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Sofia looks at me with one brow raised, waiting for me to answer, clearly challenging me. I deserve that, but game on, sweetheart.
seventeen
Sofia
I raise my brow, challenging him to see what he'll do or say. This woman is two of mistresses within one body, and she is also a major bitch. If he'd just shoot her like I suggested with my head nod, we'd be able to get down to business. I let my eyes stray to the box on the table again. I'm pretty sure I know what's in there; I keep itching to find out, hoping and praying it's what I think it is or, well, want it to be. Damian catches where my eyes are trained, and he smirks, the dickhead. Then he looks at Slut Wannabe.
"Do you normally go up to strange men, asking them to leave their dates?" he asks as I lean back and get comfortable. He glances at me, this time raising his brow, and I just smile sweetly.
Yeah, no, I am not helping you, jackass.
"Only the ones I know are making a huge mistake. Did you know she has a child? She's probably just using you for money." She's trying to sound seductive but clearly failing.
Damian tenses. Uh-oh, she's going down the wrong path. He may have only just found out he's a dad, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't kill or die for our daughter. Hmm, maybe he will shoot her after all, kill two birds with one stone, and all that, leaving the woman who likes to cause trouble for me and my friends dead and buried, and my husband going to jail. I really shouldn't find him sticking up for me and Mila hot.
Fuck my life.
He meets my eyes, and he must not like the smirk on my face because he snaps.
"I don't know if you're really dense or just plain fucking stupid; not only do you insult a woman right to the face of her date, but then her child?"
Amber pales slightly but regroups, clearly not used to someone not falling at her feet. I snort, causing Damian to growl; he knows I'm enjoying the show.
"I know you can do so much better than that and it's brat," she says with a sneer. All this because I told her to back off Bruce once. Seriously, are we back in high school? I chuckle, which fades quickly with Damien's next words.
Crap.
"That woman sitting right there, looking absolutely beautiful, is my wife." I sigh. "That brat you just insulted is my daughter!"
Yep, he's pissed.
I look at Amber, and she's definitely paling now as she starts to stutter.
Still, he cuts her off, saying, "Walk away before I decide it's time to ruin your pathetic, miserable life for insulting my family," he grinds out lowly and quite frankly, scarily.
She looks at me for help.
Seriously? You just insulted me and my child, bitch, and you're looking for my help. I shake my head and look her in the eyes, mine turning cold.
"You didn't read the documents that you gave me this morning, like it was suggested by my lawyer, did you, Amber?" She pales again. Yeah, she didn't do her job correctly when I picked up the folder. She was supposed to answer any questions I had. All it would take is a lengthy email to her boss, and she's done for, and she's on her last warning for it, too.
She looks between the pair of us. Damian has finally taken his rage-filled eyes off of her, now only noticing the brown folder in front of me.
He pales. Yeah, buddy, you can't expect me to trust you now, right? Did he really think I would not come prepared? I'm surrounded by idiots, I tell you.
I look at Amber and say, "Have a nice lunch, Amber." She takes my free pass and nods before returning to her friends, mumbling something about returning to the office, and hightailing it out of here.
I chuckle.
I look back at Damian when he speaks. "What's in the folder, Malyshka?"
I look him in the eye. God, why couldn't his voice be different and sound all squeaky and horrible, so unfair?
"What's in the box, Damian?" I retort, and he looks up and gives me a small smile.
"Cookies from Mama."
My mouth starts to water; it looks like it's baked goods night tonight. I quickly lift the lid and take a deep breath, wallowing in the scent of my favorite cookies. I snatch one, take a big bite, and moan at the gooey chocolate goodness. Damian clears his throat, but I don't care; I savor it. When I'm done, I look up at him. His eyes are hooded. I shake my head and clear my throat. "Would you rather start here?" I state, pointing at the folder. "Or would you like to start with answers about my daughter?" I know I'm stalling, but he will blow up when he’s presented with the divorce papers. Mr. Townsend did mention the legal documents regarding Mila's free will are at the top, so I'd like to start there before we have to argue.
