he went through my closet and just ripped them out of the sketchpad like scraps of paper.

Turning, I hurry to my bathroom and splash water on my face. Once the cool water calms me, I pat my face dry and walk into my bedroom. Damon stands just inside my doorway.

"There were some drawings in there. Did you do them?" he asks with narrowed eyes.

He knew damn well I hadn't drawn them. Isaac always scrawled his initials in the lower right corner in messy calligraphy.

"No," I quip. "Where are the drawings?"

"Who is I.A.M.?" Damon questions, stepping closer.

"An old friend." I choke back a sob — thinking about Isaac brings back memories of losing him and our baby.

"A
friend
?" His emphasis on friend makes it clear he doesn't believe me.

"Yes. I lost him in an accident." My words are barely loud enough for my own ears. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

"I see." This is all he says before turning and walking away.

Once I collect my emotions, I go to the kitchen to begin dinner. Halfway through my cooking, Damon decides it's time to talk about New York.

"Did you speak with Mercedes about the schedule?" He leans onto the counter, watching every move I make.

"Yes." I nod. "I can't next week, but the following week we can leave Monday evening and—"

"Why can't you miss Monday?" he asks, annoyance lacing his words.

I plant my hands on the counter and turn to face him. "Because, Damon, I have work obligations. If leaving on a Sunday or Monday morning is more important, I'm sure I can put the trip on hold for another week and arrange that instead."

If my words could have physically manifested, they would be flaming with anger.

"Fine." His response surprises me. I expected a bit more of a fight from him. "I will make arrangements for you to fly to New York Monday evening and return the following Monday."

He pushes away from the counter and walks toward his laptop.

"Sunday," I state before returning to the pork chops waiting to be finished.

I can feel him tense before I peek up to see his shoulders bunched together.

"Sunday?" he growls.

"Yes, Sunday," I reply, keeping my eyes focused on dinner. "And before you argue, I need to get back for work. There are a lot of upcoming events. This is the best I could do."

"Last I heard, this time of year is not a busy wedding season," he huffs, sitting down on the couch.

"And the last time I checked, you don't know shit about my business or regular clientele. Don't question what you don't know," I spit before turning my back on him to finish dinner.

He says nothing else until we’re sitting at the table, eating dinner.

"Your e-tickets are on the counter," he states without looking at me.

"Thank you, but I could've made our arrangements."

"Can't you just stop at thank you?" His eyes finally lift and bore into mine.

"I just don't want you to think I expect you to do things or pay for—"

"I am well aware that you don't want or need me for anything, Olivia. You've made it quite clear," he snaps and pushes away from the table. "Unlike me."

My mouth pops open, as if to argue. Unsure of what to say, I close it and remain silent as he retreats down the hall to the guest room.

The rest of the evening is calm and silent. I clean up dinner, the crayon mess, and Alex. Damon surprises me by showing up to tell Alex goodnight before I put him into bed. Once he is tucked in and the crib toy is lulling him to sleep, I follow Damon out of Alex's room and head for my own. A hand on my arm stops me.

"I want Alex to call me dad," Damon states before I can even fully turn around.

"I don't want to confuse him," I say, keeping my voice in a whisper.

"How would he be confused about me being his father?" His grip on my arm tightens, not painfully, just firmer, and he steps closer to me.

"Because you are here now, but you’ll be back in New York soon. You aren't and won't be an everyday fixture in his life. I'm just worried about it," I explain.

"I will be a part of my son's life every day, Olivia." His features harden.

"You know what I mean. We will be here and you will be in New York. I'm just not sure if it’s a good idea to—"

"If I have to call him every day or get him his own webcam, I will. I will also, no matter what, be with him more than I will be away."

"He's eighteen months old," I remind, "I doubt he knows how to use a webcam."

"I don’t' care. I won't lose y…him." Sadness flashes across his face before he releases my arm and walks back into the guest room.

I release a large breath and my shoulders sag.
Time for some hot, steamy water therapy.

