Enchant Me Page 13

  Electricity curls through me, firing my senses until, finally, I hear his soft, “Come with me now,” and my body seems to shatter, until it’s nothing but me and Damien alone in the universe. And in that moment I know with unerring certainty that no matter what happens next, everything is going to be okay.

  When I wake, sunlight is filling the bungalow, and I sit up looking around for Damien. I find him in the kitchen, his earphones in as he talks to Troy about his schedule for the day. “Just shift everything from the morning to the afternoon. If there’s anything I can handle by phone instead of in-person, rearrange that. I’m happy to take calls while I’m here. But I don’t think I’ll get to the office until after lunch.” He pauses, scribbles a note on a pad of paper on the counter, then looks up, sees me, and smiles.

  “That’s perfect. Troy, I have to go. Email me if there’s anything else that’s urgent.”

  “I didn’t mean to distract you from getting into work on time. I don’t want to be a bad influence.”

  “Oh, but I love it when you’re bad.”

  I roll my eyes. “Funny man.” I slide into his arms and kiss him. “And good morning to you.”

  “I’m sorry about yesterday.”

  I raise my brows. “The last thing I remember about yesterday was nothing you have to be sorry about.”

  His mouth curves in a grin. “God, I love you. What would I do without you?”

  “Conveniently, you won’t ever have to find out.”

  He pulls out of my arms long enough to pour coffee for both of us. I settle in at one of the stools by the counter while he leans against the sink, looking at me.

  “I thought a bit more about the videos. The Masque video is still a mystery—I haven’t heard back from Matthew—but as for the Richter vid, I can only think of one person who might have had it.”

  “Your father?”

  He nods, and I shudder. The idea of Jeremiah Stark being involved in any aspect of our life, much less harassing us, gives me chills. “You think he’s sending these texts?

  “I’m thinking that my father has reason to want to make my life difficult. As far as he’s concerned, we made his life difficult.”

  I roll my eyes. “It’s not nearly as difficult as he deserves.” Jeremiah Stark knew all about the abuse that Richter put Damien through. More than that, he’s caused no end of trouble with us, manipulating the press, demanding money, and generally being an albatross around Damien’s neck. But I still don’t understand what exactly Damien is thinking. “What’s in it for him? Your father’s all about the money. Are you expecting a blackmail demand? Pay or the video gets released?”

  “That’s one possibility.”

  “What’s the other?”

  “At this point, I think he just wants to hurt us. Which means he may release the video simply out of spite.” He reaches up and rubs his forehead. “I need to go down there and talk to him.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, do you really?” But I already know the answer is yes.

  He nods.

  “I get it. But I’m not going with you.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to.” His phone chimes with a text, and Damien grabs it, obviously expecting it to be from Troy about some important bit of business.

  When I see Damien frown, I assume something’s gone wrong at the office. He looks up at me. “I’m not going to see him, after all.”

  “No, you should go. You should tell him your theory and then you should watch his face as you do. You’ll know the truth. Hell, take Jackson with you.”

  “I mean I don’t need to go. He’s here right now.”

  I feel my eyes widen. “Excuse me?”

  Damien scowls. “The text is from Charlie. Jeremiah’s at the gate.”

  “Are you going to let him in?”

  “No. But I am going to go see him.” He looks at me, his head tilted slightly. “Care to change your mind and join me?”

  “A walk to the gate, on our own turf? Yeah. I think I can handle that.”

  Damien texts Charlie back, telling him to have Jeremiah wait in the parking area that’s outside the property and that we’ll be out shortly. Although I rush to get dressed, Damien takes his time. Soon enough, though, we’ve walked back to the house and then across the circular driveway and down the short road that leads to the gatehouse. All in all, it’s probably been half an hour since Jeremiah texted by the time we finally reach the gate.

  We step through the pedestrian gate, closing it behind us, and wave to Charlie. As we do, Jeremiah steps out of his car, a brand new Lexus that I’m certain he can’t afford. Unless he’s been selling the Richter tapes.

  The thought disgusts me, and I cross my arms as if to ward off this man.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Damien asks, without giving Jeremiah a chance to speak first.

  “I want to see those kids,” he says. “I want to be part of this family.”

  Damien scoffs. “You gave that up a long time ago.”

  Jeremiah shrugs. “A man’s entitled to change his mind.”

  “Maybe. But what prompted the change?”

  Jeremiah looks between Damien and me, his eyes finally going to the ground. “More people watching me these days. More people asking questions.”

  “What people? Who’s watching you?”

  Jeremiah’s shoulders rise and fall. “How the hell do I know? I keep them at bay. I told you. I know that we’re never going to be close, but I’m not trying to hurt you. I don’t know why you won’t believe that.”

  “Primarily because of all the evidence that’s stacked up over the years. Again, I ask, what is it that you want?”

  “I want those little girls to know me. To call me Grandpa.”

  Damien shakes his head. “That’s never going to happen.”

  “Damn it, son.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  Jeremiah looks to me, but I just stare back at him. This is not a conversation I intend to get involved in, but if it comes down to it, I am one hundred percent on Damien’s side.

