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“I could use one of those pastries,” Damion suggests.
It feels like another intentional delay, but I let it ride, allowing him to capture my hand and lead me to the kitchen. I brew fresh coffee while he inhales a croissant. I suppose early meetings and sex have made him hungry. “I thought you had to run by the office,” I say, setting a cup in front of him with one in my hand as well, as I claim the stool next to his.
“My meeting ended early, and there were developments I wanted to consider before seeing my father or any member of the board.” He sips his coffee and then rotates to face me. “I don’t think you need to do that interview this afternoon. You already set the right things in motion.”
“Meaning what?”
“Max called me. Your interview has the board up in arms. They’re worried. The board has decided one of the two of us, me or my father, has to go. The vote on which one of us is tomorrow morning.”
“Why is this even a question? They signed voting agreements with you.”
“I don’t think it is. That’s my point. My father is out. He’s going to be a bull in a china shop, and I don’t want attention on you again. Let his wrath lash out at me and me only.”
“First, lashing out at you means lashing out at me, no matter what. We’ve seen this to be true. I think you need me to do that interview, Damion. The board members need to know I will keep your father in the spotlight.”
He scrubs his jaw and turns away from me, torment rippling along the tension in his neck. “I don’t like it.”
“It’s necessary.”
He rotates back to me. “It’s not necessary. They don’t want an accused killer running the company. I told them you’re pressing this with the police. And you should. The car accident happened across state lines. Walker has ties to the FBI. Let’s get some real agents to look into it.”
“I’m all for that.”
“I’m going to ask Max to meet me this afternoon and seal the vote in the morning. I want you to go to the Hamptons, and I’ll meet you there after the vote.”
“No,” I say flatly. “I’m not going without you.”
“And, of course, I knew you were going to say that, Alana.” His hands come down on my shoulders. “I need you to do this. I need to know you’re safe.”
“When will I be safe if he’s not in jail or dead? And no, that’s not an invitation to kill him. But come on, Damion. He’s going to lash out, just like he did when I went on that show.”
His hands fall from my shoulders, and his expression is set with stubbornness. “And we don’t have an answer prepared, which is exactly why I need you to go to the Hamptons.”
“He knows you have a place in the Hamptons, Damion,” I argue.
“He doesn’t know. I bought it years ago while I was home for a month from Europe and visited a friend who had a place there. I knew I’d eventually come back to the States. It was completely spontaneous because I love the place, and I looked at it as both a retreat and an escape. And until a month ago, I had tenants renting it.”
“If you love it, I want to see it. Maybe it can even be the place we get married. So, we go there tomorrow. After the vote. Together, Damion.”
“I do not want you to do this interview, Alana.” His voice is solid steel. “I’ve thought hard on this. It’s going to incite him.”
“So how do we make that work for us? How do we make sure it puts him behind bars?”
“You think I haven’t thought of that? Of using you as bait? When you first told me about the interview, it’s exactly what I thought needed to happen.”
“Because it’s exactly what needs to happen. What changed your mindset on that?”
“Max. The vote. It’s enough. You’ve done enough, Alana.”
“Is it ever enough? He’s only going to be this angry one time. We need to push him to the point of stupidity.”
“He’s not a stupid man.”
“Exactly. He needs to be at his limit, driven to act like a stupid, crazy person.”
“And we want that to end where? A blind rage isn’t controllable.”
“No. Agreed. But one thing is for sure, if he gets word of my interview—say it’s slipped to him—he’ll be furious in the board meeting. That plays in your favor.”