The next day passes in similar fashion since the day Damon arrived at my home. However, when Mercedes comes upstairs with me at the end of the day, talking about spending time with Alex, I remember Damon doesn't know about my evening plans.

"You ready for an evening of junk food, cartoons, and toys?" Ced sits next to Alex.

Damon raises a brow at me.

"I have plans this evening and Ced knows his routine." I shrug and walk to my room.

As I enter my bathroom, I hear my bedroom door open. Sighing, I turn and meet Damon in the center of my room.

"What do you mean you have plans tonight?" He narrows his eyes and tightens his lips to form a hard line.

"I have dinner plans. I was distracted, so I didn't get to tell you about—"

"Dinner plans with whom?" He steps closer, leaving only a foot of space between us.

I take a step back.

"A friend," I growl.

"Olivia?" My name parts from his lips as both a question and a warning.

"You don't know her," I snap and turn for the bathroom.

Once inside, I close the door and lock it.

After my shower, I start doing my hair and make-up. Being in a bakery all day, I typically don't wear more than waterproof mascara and some chap stick. Though I'm not a high maintenance kind of girl, I still like to do a little more with eyeliner, blush, eye shadow, and gloss when going out.

Satisfied with my appearance, I step out of my bathroom to get dressed.

Damon sits perched at the end of my bed. His head snaps over to me. Fully aware I’m in nothing but a towel, I tighten the knot at my chest and fight the stupidest urge to drop it and let him watch me walk around naked.

"I'm sorry." While his mouth speaks the apology, his eyes roam every inch of my body.

Under his stare, heat flushes my body.

"Okay," I mutter, moving to my closet to get my clothes.

I grab a pair of black skinny jeans, a baby pink silk top, black heels, and make a stop at my dresser to grab underwear and a bra before disappearing into the bathroom to dress.

As I slip into my clothes, the brush of the fabric against my skin makes me think of his hands running along my body. The way his fingers curled around my knee that night in Vegas, pulling my leg up and opening me wide for him.

"This is ridiculous," I groan as my lady parts tighten, reminding me of how he made me feel something I'd lost years before. With one more groan for allowing this crazy attraction, I force the memories away and finish dressing.

I step from the bathroom and glance over to the small hooks lining the wall next to my dresser. When I find the small clutch purse I’m looking for, I start toward the item and ignore the firm, wide, sexual maestro still sitting on the bed like an invitation to debauch him.

"You look very lovely." His compliment pulls my attention toward him.

His eyes rake over my body, causing a shiver to tingle over my spine.

"Thank you," I breathe.

He stands and approaches me, moving until our chests almost touch.

"This shirt. It is quite magnificent on you."

His fingers graze my collarbone, just under my chin, and slide across the silk, until reaching my shoulder left bare by the halter-style top. My lady parts tingle, pulse, and clench as he licks his bottom lip.

Stop thinking dirty thoughts about the stalker,
my internal warnings scream at me.

Stepping back, I grab the clutch and hurry to the living room for my jacket, keys, and wallet. I quickly kiss Alex's head and ignore Ced's look of curiosity as I make a mad dash out the door to meet Felicity.

The evening with Felicity is mostly a discussion about how Lorna and she came to fruition. One date led to a lunch, which led to another date, which led to breakfast in bed.

"I can't help it if I know what I like." She winks.

I laugh. Felicity is never one to shy away from something she wants.

"So, tell me about your Billionaire Stalker." She settles back into the booth and puts her drink to her lips.

Getting her caught up on the situation was like verbally vomiting all over her.

"You are going to New York with him?" she asks, concern lacing her voice as her eyes round with worry.

I nod and shrug. "If it will get the papers signed, then I'm going to try it."

"What if he chains you to his bed, fucks you into submission, and keeps you as his house pet?"

"You have read way too many Erotica novels.”

She shrugs.

"It could happen." She grins. "So, what if he won't sign the papers?"

"Then I'll make a call to your brother and have him start the proceedings through the court. This is my final civil attempt to resolve this." Sighing, I down the last of my drink.