  Damien takes a step closer to his father. “The Richter tapes. When did you get them?”

  Jeremiah’s eyes go completely wide, and I can’t tell if it’s in surprise at the subject or at the shock of being discovered. “I don’t have the tapes. You asked me that before, and I told you. I didn’t submit them to the court. You know damn well that was Sofia.”

  “That’s what you said, but how do I know you didn’t have a copy?”

  Jeremiah shakes his head. “No. Absolutely not. I never saw those images before Sofia revealed them to the court. I’ve told you that I knew what was going on. I’m ashamed of that. But I never knew that he was keeping some sort of photographic record, the sick fuck.”

  Damien’s hands ball into a fist, and he takes a step forward. I grab him by the arm, truly afraid that he’s going to punch his father. Which wouldn’t be a bad thing, except that Charlie’s sitting right there at the guardhouse, and while I trust the man, I really don’t think he needs to see that.

  “Damien,” I say. It’s enough to calm him down, and I feel the tension ease a bit.

  “Right before Sofia died, you told me that she owed you money. That she’d scammed you and you were determined to get it back.”

  “That’s more or less what I said,” Jeremiah agrees.

  “You told me what you did to get compensation for what she owed you. And I swear to God, I’ll never forgive you for that, either.” He takes another step toward Jeremiah, getting right in the man’s face. “But what I don’t know is if that was the only compensation. Or maybe Sofia gave you the rest of the Richter tapes in payment of the debt.”

  Jeremiah’s eyes widen almost to the point of being comical, and he shakes his head slowly as he takes a step back. Or tries to. He’s blocked by the side of his car.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he says lifting his hands. He looks between the two of us. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What new tapes? The only one
s I know of are the ones that you released. You can’t be upset with me about something that’s already been released.”

  “You haven’t answered my question. Do you have those tapes?”

  “Hell, no. Of course, I don’t. I told you. I’ve never laid hands on them.”

  Damien finally takes a step back, then another. My hand is in his, and I move backwards with him. Slowly he looks his father up and down. “I wish I could believe you, old man. But I don’t.”

  And then, without waiting for Jeremiah to say a thing, Damien turns and leads me back to the house.

  13

  “I am so sorry you’re going through all of that,” Jane says, looking at both me and Damien. It’s Thursday night, and Damien and I are joined by Dallas and Jane at Cut 360, one of our favorite downtown restaurants. We’re tucked away in a dark corner, but I’ve noticed several of the other customers sending glances our way. I’m used to it by now, but with both Damien and Dallas together, the attention has ratcheted up. Considering both of their reputations, I shouldn’t be surprised.

  “I think the hardest part is that I don’t want the girls to ever see those tapes or photos,” Damien says. “But I know they will eventually.”

  “I get that,” Dallas says. “There’s a lot about my past I don’t want our daughter to know.”

  The statement is simple, but I understand the complexity behind it. Throughout his life, Dallas had worked hard to build up the reputation of a playboy, a man who pretty much slept with anything that moved. It was all part of a cover, I learned, but the articles and commentary about him during those years will last forever.

  Now, of course, he’s married to Jane, and they make a gorgeous couple, her with brown hair and wide brown eyes, and Dallas with his hair the color of caramelized sugar, the face of a cover model, and vivid green eyes.

  But even their marriage was a scandal, because they were raised as brother and sister, and their tumultuous, epic love story — filled with kidnapping and deceit and drama — ultimately ended up in the headlines.

  That’s all in the past now, and they have a darling little girl named Mystery. But like Damien, Dallas worries about what she’ll think of her parents when she learns the truth about their past.

  In other words, Dallas and Jane completely understand the pressure Damien and I have been under. Which, of course, is why Damien is comfortable sharing the whole story with them. The whole story, I reiterate to myself as Dallas asks, “Have you heard back from Holt about how the tape got out there?”

  I give a small shudder, thinking about that horrible tape from Masque and wishing that we had put a kibosh on this particular topic of conversation.

  “Daily reports,” Damien says, reaching for my hand. “But he’s found nothing so far. I have to give the guy credit, though. He’s trying hard. Clearly, he’s as mortified by the breach of Masque’s policies as Nikki and I are that the tape is in someone else’s hands.”

  “Well, I’m glad all of this didn’t put you two off on going forward with your ceremony,” Jane says.

  “No. We thought about canceling the press, but if we did, they’d just dig for a reason. And the truth is,” Damien adds, “I want them there.” He squeezes my hand, then smiles at me.

  “The first time we exchanged vows, we were by ourselves on a beach in Mexico. I wouldn’t change a thing about that day, but this time, I want all the world to see it. The more reporters, the better. The more pictures of my beautiful wife, the better,” he adds, then lifts our joined hands and kisses mine.

  “So we’re just part of the crowd?” Dallas asks with a grin.

  “Absolutely,” Damien says with a perfect poker face. “It wouldn’t be a party without Long Island’s most famous party boy.”

  Jane lifts a glass. “To bad boys who settle down,” she says, looking between the two men and then smiling at me. “So long as they settle with us.”

  I clink my glass against hers and laugh, once again thinking how glad I am that they made the trip down to celebrate with us.

