Master of Death (Hollow #2)

CHAPTER 5

On Wednesday, Damon and I settle into the boardroom next to his office, boxes surrounding us. Interns are searching through more boxes on the floor below. While I would’ve stayed with the rest of them, Damon said he couldn’t think with all of them around.

Somehow, I’m the exception to his little rule.

We’re going through documents belonging to a client. We’re trying to verify that they maintained their due diligence by following our guidelines both for the environment and its species.

I try to focus on the expert report, but it’s challenging with Damon so close. I don’t know why he even wants me here if he prefers to work alone, and he must know I’m missing many calls by being in the boardroom with him instead of at my desk.

Besides, it baffles me that he’d do this type of work instead of delegating it to the interns.

He’s been avoiding me lately and acting distant. So, now that we’re in an enclosed room together, alone, I throw glances his way, and I stare when his thumb grazes his lips, and I think about how I saw and heard this man laugh.

And he kissed and touched the most sensitive parts of my body.

“You’re all set for New York?” he asks.

I nod. We’re leaving tomorrow, and as it turns out, Julia, the executive director, is coming with us.

There’s a knock at the door. Marie doesn’t waste time coming in with the drinks she offered to get us.

“A coffee for you, Mr. Dreygon,” she singsongs. “Almost black, just like your mood.” She gives him a megawatt smile.

“Thanks.” I smile at her when she hands me a green tea.

“What did you say?”

She shrugs at Damon before leaving.

“So weird.” He shakes his head.

“Damon, be nice.” I playfully tap his shoulder. I’m not quick enough to retrieve my hand, because he pulls my wrist, bringing me closer to him even though he’s at the end of the table.

He leans forward and whispers, “Or what, hmm?”

The seduction rolls off his tongue like rings of smoke. With every word, I feel his thumb against the pressure point on my wrist, reason and logic slithering away from me.

“You don’t play fair.” I swallow.

His brown eyes hypnotize my green ones as a dangerous side effect. “I know.”

A part of me wants to run away and hide at my desk while the strongest, most stubborn part of me wants to straddle him and make my body feel good again, rev up the blood flowing in my veins, send shocks to my heart.

Too quickly, he releases me and pulls back, sitting straighter. My face heats up in embarrassment, and I wonder if he likes to torture me for the hell of it. It’s as if he knows I’ll follow his lead no matter what. The thought alone frustrates me.

So, I ignore him.

And even though I want to walk out of that room, I keep reading as if my life depends on it. We have quite a few boxes to go through anyway.

Not even ten minutes later he asks, “Did you tell him?”

The fact that he randomly asked the question tells me he was thinking about me, about us, and that lights a glimmer of hope inside me.

I know exactly whom he’s talking about and what he’s referring to, but my mind hasn’t forgotten his rejections. I want him to know how it feels every time he draws me closer only to pull back.

“Why do you care?”

“I’m merely curious, Red.”

My name or the nickname he gave me should never leave his lips. It’s unsafe. I put down my highlighter and make eye contact with him.

“He doesn’t know everything.” Harvey doesn’t know I slept with my boss. It’s weird admitting it to him, as if I’m backstabbing Harv even more than I already am.

“I see.” His eyes seem to fire off more questions, but he doesn’t ask them. I want to ask him about Ms. Sutton, the woman who came to see him and who I assume is his ex-girlfriend. If he’s asking me questions, shouldn’t I be allowed to as well?

I don’t do it. I know the outcome—he’ll dodge them.

Instead, I ask him if he’s okay. The last time I was at his place, he was drunk out of his mind after leaving the office with Sutton. I don’t doubt for a second that the two events are related.

“What do you mean?” His brows frown as he waits for my answer.

“The last time I saw you ...”

He shrugs, clicking the tip of his pen. “People get drunk sometimes; it’s not a big deal.”

“Sure, sure.” I’m not convinced.

We dive into our work for the rest of the day and don’t interact again until we’re in the elevator, heading home.

I need to let Harvey know I’m leaving for New York in the morning. I should’ve told him, but with our fight on Saturday about Claire, I figured we needed time before I dropped this on him.

The air in the elevator feels like I’m at the highest altitude reachable. I’m focusing on the buttons displayed out in front of me when I catch Damon staring sideways.

I swallow, feeling the heat in my face.

Then he grabs my hand. “I’m sorry for what I said that night.” He’s obviously referring to the night he was drunk and ended our affair.

When I face him, he gently pushes us into the corner of the elevator. My legs are wobbly, and my sex is chanting loud and proud, telling me to get laid by this god.

