Master of Death (Hollow #2)

CHAPTER 9

The interns went through the rest of the boxes while we were away.

Now it’s Monday, and I’m in the boardroom, organizing the documents needed to draft my section of the report for our public sector client.

I’m reading Damon’s notes for this file when I notice him leaning against the doorway, his hands in his pockets, his eyes narrowed as he watches me.

“Hey.” One second near him and I’m a breathless mess.

The truth I recently admitted to myself about loving Damon has me on edge. Somehow, as I stare at him, I know he’ll never love me back.

He shuts the door and locks it behind him, then he walks over to where I’m seated as he leans against the table. Physically so close, yet mentally so distant I could cry.

“How was the rest of your weekend?” he asks. Concern greets his eyes, and I hope and hope that I’m wrong and he does care about me.

“I . . . packed my things.”

The confusion he sports is impossible to ignore. I know he didn’t believe I’d go through with it. When he takes my hand, I lift myself from my chair, ending up in front of him.

“Do you need help?”

My back arches when he caresses my neck, my body perpetually in shivers around him. I shake my head. “I’m good.”

“I’ll get a company to help you move.”

“No, it’s okay, seriously.”

“Gemma,” he looks up as if needing patience to deal with me. “Let me help you this way.”

Silence reigns between us. We’re nothing but loud exhales, lusty eyes, and racing hearts.

“Okay,” I say, knowing that I could use a helping hand, especially since Gia’s expecting. “Thank you.”

“You’ll be solely mine from now on?”

“Yours.” I swallow as he presses his thumb underneath my jaw. My breasts are perking up against his chest, my nipple ring being teased deliciously.

“You know, I saw men staring at your tit during our meeting this morning.” He pulls on my pierced nipple, covering my mouth with his hand when I let out a soft moan. “We can see the shape of your piercing through your blouse.”

I’m wearing a tank top underneath my blouse, but my bra today isn’t padded, so it remains obvious.

“Your point?”

His hand vises around my neck, my pulse quickening in response.

My thong is soaked, and the skirt I wore today is loose and flowy, which means he has an easy pathway to relieve me of this anguish.

Finally, his other hand rubs the back of my thigh, reaching for my ass. “The thought of other men lusting after you drives me crazy.”

He palms my ass.

I feel dazed and drugged, gripping his thighs for balance. “Damon.” I turn around, my ass writhing against him.

He curses, and I feel his tie across my mouth, while he fastens it at the back of my head. He pulls on the tie, the material laying in strings on my back, my entire body arching and ready to submit to his.

“Where should I put my dick first?” His thumb pushes underneath the tie and inside my mouth, rubbing saliva all over my lips. Then his hand moves to the front of my blouse, the air chilling my skin as my blouse parts. “Or here?” He removes my pierced tit from my bra, his thumb rimming circles around it.

“Imagine your piercing rubbing against my cock, Gemma.”

Oh, my God.

I’m going to die.

He’s torturing me with this pleasure, and I’m going to die, my body full of lust.

“Let’s not forget this.” His hand reaches underneath my skirt and my thong. He groans as his lips kiss the back of my neck.

The thrill of being gagged brings me unknown pleasure. And the fact that any second someone could knock on that door—a rare occurrence but not an impossible one.

All I can do is feel him. Feel his hands all over the pressure points of my body. Smell his cologne rendering me light-headed.

His fingers fill my sex. “You’re completely drenched, Gemma.”

Whimpers radiate through my throat. His hand covering my mouth makes me want to be fucked by him so bad, I’ll collapse from the wait.

Damon’s alluring in all his capacity.

His voice. His smell. His taste. His looks. His touch.

“I think my cock favors your pussy.” His raspy voice fills the room in a soft murmur. I rub myself against him, enticing him to act on his fantasies.

A pull on the tie forces my head to tilt back. When he thrusts inside of me, I let out a throaty moan against the material in my mouth. Cold air hits my upper body as he removes my blouse.

I’m so fantastically high from having Damon’s fingers inside me; there’s nothing but my senses working overdrive. No grief, no sadness, no sorrows to drown in. I’m bathing in desire, and I’m not ready to lose sight of this sex-crazed state.

The next thing I know, he withdraws his fingers and my ass ends up leaning against the table.

