Page 93 of Damián

“You don’t understand. What we did—”

“I understand plenty, Damián.” I close the distance between us, stopping right in front of him. “I get that this isn’t real. We’re only here because of a fucking job, and we both got horny. So please stop saying you fucked up.”

“No, you don’t get it. This has never happened.”

“Of course it hasn’t… this is my first assignment,” I hiss, fighting with everything I have to keep from crying.

“This isn’t about the assignment!”

“Then it’s personal? Wow, that’s sooo much better.”

“Oliver! Shut up and let me explain.”

And I should. I know I should let him say his piece and deal with whatever freak-out he’s going through. But it took me almost thirty years to finally like someone enough to open up to them, and now, the very first time I feel like I might actually have something beautiful in my life, it gets called a mistake the morning after?

No. I can’t. I don’t think I can handle this.

Not right now.

“No. I don’t want to hear it.” I shake my head. “I’m sorry if we fucked up and made a mistake or whatever. I never should have started… that.”

Damián grabs my shoulders, his grip tight. “Why are you so fucking stub—”

KNOCK! KNOCK!

Damián and I both freeze and stare at the door.

“Who is it?” I ask, hoping whoever it is doesn’t come inside.

“Master Oliver?” Martin’s voice comes from outside the bedroom door. “Your father and the rest of the family are expecting you and your guest at the breakfast table.”

Fuck… looks like this day will only get worse.

“We’ll be right down, Martin! Thank you!” I call out, sounding completely normal when in reality, I’m freaking the hell out.

I turn back to Damián, and regardless of how I feel or if he regrets it or not, going to meet my father can be incredibly dangerous.

Especially without a damn plan.

Crap… I really shouldn’t have invited him… this is all my fault.

But like everything with my life, I can’t afford to let how I feel get in the way of what I have to do. So I take a deep breath, calm down, start dressing up, and get my shit together.

“Hey, look at me,” I say, stepping into his line of sight. “My father is going to test you; he tests everyone. Do not show weakness, and do not ever give him an inch.”

Damián nods, slipping his arms into a black shirt.

“And Damián?” I pause, making sure he understands the severity of what I am about to say. “If there is a choice between talking your way out and picking violence? Always pick violence.”

“I can do that.”

“Take this.” I pass him the lipstick USB, making sure my fingers don’t touch his skin. “It’s the complete list and everything you needed.”

“Thanks,” he says, and shoves the USB into his pants’ front pocket.

“Ah… right… and Rafael might be extra angry,” I warn him. “I sort of split his eyebrow in two a few days ago.”

“You cut him?”