His finger grazes my jaw, and I close my eyes, lust filtering his eyes as soon as I open mine again.

“There’s no need to rehash. Damon, why are you doing this?” My self-control takes a hike and leaves me to fend for myself.

“I don’t know,” he whispers, towering over me. I can smell the cinnamon-and-spice gum, smell the cologne radiating off him, traveling up my nostrils and increasing my arousal. “You’re too tempting, baby.”

Baby. I loved the word coming from his mouth a week ago. Now that he knows I’m back with Harvey and he’s in my space again, I’m angry.

“You’re only doing this because you know I’m back home with him.”

I lose the battle when he stares deeply into my eyes. “You’re right. I don’t want anyone to have you. But that doesn’t mean that I’m right for you either.”

I want Damon so bad I can’t explain it. Like there’s a magnetic pull drawing me toward him when he’s in my radius.

My phone rings, and I pick up, desperate for an excuse to bail. “Just a sec, Gia.” I put her on mute. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I tell him.

“I’ll pick you up for the airport.”

I shake my head. “I’ll take a cab.” Harvey would lose his mind if he saw Damon’s Tesla up front.

“Gemma . . .”

“I won’t change my mind. I’ll see you at the airport.”

He must bite his tongue a thousand times—a novelty for Damon. The door pings and he nods, leaning forward, giving me a lingering kiss on the cheek.

I can hear myself sigh inwardly. My body trembles, though I make it to my car without looking back at him.

I can’t. I can’t do this with him again. I’m afraid of the damage he’ll do to my heart if I give him another chance.

Harvey. You told Harvey you’d try.

Foolish, foolish girl.

I search through the house for Harv when I get home.

When I make my way to the kitchen, I spot him and Claire outside on the balcony, both in winter coats. He’s sitting on the wood log instead of his chair.

What is she still doing here? Harvey must’ve known I’d be home by now. A quick glance at my phone tells me I’m a little earlier than usual.

In my bedroom, my suitcase and carry-on bag are behind the door. I’m glad I packed all of it last night.

I open my window to listen to their conversation, knowing they won’t see me from here.

“You hurt me, Harvey. How can you be back with her after everything? You know that I love you!”

The screaming lady in me wants to hit her with shredded glass, but all dark thoughts disappear when I hear the desperation, the love that she has for him in her voice.

I knew she wouldn’t be able to stay away.

“You think I’m not torn? You think I enjoy this?” I can’t see them, but I hear some steps being taken. “Claire, listen to me.”

“No, you lied to me.” She’s crying.

What did he lie about? God, I want to know.

Pain pours out of their voices. If I wasn’t on the receiving end of that heartbreak, I swear to God I’d be rooting for them as a couple.

“I want you—no, please, Claire. Babe, listen to me.”

My heart shatters on my bedroom floor at his words. I don’t know how I stomach listening to more.

“I want you,” he continues. “You must know I do.”

“Maybe she’s right. Maybe I shouldn’t work with you anymore.”

“No. Don’t say that— don’t say that.”

“Then why stay with her? You can’t have both of us. I won’t have it.”

He sounds like he’s on the verge of a mental breakdown when he says, “Because I need her. I can’t explain it. I just do. She just ... she was there for me through it all, you know?”

I close the window, deciding I’ve had enough.

I need her .

I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. He wants her, but he needs me. I walk to my bedroom door and lock it, letting my back slide against the wall.

My heart is beating frantically. My fear of losing Harvey has tripled, and I don’t know how to stop it. Without registering what I’m doing, I call Damon.

“Gemma.”

“I changed my mind. Can you pick me up for New York now?”

There’s a pause. Maybe he doesn’t want to. Maybe he’s busy. I don’t know, but finally he says, “I’ll be there soon,” and hangs up.

I try my damnedest to think of anything I might be forgetting for my trip. Harvey doesn’t even know I’m leaving. When I pass the kitchen and look through the curtains, I can see them outside, holding hands.

These two make me so mad.

I bite down all the hatred and stop myself from banging on the fucking window because I’m no better than them.

I’m not.

I can’t believe they’re still hanging out at this time. All this time while I worked overtime and worried that he’d be lonely, she was there.

Claire, who smiles and laughs and makes Harv happier than I ever could. I take a notepad on the kitchen counter and tell him that I’m going to New York for the next few days and that he should enjoy his alone time with Claire.

He begged me for another chance.

I don’t know how to feel about his words. He says he needs me, but he’s giving her parts of himself that he used to give to me.