I love it when he pulls on my piercing, or when his mouth sucks on my breast. I love it when he pushes inside me. Then I feel my thong slide down my legs as his fevering thrusts pick up their pace.

“All day, when you walk around without your thong,” he whispers in my ear, shoving his cock to the brink of my walls, “when your lips touch each other with each step you take in those fucking heels, remember me inside you.”

I whimper. Damon should come with a side-effect warning because he’s a walking, talking drug, waiting to turn my world upside down.

The thrusting stops; the tie loosens and settles on my neck. I catch my breath because he looks as out of control as I do, and I haven’t even run my fingers through his hair yet.

“Shh, you have to be quiet,” he says against my mouth.

Slowly, he rocks himself inside, and I clasp a hand over my mouth to stay silent.

Damon unfastens his leather belt, passing it around my neck. “Do you trust me?”

I nod. “Don’t kill me.”

Surprise and something else I can’t muster roam through his eyes. “Never.”

The belt tightens and loosens underneath my jawline with every thrust. This is unlike anything I’ve ever felt in my entire life. I’ve never taken sex to this level with anyone I’ve been with, except for Damon.

And I have no regrets.

I want to try it all. Everything he’s learned, every position.

I love it when he squeezes my neck tight. I love the possession screaming from his hooded eyes. Not the pain living behind them, but the acceptance that has taken over in the past few weeks.

He’s accepted that he wants me.

The only remaining question: To what extent?

“Damon.”

“Hmm?”

I grab on to his hair roughly, feeling dizzy with every tight stroke of the belt against my neck. “I want to try ... everything with you.”

He drops the belt and picks up my legs, which instinctively wrap around his torso. One of his hands roughly holds on to my hip while the other holds me by the nape.

He kisses me viciously. There’s passion in his kiss, so much so you’d think he’s trying to brand my lips with his, brand the memory of our bodies thrusting, writhing against each other.

He keeps telling me he’s not a good man.

If this is what dancing with the devil feels like, I’d like to volunteer to do so repeatedly for the rest of my life. Because I’d bask in the beauty of hell just to get a taste of Damon. Just to feel his body against mine, inside of mine.

“It’s like you were made for me.”

“I am. I’m yours.”

He curses at my words, ramping up the speed. He knows I’m going to come. He doesn’t kiss me; he watches as my lips part and my body trembles. I feel the muscles of my inside walls spasm like never before.

And he witnesses it all. My lips, my tits, the belt around my neck. He stares at my sex as if it’s the last one he’ll ever see.

And I lose my mind. I absolutely lose it—completely. Every particle of my brain, every cell, is working on delivering the perfect orgasm.

My body shakes. I can’t speak. My vision isn’t acting normal, as if I smoked a few joints. Damon continues plunging himself within me so my hips move in accord to his movements.

“Come inside,” I say, my breathy voice breaking the silence. “I want to feel your cum leaking down my legs.”

“God, Gemma. I’m in love with your cunt.” He curses before his warmth fills me.

I grab his face with my hands, and I kiss him. I want him to enjoy the moment the way he so desperately makes me enjoy mine.

We’re both breathless when we’re done, our foreheads touching. He slips out of me and holds on to my waist while my heels touch the ground.

I love that he can slip in and out of me without repercussions. I love that he didn’t mind coming inside of me without a condom on—unlike the first time we had sex. Being on birth control has its perks.

“I came in to check on you—see how you were holding up,” he says. His heart is beating so fast that I keep my palm against his chest while my other hand holds the back of his neck.

Possessiveness swims through my being.

I want to mark him as mine. I want all the girls at the office to know. That what we have can weather any storm.

I need his reassurance. And he also needs mine.

“This was much better.” I smile when I think I see that smirk of his.

We hold on to each other before his lips seal over mine again, his hand gently caressing my back, in comparison to his earlier touches.

I lock my arms around his head, bringing him closer. We stay motionless against each other, like we have no care in the world. Nowhere to be, no calls to make, no clients to appease. All that matters is the eventual collide of our lips, of our hearts exploding with rhythm, of our bodies flowing with lust.

When our lips part, he kisses my cheek, then lets his thumb finger it in the aftermath.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

I pull my head back a few inches in astonishment.

“Don’t act so surprised, Gemma.”