  “And, Jane,” Damien begins, “Troy gave me the list you emailed over as I was leaving. Thank you for the recommendations. I’ll make a few calls tomorrow.”

  “Not a problem at all,” Jane says. “But remember that book is Bree’s baby. Help her, of course, but she needs an agent who loves the work, not who thinks having Damien Stark owing them a favor is a good thing.”

  I turn in my seat and point to my nose, because that’s exactly what I said to him when he told me he was going to ask Jane for a list of agents who might be interested in reading Bree’s book.

  “No author wants to think that an agent or an editor took on her project just because that agent or editor owed someone a favor. Surely, you of all people understand how unpleasant it is to lose that bit of control.”

  Damien chuckles. “In that case, I’ll ask a favor of someone I know will tell me to fuck off if it’s too impertinent.”

  “Who?”

  He levels his gaze on Jane. “You,” he leans back in his chair. “Would you read her manuscript? If you like it, pass it on to your agent or a friend.”

  Her eyes go wide, and she lifts her shoulders. “Of course, I’d be happy to. But I write nonfiction. This is ... You haven’t actually told me what this is.”

  “It’s women’s fiction with a hint of magical realism,” I say. “Her mother’s Cherokee and her father’s Jewish, and she used that as a lot of the basis for the characters in the story. It’s set in Colorado and the Bronx, and it jumps time periods. I wasn’t expecting to like it, honestly, but I did. And Jamie absolutely loved it.”

  “So did I,” Damien said. “And I confess I wasn’t expecting to.”

  “That’s endorsement enough for me,” Jane says. “Go ahead and send it.”

  Damien hesitates before answering, then says diplomatically, “I’ll ask her if it’s okay, and then I’ll send it to you.”

  The corner of Jane’s mouth twitches.

  “What?” Damien asks.

  “Just that Dallas is a lot like you. You want to make everything happen for the people you love, and it’s hard to learn that they need to have a hand in it, too.”

  “Isn’t that the truth?” Damien says with a sideways glance at me. I blow him a kiss as the waiter comes over and refills our wine glasses. Dallas takes a sip, then points at Damien after he sets his glass back down. “By the way, I heard you’re interested in Ashton Stone.”

  I see Damien tense, but I don’t think that Dallas noticed. “I’m interested in his tech, anyway. But how the hell did you hear about that?”

  “He called me up a few days ago. I’ve met him a few times. I’m a fan of racing. Back in my wild and wooly playboy days, I attended a lot of races. After-parties, too. We crossed paths a lot.”

  “Really? And what kind of man did he come off as?”

  Dallas laughs, and Damien and I exchange glances, unsure what’s so funny.

  Dallas waves off our looks. “It’s just ironic. He asked exactly the same thing of you. For the record, I like him, though I don’t know him well.”

  “What did he ask about me?”

  “Well, he asked what kind of man you were and how you’d handle something if he licensed the tech. I gathered that you were interested in something he designed, probably that fuel system I’ve heard rumors about.”

  “So he’s doing his homework.”

  “Maybe. To tell you the truth, I got an odd vibe. I like the guy, like I said, but he plays it close to the vest. Honestly, he reminds me a lot of you. Before I liked you,” he adds.

  Damien presses a hand over his heart. “There was a time you didn’t like me?”

  Dallas chuckles. “I can’t say I disliked you, but you intimidated the hell out of me, and that’s saying a lot. You have that effect on people.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “So did you meet with him?” Jane asks.

  Damien nods. “I think it’s sufficient to say that I’m not on his
favorite person list. Not only did he decline, but he basically flipped me the bird.”

  I see the shock reflected on both their faces. “He must not be as intelligent as they say,” Dallas says.

  “Well, it gets better. Seems he spent much of his time this week trying to poach my employees.”

  I turn to face my husband, certain my mouth is hanging open with shock. “You hadn’t told me that.”

  “It’s news to me as well. Preston just learned about it. A few of the employees who were approached are perfectly happy where they are and reported to Preston about Stone’s advances.”

  “That’s horrible,” Jane says.

  “On the contrary,” Dallas says. “It’s business. I’m sure he wants the best staff, and I’m sure that Damien has the best people. What?” he says as everyone looks at him. He shrugs. “Just laying it out there. I’m not saying it makes him a good guy. He’s definitely an asshole. But what’s his motive? Does he just want these good people? Or is he holding a grudge?”

  “I’m assuming a grudge from the way he spoke to me.”

  “Why? Did you steal his teddy bear?”

  “More like I didn’t buy him one.” He lays out the theory that Ashton was offended by Damien’s refusal to finance the racing team.

  “Have you considered that he might be the one behind your strange texts?”

  “We have, but the truth is, it doesn’t seem to be his style. His reaction to me in the office was more of an I don’t like the way you do business comment than you’re the scum of the earth. But until I know for sure, I’m withholding judgment. Because you never really know about people, do you?”

  “No,” Dallas agreed. “You never really do.”

  “I considered ordering a few strippers,” Jackson said, reaching for his bourbon. “Seemed appropriate for a married-bachelor party, but Sylvia vetoed.”