He calls her babe , and he wants her. I don’t even want to know the rest. I can’t even think about it. All of this was so easy when I didn’t have to face the truth of our betrayals, when everything stayed buried behind walls and walls of concrete lies.

Now it’s majorly complicated, and I need some air.

Seeing them together demolished the anxiety I usually feel about leaving him for work trips. Clearly he can fend for himself.

I change into casual clothes, and it doesn’t take long for Damon to pick me up.

He shoves my suitcase and carry-on bag in the trunk, and we’re on our way. To his place, I guess. We’re not leaving for New York until early morning.

My phone vibrates against me, and we both stare at Harvey’s name flashing through the dimness.

I answer. I need to talk to him before I leave.

“What do you mean you’re going to New York? Why?”

“For work.”

“Oh, okay. Well, why didn’t you tell me?” I hear Claire in the background and feral hate consumes my heart. It’s not pink anymore; it’s pitch black.

And I hate myself for it.

“I was going to tell you tonight, but then I saw you two all cozy together outside.” I bite my tongue, trying to keep the words in. Spoken out loud, they might do more damage than they’re worth.

“Do you have time to come back? Gemma, please. It’s not what you think.”

“Is she still there?”

“What? Yes, but—”

I shake my head at no one in particular. Courage filters through me when Damon takes my other hand in his. I can say what’s on my mind and let Harvey stew on it while I’m gone.

“You begged me. Why did you want another chance? Is this a game to you?”

“No, of course not! Gemma, I’m so sorry you keep getting caught in this mess. I swear I’ll—”

“I’ll see you when I get back. Goodbye, Harv.”

“No, no, no. Wait! Don’t sleep with him.”

I could lie, I could pretend, I could wait to tell him in person. But, instead, the vindictive part of myself, the part contained within each of us, completely takes over.

For once I don’t think over my next words.

“It’s too late for that.”

Silence. Dreadful silence.

The kind that could hack down trees and forests and suck the ocean dry, leaving nothing but death in its wake.

“What?” He sounds unhinged.

We did this to each other. To us.

“Harvey—”

He hangs up.

Why did I say that? Why did I tell him now? In front of Damon? Was Claire around when he asked me that?

Harvey wasn’t supposed to find out like this. Now all bets are off. He’s bound to get naked with Claire tonight. It’s a selfish reasoning, but the thoughts are there.

Damon keeps quiet the entire drive. I’m sure he heard the entire conversation, as Harvey wasn’t whispering.

Chest pain overrides any mental pain I could ever feel. My chest is squeezing, tightening near the organ that gives me life. Funny how that works. How that very same organ will bring me closer to death.

I can’t breathe. I feel the stabs of discomfort on my back.

“Gemmaaa.”

The car stops and I hear the click of Damon’s seat belt.

“Look at me.” He takes my face in his hand. “Gemma, you’re okay. You’re fine.”

I shake my head.

“Look at me—breathe.”

Both his hands slip around my neck, and he forces me to breathe with him. I do, hoping to press away the burn. It’s still there, yet with each exhale, it seems more manageable—bearable.

I finally notice we’re at his place already, in his driveway.

“Gemma,” he whispers into the quiet night.

“I’m okay.”

“You’re not, but you will be.”

His words make me feel a tad better, a tad lighter.

One day.

Day by day, like my dad always says.

“I’ll grab your suitcase.” He leaves the car, then opens the door and takes my purse. “Come inside.”

Damon takes my hand.

I swear to God this is what purgatory feels like. We don’t feel it when we die. We’re not faced with the consequences of our actions then. No, no. We’re forced to stare at our actions right in the face of the wild flames called life.

There’s no after—just now and this crippling state of mind.

We’re settled inside his home, where he keeps my suitcase at the entrance. I feel him when he walks toward me.

A part of me is done with Harvey. I don’t know what it is, but it’s probably seeing them together tonight that resolved it for me.

He’s better off with her. Maybe she can make him happier.

Damon removes both our coats, his lips pursed and his eyebrows frowning. When we enter his living room, I sit on the couch, leaving my phone on the table.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

I’m only now remembering I didn’t eat, but I couldn’t stomach food even if I wanted to. I shake my head, ignoring his piercing eyes, wrapping my arms around my legs.

I need her .

Why is this riling me up? I knew he loved her. I knew it. Is it having them confirm it? Is it finally admitting to myself that I must figure out my future without him around?

My body rejoices when Damon hands me a glass of water, our fingers touching. Only Damon could spring me back to life, with his little touches and fewer smiles.