I swallow. “I’m scared I’ll lose you.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t promise you a future.” He sighs, staring at the ceiling. “But I want you in my life. That’s all I know.”

My mind warns me to tread carefully, while my heart soars at his words, knowing this is his way of saying we’ll try to be together.

See what happens.

We release each other, and the absence of his touch hits me like a damaging wind. He bends to retrieve my thong, shoving it in the pocket of his slacks.

“Back to work, Red. I don’t pay you to look fuckable.” He smacks my behind.

He kisses my jaw before walking toward the door, and I can’t help thinking how much happier he seems.

I start drafting the report midafternoon at my desk. I haven’t had lunch yet, and I know I’ll be here well into the evening.

“Lookie, lookie. I come bearing gifts,” Marie says with Gia in tow. “She was at the service desk when I came back from lunch—thought she looked like you.”

I smile at my sister. Scratch that—I’ll be here way later than I thought.

“I can’t believe you have a twin. Huh. Cool.” Marie leaves us.

“So this is where the magic happens?” Gia looks around, impressed. Actually, it happens in the boardroom, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“Can you grab lunch? I texted you. I was shopping for baby supplies.”

“Yeah, of course. Give me a second. Sit.” I gesture to the chair.

I knock on Damon’s door and close it behind me. “My sister’s here, so we’re heading out for lunch.”

“She’s here?”

I nod. “Don’t worry. I’ll work late to finish the report.”

He waves me off, leaving his desk to stand before me. “Can I meet her?”

“What? I-I thought ...” Words fail me. They simply fail me. I can’t even think of anything else to say, so I choose silence instead.

“Introduce me to your sister, Gemma.”

“Okay.” So, we’re doing this.

I wish I could’ve warned Gia to be nice. Her claws are often out to protect me. I breathe deeply before we join her.

And Damon, like the multimillionaire CEO that he is, gracefully takes over. “It’s Gia, right?” My heart melts at the idea that he remembers me mentioning her name during one of our talks.

“Yes, it’s nice to finally meet you.” She smiles at him. When her stare finds me, I wordlessly plead with her to play nice.

We all head inside the elevator because Damon has “errands to run.” I wonder what for.

“Congratulations on the baby. When are you due?”

“Oh, thanks.” Gia looks down at her stomach, beaming and rubbing her hand over her winter coat. “I’m due end of June.”

Damon nods, looking ahead, and suddenly I can’t help wondering what he’d be like as a family man.

I zip up my coat as we leave the elevator, and Damon places his hand behind my back. I can’t read his expression. He must remember that we’re at work, because he removes his hand like it burned him.

Walking feels so weird, even with a coat on, because I have no thong underneath my short skirt. Each step creates friction between my legs.

Surprise must mask my features when we head to the lobby and I find Henrik waiting there.

“Sorry I’m late.” He stares at Gia, winking.

I walk up to him to say hello, and he wraps me in a tight hug before spinning me around like he hasn’t seen me in years. I can’t see Damon’s face right now, but I can see Gia’s, and she seems proud of herself for orchestrating this lunch date.

“Ready for lunch, pretty lady?” Henrik looks smug, his eyes daring me not to follow through with this.

“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Damon, this is—”

“Henrik,” he interrupts me, offering his hand to Damon. “Nice to meet you.”

“Damon.”

“All right, well, it was really nice to meet you, Damon ,” Gia says, and they start walking away.

Now is not the time or the place to explain, so I tell him I’ll see him after lunch.

Besides, he can’t tell me whom to have lunch with. He doesn’t provide me with any details as to who Ms. Sutton is or anything regarding his past. He knows all there is to know about me, and yet when it comes to him, his taciturnity rules all.

Damon tells me to enjoy my lunch, so I follow Henrik and Gia outside to the busy streets of Chicago. Even though it’s past noon, it’s full of people.

“What was that ?” I ask them.

“ That was playing hard to get. Let him choke on this for a while. I’m telling you, Gemma, you can learn a thing or two from me,” says Henrik.

Gia snorts at Henrik’s answer, walking ahead of us. Her patience during pregnancy is slim to none.

Hen wraps his arm around me and we walk, while Gia raves about how hot Damon is. I shut my eyes for a second, wishing I could tell her to stop talking. Henrik’s right here, and it’s not fair to talk that way when he’s loyal to his brother.

