Page 157 of Damián

Oh… My… God!

…Is this really happening?

“Dami… tell me Law has a car collection,” I ask as soon as he opens my door.

“He has eleven cars… but these aren’t them,” he says, and laughs at the horrified expression on my face. “Come.”

He offers me his hand, but I refuse to move, gripping the edge of my seat. Damián reaches down, holds my waist, and pulls me out of the passenger seat.

He then wraps his arms around my lower back, holding me against him, probably so I don’t run, and looks me in the eyes.

No, no, no…

A jolt of panic crawls down my spine, and I shiver.

I try to step back, but his tight hold on my waist keeps me anchored in place.

“Cielo,” Damián murmurs gently before kissing my cheek. “I want you to meet my brothers.”

“Absolutely not. I am not prepared for this.”

“You are,” he says, his thumb rubbing circles into my lower back. “You probably know more about us than our own families do.”

“I am not talking about intel! I am talking about this!” I throw my empty hands up, flapping them wildly in the space between us. “I don’t have a proper gift to present to the host, or a bottle of wine, or literally anything!”

“Law doesn’t do proper gifts.”

I stare at him, and I point a finger toward the massive, multi-million-dollar Antebellum mansion sitting a few yards away.

Damián chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, he does. But if you think about it, I’ve never introduced them to anyone. So technically, you are the proper invitation gift.”

I glare at him, and he laughs.

Ahhh… this is not good.

I lean closer, resting my forehead against his chest. Part of me wants the contact to make the nerves go away, while another part wants to hide my face so Damián can’t see me freaking out.

“But Dami… What if they hate me?” I ask, dreading that he can see how scared and self-conscious I am.

“Why would they hate you?”

“My father—”

“You are not your father.” Damián cups my cheeks with both hands, lifting my face so I have to look at him. “You are not like him, or defined by him. You are actually the exact opposite of him. I have never met anyone with the passion, light, and compassion for others that you have. They will love you.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Because I l—like you,” he stammers, and I am too nervous to understand what he is saying. “Ollie, I like you a lot, so they will like you a lot.”

Oh wow! Dami likes me a lot?

Oh, my God, since when? Was it since the day at the shower or the—no, no.

Not the time, Oliver!

You are about to meet his brothers. Please concentrate.

Okay. Let’s do this.