I take a sip and place the glass on the coffee table. As soon as my back hits the couch, Damon brings me to him, cocooning me in his arms, where I so desperately want to be.

His dark-brown hair is wet—he must’ve showered before picking me up. He smells divine and looks it even more in his black jeans and tee.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“You shouldn’t keep everything bottled up.” The way he kneads my back slowly sucks the anger and sadness out of me.

“As opposed to what you do?” I feel him tighten in response. He keeps stroking me, and it makes me feel better.

“You should eat.” Damon cradles my face with the palm of his hand. I close my eyes, forcing my body to soak up every bit of him that I can before he acts like an asshole again. I still remember the night just last week, in this very room, when he told me in his drunken state we were done.

He pats my hip, forcing me to move to the side to allow him to get up. When he returns soon after, he’s carrying a plate full of snacks.

“You’re different at work versus here,” I mutter as he examines my small rose tattoo.

“I have to be.” His thumb grazes over my finger.

The simple delicate rose stretches along half of my middle finger, with the stem of the rose shaped like a figure eight. I didn’t blacken the insides of the petals or the leaves.

“For your mom?” he asks, knowing I lost my mom to breast cancer at eleven years old. After a work outing, I remember the conversation we had in his car, when I learned that, at the age of three, he lost his dad, a firefighter, who died in the line of duty.

I nod. “Yeah. She owned a flower shop. She was obsessed with roses and jewelry.”

“What’s the story with this one?” He fingers a green-stone earring at the top of my left ear. “You always wear that one.”

I’ll never forget how he mentioned it during the same night we first opened up to each other.

“My mom gave it to me for my tenth birthday. Gia lost the other one.” I chuckle, remembering that day like it was yesterday. “I was so mad. So, when Mom died over a year later, I asked my dad if I could pierce my helix with her piece of jewelry. He said yeah.”

“Green looks good on you.”

“Everything looks good on you, Damon,” I whisper.

I see the tic of his jaw as he stares at the wall. When he greets me with his beautiful eyes again, I let him feed me a cucumber.

“Why can’t it always be like this? Why can’t you keep feeding me and fucking me? Why not accept how good this is?” I ask.

“I would if I could.” Uncertainty and worry taint his features with each word.

“Because I want more?”

“I’m not doing this with you again.” He grabs a grape and eats it.

Too bad—I’m not finished with him yet.

He didn’t explain anything to me when he pushed me away. He might say things, but they don’t necessarily match his actions.

When I mount his lap to straddle him, he doesn’t waste time before gripping my ass through my ripped black jeans. His eyes, though, are devoid of any emotion. He refuses to look at me, as if opening up to me is a sentence to hell.

“Look at me.” He ignores me, so I bring my hands over the bottom half of his face, peppered with a five-o’clock shadow. “Tell me you don’t want more with me. Tell me and I’ll leave you be, I swear.”

I can almost see the depth of his feelings pouring out when we finally make eye contact.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does. Damon, I want to know.”

“What would it change? You went back to him.” He wraps one hand around my neck and leans my body against him, bringing our lips a few inches apart. “Days later.”

“I’m leaving him.”

A scoff ensues. “You’ll never let go of him. And you shouldn’t ... not for me.”

“That’s not true,” I whisper, feeling his hands move up to my hips.

“Don’t act stupid. He knows I fucked you. By this weekend, he’ll have you staying with him and quitting your job.”

Damon’s right. Harvey wants me to quit. But I need my job to pay off debts, and I love my job, and I’m not ready or willing to let go of Damon. And that tells me I need to let go of Harv.

I might take my dad up on his offer and move back home until he’s back from Seattle. Then I can decide my next step.

But then who will move in with Harv? Claire? Henrik?

When he slips one hand under my black, washed-out, vintage T-shirt, I’m aching to the point of pain. I want Damon badly. I can’t remember ever wanting something more, other than my own motorcycle, which I bought for myself at nineteen, or for Harvey to get well.

“Answer the question, Damon. Do you have feelings for me?” The words sound silly coming out of my mouth. And when his thumb ravishes my lips with his other hand, I hate myself for getting tangled in the Damon web all over again.

His sensuality never happens quickly. I have time to pull back, to run away from him before he devours me. His sucking and nipping happens slowly, building momentum. I feel his mouth exude warmth at the touch of his lips, tantalizing my entire body, sending it through a ring of fire, straight into an inferno I know I can never escape.

“What do you think? Do you think I have feelings for you?” He asks, tilting his head to the side in a mocking manner.