But, as always, Hen surprises me and squeezes my shoulder. “You’re both moving on; it is what it is. No need to sugarcoat things in front of me.”

I nod, unconvinced.

“I give him five minutes before he hijacks your phone, asking who I am.” His chuckle is light and happy, and I can’t help but feel the familiar ease around him.

“He won’t,” I say softly, wishing he were right. I want Damon to care. I really do. This morning’s sex session already feels a century away.

Gia picks a pizza place, and neither I nor Henrik have enough of a death wish to defy her choice. We sit at a table, and Gia grabs the menu while Henrik looks at me.

“He likes you.”

I blush.

“I got the same vibe. I think we see things differently than you do, Gem. You see him pushing you away. I saw a man who’d move mountains for you,” Gia says matter-of-factly.

“I wouldn’t go that far, but he definitely cares.” I listen to Henrik before my phone vibrates in my purse. I take it out, and sure enough there’s a text from Damon.

Damon: Who is he?

I debate telling him but instead choose to let him stew on my silence. I put my phone away and ask Gia about the baby stuff she bought. Henrik chips in about his work, and before I know it, it’s time to head back to the office.

I don’t feel like it. I know I’ll have to face Damon’s wrath and draft as much of the report as I can.

Once I’m back, I work on the report, and a few hours go by before Damon’s office door opens. A few clients smile politely at me as they step out. Damon waits for them to enter the elevator before signaling for me to come inside.

Stand your ground.

“Do you need anything?” I ask once inside, leaning my back against the closed door.

“That’s all you have to say?” He sounds calm, his voice low, but I can see his hardened features. He’s boiling inside.

I nod, angering him further as I bite my bottom lip.

“Is that so.” He lifts the front of my skirt and tucks it in the waistband.

Seeing him in his powerful suit, with his powerful stance, is enough to send a tremor down my legs. He eyes my sex, gripping the side of my thigh tightly.

“Unless you have something to say, sir .”

His eyes dance with mischief and something else at my words. Admiration?

“Tell me. Who is he? The man who had the audacity to be all over you in front of me.” He pinches my clit, and my back jerks in response.

“Who is she?” I stare him dead on.

He brings his lips an inch away from my mouth. “Sure you want to play this game?”

I hope defiance sparkles through my eyes like shining stars. He brings his hand to my pussy and smacks it, hard, urging a soft whimper to slip between my lips.

No one has ever done that to me. I rub myself against his hand, which entices a small tug at the corner of his lips.

“More,” I plead, shocking him.

He hadn’t expected me to want more, to want him to keep smacking me between my legs. The sting only contributes to the pleasure of my arousal, blocking off the minimal pain.

“More?”

“Damon—yes— more .”

He does it again and again, and I cry out when he thrusts his fingers inside me. “I have a meeting in ten minutes, and I’m finger-fucking you. Do you realize how crazy you make me, Gemma?”

Oh. My. God.

I can’t think. I can’t breathe.

This amount of pleasure will consume me. It’ll make me explode, lose a few brain cells. But it feels so, so good for the soul, helps the blood flow through my veins, injecting the type of high I’ve been seeking my whole life.

I’m done for, absolutely done for when he brings his other hand to my neck.

“Who is he?”

“Damon . . .”

“Gemma, fucking tell me.”

I shake my head, moaning when he applies pressure against my neck. This is pleasure for me. I get high off it. Off risks and adrenaline and speed and heights. This is him bringing my body to the highest mountain, and I don’t want to come down, even if it means an imminent death.

I ride out my orgasm before his lips dominate mine. My hips thrash against his hand, my pussy rubbing against his fingers.

He checks his watch when I’m done, coating the evidence of my arousal all over my thighs.

“She’s her sister,” Damon says softly.

“Sutton? She’s your ex’s sister?”

“I never said anything about an ex.”

“What do you mean?” My heart bursts through my chest. “You’re ... still ... with her?”

He sneers. “Of course not.”

“Then . . .”

His phone rings, cutting me off. “I have to take this.” He kisses me, untucks the material of my skirt from the waistband, and lets it fall before he answers the phone.

I need to go clean up before his clients arrive, and I leave his office looking like sex’s advocate. I walk out of there while contemplating his words. So Sutton is his ex’s sister. But if she’s not an ex, what is she?

