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“Three o’clock. It might run late.”
“I’ll be there.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Alana
After dismissing myself for a swift shower, Candace promises to stay close and drink lots of coffee while waiting for my return. It’s exactly what I would do, and despite all my worries and fears over Damion’s early, and rather secretive departure, I leave the room with a quirk of my lips that almost becomes a smile.
Soon after, warm water bordering on boiling, soothes the ache of my naked body, the hours of holding myself rigid inside the darkness of the concrete prison, ripe within my muscles and incessantly present. In an effort to draw on something beautiful, not cold and cavernous, I splurge and indulge in the use of the jasmine shampoo and conditioner gifted to me by a sponsor. I love the floral sweetness and luxuriousness of the products, but I barely dare use them as they’re wildly expensive. It had been impossible to afford such opulence when I’d been supporting my family. A roar fills my ears, my heartbeat throbbing in my temples.
There’s no more financial strain, no more demands.
My father is dead.
My mother is wicked and I swear by all that I am, on her own from this point forward.
But, oh, how I’d like to call her and suggest she join me for the interview. She could then explain to the world why we should believe that her lover didn’t kill my father. Maybe she knew. Maybe the gambling got to her, and she wanted my father gone—wanted the life insurance. And surely, she would have believed a car accident looked innocent.
I stand there under the soothing heat of a hot shower, flashes of her at the cemetery standing with Damion’s father flitting through my mind; cutting me to the point that it feels as if I’m bleeding out, the water failing to wash away the blood that will never be enough for Damion’s father. He’s a monster who shreds lives without remorse, even that of his son. He deserves to pay for his sins, and I have been granted a platform to scream his sins from rooftops and beyond, to drive him into a hole. But the truth is, as the cobwebs of grief clear and the events of the past few days play in my thoughts, I’m not sure I’ve anywhere near defeated the beast that is that man. All I did by attacking him publicly was stir his anger and earn punishment for it.
What if I do this interview this afternoon and he comes at me and Damion harder? What if he hurts my mother to punish me? Though she might have earned such a fate, I believe in the end her punishment will be of her own making—a desolate life—unless I drive him to push her into a grave next to my father. Bile rises in my throat, and I turn off the water as the shower transforms into a tiny box without air. I step out onto the mat and quickly dry off, scrubbing my mind of my worry for just a few moments, using the silence to seal away the panic and find a calmer place.
With Candace waiting on me, I run through my hair and rush through my make-up routine at a sprinter’s pace, all before I ever discard my towel. Since I’m not due to the studio for hours, I opt for a fresh pair of black leggings and a T-shirt, as well as red Adidas sneakers.
Candace is not only waiting on me as promised, she holds up what appears to be a pastry box. “I made one of the Walker guys go get us pastries. You’ll find they really are superheroes, able to beat off the bad guys and run errands that include sweet treats.”
I laugh, genuinely laugh, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. I like her, I really do. The woman is stunningly beautiful, sunshine splaying her happy light all about our apartment. She’s also dared to open up to me, to share intimate details of her struggle to her happily ever after with Savage, which is far more like mine with Damion than I ever imagined possible. She and Savage fought a lifetime to be together, divided by family, by the demons haunting Savage. Her story offers me hope that Damion and I can survive the battle and win the war.
That we can really build a life together. That my childhood dream of being his wife was not a dream at all. But a foretelling of the future, when I will marry my best friend.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Damion
I’m still standing next to the Walker SUV with Blake, Smith, and Joey, calculating my next move.
My first instinct is to go to the office where I can face my father, taunt him, and drive him to a completion of what is between us that allows me to end him and embrace Alana forever. But as Blake said, this is a dangerous game I’m playing, and it involves Alana. We have to be one with our actions, something I didn’t understand in the past. I removed her from the equation in the past, but that was never a real option. It’s impossible to remove the sun from the sky, and she was always my sun, my sunshine, the light in my life. I was never going to let her go, and my father knew that all too well. It’s why he kept talons dug into her family, into her life.
Into my life through them, through Alana.
My cellphone rings, and I look down to find an unknown number. I frown and answer the line. “Damion West.”
“This is Delilah, Alana’s director. I got your number from one of the assistants at the studio.”
My instant unease is a blade tearing skin and promising a deeper thrust. “What’s wrong? Did something happen to Alana?”
“No, no, sorry. Nothing like that,” she says quickly. “I told the studio I needed to speak to you about appearing on the show. And yes, they gave it to me way too quickly.”
She’s not wrong, but the studio is all about money, and after Alana’s interview, and the online buzz that followed, I’m not surprised they’d throw me under the bus. “What is going on?”
“The ratings for Alana’s interview were so hot, they want to do a special with her and fast-track it to viewers. Apparently, our production team is approaching Alana about the project, but it seems off to me that you’d agree to allow this to move forward. I mean, in the first interview, no one had any idea she was going to talk about your family. This time, we do.”
She’s right, and it’s shitty as fuck, but it might just help my agenda. “I need to talk to Alana.”
“I’m so sorry for all of this. It must be a heavy weight for you and her. I don’t want to be involved in something that is this dirty. I’m going to express my fears and delay the production. They may replace me, but I don’t want to go down this dirty, broken path.”
“I will not forget your valiant effort to be ethical in a wholly unethical business, Delilah. Give me a bit, and I’ll call you back.”