I’m not ready to tell him that I’ve fallen for him. He doesn’t have to know that I’d never allow myself to be in this predicament unless I wasn’t already buried far below, reaching the bottommost pit of hell to feel even an ounce of love that he could give me.

So, I settle for the word feelings instead of what I really want to ask, because I know he doesn’t love me.

When I shrug, he drops his thumb from my lips, using the hand that’s underneath my shirt to tease my stomach on its way up to my breasts. He finds what he’s looking for and toys with my nipple piercing, using his other hand to bring me even closer to him.

I moan when he pulls and twists and flicks my nipple ring, my mouth reaching closer to his. “Tell me, Damon.” I’m desperate—my sex is basking in Damon’s proximity.

He grabs my neck with both of his hands and shuts up my plea with a pressing kiss. My hips move, straddling his erection, eager to get a reaction out of him.

He groans. “I want to fuck your pussy again.”

I bite on his lips, his words making me bold and rendering me weak in the knees. But even in my sex-crazed state of mind, I don’t want him to avoid answering me. His high might help him confide in me.

“Answer the question.”

“You already know the answer. We wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighs, pulling on his hair. “I don’t do this whole song and dance. It’d go something like this—boy fucks girl. The end.”

He’s testing my reaction, his eyes narrowed, his warm breath near mine.

“Always? Or since her .”

“Since her.”

He’s withdrawing from our conversation, ready to block me out again.

“Does she still want you?”

To my relief he shakes his head. “No.” He gives my ass a little tap, and I can tell from the expression on his face, that he’s done with this conversation.

So, I grab the plate and finish the grapes, cucumbers, and cheese and crackers, along with the nachos and salsa. There’s nothing like sexual endorphins to work up an appetite.

Then I take my phone while Damon is on his, and see that Harvey texted me. I take a deep breath before reading:

Harvey: HOW COULD YOU?!??

Inside I feel like I’m shaking, an earthquake ready to mark and destroy. I reread his words and close my eyes, knowing he’s angry with me and that he has every right to be.

“What’s wrong?” Damon asks, his eyes darting at my phone. He sighs when I shake my head, ready to go to bed and put this evening behind me. “What did he do this time?”

I watch him carefully, wondering how he could possibly know that Harv’s responsible for my mood change.

“Gemma, you’re strong. You’re not this doormat—”

“Only with you.”

But he refuses to hear me out, as he convinces himself otherwise. “No. That woman, who says what she means, who stands up for what she wants, even though it pisses me off sometimes, that’s you . The you who was always there.”

His words throw me off, but I don’t relent.

“You know what I was thinking, Damon? She’ll make him happier. He just needs time to see it.”

I feel the conviction in my words.

It really is over between Harv and me. We can’t and shouldn’t be in a loving, committed relationship anymore, because that’s the biggest lie we’ve ever told.

“He’s a fucking idiot. You would make anyone happy. You deserve better than him or me for that matter.”

I say nothing as I walk out to the entrance of his house to retrieve my purse.

Once upstairs, I use his en suite bathroom to remove my makeup and brush my teeth. I’m wearing a red pair of Calvin Klein underwear for bed and a long red T-shirt.

When I step out, he’s in nothing but jeans, the top of his boxers showing, giving me a delicious taste of the V - line disappearing under his jeans.

Before I skip to his bed, he pulls me in for a hug. “Are you okay with sleeping in my bed tonight?”

I nod as he eyes my nipples poking through my shirt and presses another one of his long-lasting kisses on my cheek.

“I need you to know, Gemma, if I could choose anybody in the world to be happy with, it would be you.”

Then he lets me go and heads to the bathroom.

He leaves me with those parting words. The kind that give hope. And they make my stomach flutter with nerves and excitement.

I already know how much I’m into this man. It’s only a matter of time before the truth hits me square in the chest.

He’d pick me. If he could.

That’s the question with Damon, isn’t it? Not if he cares for me or has feelings for me. The whole push and pull is his way of battling with the demons inside his mind. The question with him isn’t if he wants more with me, but if he wants me more than his own negativity.

Will he realize one day that he deserves to be happy too?

I’m dying to know what he went through with his ex, but I know to appreciate the small bread crumbs he hands my way for now.

I put my alarm on and charge my phone for the night. Then I slip underneath the satin sheets, reeling in Damon’s warm, spicy, vanilla smell.

Before Damon even comes out, I fall asleep dreaming of my angel.

I finally see all of him as he comes to me and places the straw against my cracked lips—dark hair, chiseled jaw, and eyes the color of raw chocolate.