I head to the restroom to clean myself and still come up empty-handed by the time I reach my desk. I reply to a text from Layla before realization hits me.

Did she pass away?

Why didn’t I think of that? How did I miss the signs?

The guilt, the time he said he promised he’d always want her.

I can’t believe it never dawned on me until today. Everything makes perfect sense now. He doesn’t even have to confirm it. I know it to be true.

He’s never going to let her go. If I can’t let Harvey go, then it’s laughable to think he will after losing her from this world.

I hate the direction of my thoughts. Since the beginning, it got on my nerves that he couldn’t give me an ounce of himself because he still belonged to her. It’s irony and hypocrisy in its brightest form.

Because of Harvey. Because I might have a hard time letting him go too.

I reread a part of the report, unable to concentrate. Then his clients arrive, and I lead them to his office.

Damon’s meeting runs past five, and I keep drafting my report, knowing I won’t finish tonight. The deadline is Friday, but with the amount of changes Damon likes to incorporate and the time it takes for his experts to look it over, it adds plenty of time.

I bid farewell to his clients as they leave, typing up the rest of my paragraph.

“Think you’ll be done tonight?” Damon asks from the doorway.

I shake my head.

“Go home. Prioritize that report tomorrow.”

His voice, his words—they sound cut-and-dried. I try not to read much into it. Maybe his meeting didn’t go well?

I save my changes before shutting down the computer and grabbing my stuff.

As we both step inside the elevator, I realize I’ll be able to use my dad’s car until I buy myself one. With everything going on, I’m debating getting Harvey a modified sports car. I’m not sure how he’d take it—or how Claire would take it—or most important of all, how Damon would take it.

So, I’m choosing not to gift him one. I don’t think Harvey would appreciate it anyway now that we’re broken up.

“Who was he?” Damon asks as we settle in his tinted Tesla to talk. He’s perusing the parking lot, his hand resting on the leather steering wheel.

“Harvey’s younger brother. We’re close friends.”

“I don’t like him.”

I turn to face him. “You don’t like anyone.”

He smiles, and it has the power of a hundred blazing suns. Damon rarely smiles, so when he does, I cherish those moments like a lost second I’ll never get back.

“I like you .”

My eyes shut automatically. Is this what my life boils down to? I’m in love with the man sitting next to me, and he likes me? Enough to want to spend time with me. Enough to fuck me.

But enough to see a future with me? To see us together down the line?

“What’s wrong?”

I open my eyes. “Nothing.”

“What’s—”

“Did she pass away?” I interrupt him, knowing I need to ask while I have the courage to do so.

He refuses to look at me, but he nods, and my throat tightens. All my thoughts about hating her diminish. I wonder what kind of love they had. I wonder what happened and how she died.

“Why not tell me?”

He shrugs. “You were just a fuck.”

Ouch. God, Damon, you can be such an asshole.

But I want answers, so I swallow the damage to my pride because I want to continue getting to know the man I love.

“What about now? Still just a fuck?” I suck in a breath.

“You know you’re not.” He hates talking about this, about us. His body tenses, like his heart is fending off any feelings trying to penetrate those steel bars protecting it.

“And when did you realize I was more than that?” I ask softly, hoping to soften the blow this will cause to his guilt.

He chuckles, but Damon’s chuckle never equals happiness. The only time he laughed in front of me and it was genuine was when we went ziplining before we slept together for the first time.

“I don’t know, Gemma. You tell me.”

I give him a look that contains the fury of a thousand women. “I can’t pinpoint a moment. It happened organically.”

He grabs onto his hair, and the pain that used to register through his eyes when I first met him is back.

I hate seeing it on him.

I wish I could comfort him; I wish he’d tell me more about his past so we could move forward together.

“Honestly, at first it was little things. I noticed your cupid’s bow and the color of your eyes ... then your cute little ears and earrings.” He shrugs, like his words are no big deal. “Seemed innocent enough until we first touched, and I’d spend my days dreaming about kissing you.”

I’m so quiet and attentive to his words.

“I knew you would be different,” he whispers, his jaw tensing like he hates the admission itself.

“How so?”

My heart threatens to burst out of my chest when his eyes penetrate mine, searching for my soul in a sea of dark debris. “There was something about you.”

