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“He seems crazy about you.”
A chuckle passes my lips, soft and unbelieving.
“Don’t let his reluctance fool you, sweet girl.”
I nod, glad for her approval. It’s better than getting fired, I guess.
“I’ll let you be.” She walks out, and I stay in place for who knows how long. I can’t believe she knows. We were so careful. Now she might think we’re getting it on every time I’m in here.
I stoop down and open the drawer again, finding a bright-pink leather journal sitting next to a purple journal inside the box. I grab the pink one, knowing I shouldn’t, knowing if he walks in right this second and sees me peeking through Palmer’s stuff, he’ll never forgive me for it.
But the mind is a curious, curious thing.
When I’m with him, I tend to forget my craving for answers. Now that I’m alone, and he can’t distract me with sex, I know that I need to know more about this woman he wanted to marry even if it leads to my impending death.
Check the journal.
I’m assuming she meant Palmer’s diary.
Talking to Sutton set something off in me. What if she’s right? What if he had something to do with his ex’s death, and I’m here loving him blindly? What if Damon isn’t who I think he is? What if his beauty shields a dark, dark past?
I stare at the door, slightly open.
Don’t do it. He’ll hate you for it.
It’s not yours. It’s Palmer’s thoughts.
I brush off my conscience telling me this is a huge violation. Instead, I listen to my pulsing desires, feeding me bits and pieces of the truth.
Like the first time I quickly browsed through it back when Sutton handed me the box, all the pages are ripped from the spine, some of them sticking together in smaller parts. I debate taking a picture with my phone, but since that might take more time, I simply grab the first stack of pages and head to my desk, placing the pages inside a notebook in case Damon comes in.
Hopefully he’s not reading it every day.
Once I’m situated with the pages from the journal hidden inside the notebook on my lap, I start reading.
Damon loves me. I know this. But sometimes I wonder if he loves me as much as he thinks he does. What does a man like him see in me after all? I’m all smiles and manners and doing what’s right and proper. No matter how much I love him, I know the truth in my heart. We’ll never be cut from the same cloth. He’s the darkness to my light.
Way to hold yourself up on a high pedestal. I shake my head, flipping to the next page.
Damon says he wants to marry me. I’m shocked. He’s never once told me in the four years we dated. Not once. Nothing could’ve prepared me for this. I love him, but I can’t help but wonder if that’ll be enough. Am I enough? For a man with dark desires? A man who wants to press on my neck instead of caressing it. A man who wants to fuck me, as he so brutally says, instead of making love to me? I think about these things day in and day out. And mostly I think of Gregory’s proposition. All the time. He takes up most of my thoughts lately ...
I slap the notebook shut.
Who even keeps a diary at her age? Worse—who doesn’t date the entries of a diary?
She was probably in her twenties when they dated. Was she cheating on him with this Gregory guy? Does Damon know?
I won’t be able to sleep tonight—this will eat me up. If Damon won’t answer me, perhaps her journal can shed some light on his past.
I place the notebook inside my desk, pushing my hair behind my ear. She makes Damon sound like a villain.
So he likes rough sex?Who cares?
The impulse to end my day before five o’clock is a strong one. I google Sutton’s and Palmer’s names for information about her death but come up empty.
Eventually, I kick my thirst for this new quest of mine to the curb, knowing I need to complete this report or Damon will become a real-life villain.
It’s past seven when I’m done, and I email the report to Damon as he walks out of the elevator, pushing the glass door to step inside.