Something about us , I want to correct him.

Like the deepest, bleakest parts of ourselves were connected. We didn’t need to open our mouths or our eyes. There was already a spirit there, channeling us closer.

“What happened to her?”

“I’ll walk you to your car.”

Just like that, the happiness from his previous words washes away. Instead, doubt takes over every part of my brain as I wonder if it’ll always be like this.

“Good night, Damon.”

“Gemma—”

I slam his car door in his face, my steps quickly bringing me to my car.

I place my phone in the cup holder, seeing Damon’s name appear on my Bluetooth as I drive out of the parking lot.

I hate myself for succumbing to his magnetic pull when, at the last second, I press the call button on the steering wheel.

“You test my patience, Red.”

“ I test your patience?” I don’t think I’ve ever gotten as mad at someone as much as I do Damon. He has this ability to get under my skin. But it’s mixed with so much passion it overrides the fury.

“Gemma.” He sighs. “I don’t want to talk about it. I’m not ready.”

“Okay.” Maybe I need to appreciate the fact that he opened up to me today, even if I wish I knew more.

I love him with every fiber of my heart, and it terrifies me. Will he tire of me? Want to be with other women? Fear the commitment too much?

“Damon.” I stop at a red light, gathering my thoughts. “Do you think we’ll be okay working together?”

“You don’t worry about this. I’m the one who fucked up—this is on me.”

I lean my head against the headrest while I wait for the light to turn green. “Stop blaming yourself. Things happen. I’m just wondering if you think I should apply to other positions within the firm.”

“I like working with you.”

“I like working with you too,” I whisper. “I also think about doing my master’s.”

“We have a paid master’s program you could look into.”

Though I won’t lie, going back to school to get a master’s degree is the last thing on my mind right now.

“Focus on the road. We can talk about this later.”

“Bye, Damon.”

He hangs up.

The silence doesn’t help the sorrow washing up inside me. Sadness consumes me, and I know it’s because of what’s next.

I have no idea what the future might bring.

I put on alternative music, drowning in someone else’s problems, until I grab groceries before parking in the driveway.

I’m leaving Harvey. I’m leaving him.

I take a deep breath.

This is necessary. It’s necessary, Gemma.

I know it, but it doesn’t make it easier. I pull myself together after a minute or two and grab my phone, my purse, and the reusable grocery bags. Then I head inside the house.

My home for the last little while.

A part of me can’t register this truth, like denial is the only thing saving me from turning blue.

I place my bags on the counter, noticing all the boxes in the kitchen. Mine are mostly in my room. They’re probably Henrik’s.

I then check the text message I received from Damon.

Damon: Moving company has an opening for tomorrow morning. Too soon?

Gemma: That works. Thanks, Damon.

I’d rather get this over with and move toward the next chapter in my life. Besides, my stuff is packed and ready to go, so why avoid the inevitable?

I text my dad, letting him know I’ll be invading his home as of tomorrow, then text more details to Gia.

“Twice in one day?” I say to Henrik as he steps out of Harvey’s room.

“I moved in most of my stuff. I just need to bring in a bit of furniture.”

I nod, unpacking the food items from my grocery bags. He grabs a bag of chips and unseals it. Once I’m done putting everything away, I lean against the counter in front of him. He sits on a stool, shoving chip after chip in his mouth.

“Henrik.”

“Gemma, everything will be fine.”

“I know, but you need to keep watch on him. That means bros before hos.”

“Yes, yes. Dicks before clits.”

I shake my head, and he laughs, his boyish grin infectious. “I’m moving tomorrow.”

His eyes widen in response. “Okay. I’ll be here.”

I swallow. “Thank you.”

“Well, I’ll head home. Give you guys some privacy.” I know he’s nervous, too, wondering if his brother will continue making progress physically while dealing with our breakup.

Harvey comes out of his room a few seconds after his brother leaves.

“Hen’s gone?”

I nod, clearing my throat. “Yeah.”

“So, did you guys divide your tasks? Decide who takes care of me when?” Anger multiplies in his eyes when I don’t deny it. “You’re so scared I’ll put a rope around my neck. You know what, Gemma? You’re not worth it.”

I flinch, the words unable to leave my mouth. We’re in a constant confrontational zone lately, and I despise it.

I hate our wars perhaps even more than I hated our silences.

“I will never, ever forgive you for letting another man fuck you.”

“So this whole talk about therapy—”

“Oh, that? I thought about therapy, then I realized, What’s the point? They’ll ask me why I wouldn’t touch you, and the answer will always be because I couldn’t get it up with you.”

The rhythm of my heart freezes. The answer I’ve been looking for is staring me in the face.

I’m done. I’m so done with him.

He has every right to be mad. I cheated on him and I hurt him.

But, at the same time, I wonder, What about me? What about my happiness? He ruined everything—with his attitude, his resentment—he made the choice to act like he hated me on a daily basis.

It didn’t have to be this way.

He could’ve spoken to me about it. We could’ve found ways.

I was going to make us a nice dinner. Now, I’d rather be in my room reading Harry Potter . It’s been a while, and I miss reading.

“Don’t you dare leave. I’m not done.”

I fold my arms, needing a hefty dose of strength to go to battle with him again. You know what they don’t tell you about war? Even if you win, a piece of your soul dies on the battlefield. With every battle, you’re a lessened version of yourself. You become so different, you can’t even recognize who you are anymore.

“Claire would never cheat on me!”

“Then I hope you live happily ever after! At least you can get it up with her, right?” A knot the size of a golf ball lodges in my throat.

He wheels toward me, taking my hand, his reactions giving me whiplash. “Maybe I can try. Let me try, Gemma. See if I could.”

It takes me a second to grasp what he’s implying. He wants us to have sex or be sexual together. See if he could get hard.

“I begged you for over two years . But you never wanted to try. This whole time I thought you couldn’t bring it up, but after seeing you jack off to porn one evening, I realized you could. You just didn’t want to with me .”

Perhaps he was embarrassed about the uncertainty of getting hard. Still, he could’ve kissed me, held my hand. He could’ve talked to me.

I don’t want to try anymore.

I shake my head, shutting my eyes, knowing he’s going to lose it very soon.

“Gemma, it’s not as simple as you think it is.”

“I know it isn’t.”

“Don’t you want to at least try?” When I shake my head, he asks, “Why not?”

“I can’t.”

His laugh is full of spikes and thorns. “So you’ll cheat on me, but not on him?”

I turn on my heel to head to my room.

“Answer me!” His voice sounds like he’s broken beyond repair.

“It’s too late.” I face him again. “Harvey, it’s too late.”

I spend hours staring at the wall as I sit at the foot of my bed after my shower. It’s my last night here, and we’re leaving each other like this. It’s not like I expected a smooth breakup. After last night, I just thought we were on the same track to remain friendly.

Damon’s name appears on my phone, and if my heart could smile, it would. I check the time—it’s almost midnight, and I haven’t eaten yet.

“Gemma.”

I clear my throat, unable to speak. My mind, my body, my heart, they’re all so drained. Even talking seems like a chore. I’ve worked hard on my confidence lately, and in a matter of a week, Harvey has managed to stomp all over it like a madman.

“What’s wrong?”

I try to snap out of my mood. “Nothing.”

“Take the next few days off, you’ll need it.”

“What about the report?” With my move tomorrow, I completely forgot about it.

“Do you think you can finish it on Wednesday?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“Then take tomorrow off, come in Wednesday, and take off Thursday and Friday.”

“Marie will cover for me?”

“Yes.” His voice is so appeasing. I already feel my depressive state of mind vanishing like fog on a gloomy morning.

I tell him to hold on and lock my bedroom door before tucking myself beneath the covers. Then I grab my phone, and a comfortable silence reigns between us.

“I can’t wait for you to be away from him,” he says.

His honesty surprises me at times.

“Damon.” I exhale deeply, placing the side of my head over my arm.

“He sucks the light out of you.”

“There wasn’t much light there in the first place, you know.” I believe myself when I say it. That’s why he fell for Claire before I even fell for Damon. She’s sweet and positive and sparkly.

I’m all rain, quiet, and reckless highs.

We couldn’t be more different.

“You’re wrong.” His voice whispers in my ear through the phone.

“I’m so happy I met you. I love who I’ve become since meeting you. Even when you anger me, I like becoming that strong woman who’s able to say what she wants.”

“Then, Gemma, baby, keep being that woman.”