Silent Screams (Hollow #1)

CHAPTER 13

Time flies when you’re learning and enjoying yourself and crushing on someone.

The next thing I know, it’s Thursday evening and Damon and I are glued to the leather seats of the company’s airplane, waiting for takeoff.

He’s still on his cell, probably answering emails, completely ignoring me, which is fine. I can’t think as clearly when he gives me his undivided attention.

His brown eyes are lethal.

I brought my Harry Potter book with me, and I start reading just as Damon pulls my book down. His fingers quickly skim mine, the jolt of electricity murdering my thoughts before I snap out of it.

“You’re a fan?” My chin points at my book.

“Lord of the Rings. I was a Lord of the Rings fan.” His lips twitch when my nose scrunches up at his admission as I take my book back.

When the plane takes off, my eyes are glued to the window. I close my eyes, letting the adrenaline kick in, remembering the day I jumped out of a plane .

One of the most blissful moments of my life.

There’s no other feeling quite like it. Nothing like having your feet at the edge of the plane, preparing your mind, convincing it to throw itself into a sea of nothingness while your body begs you to reconsider.

Some people fear death.

I fear mundane living.

My eyes travel across the plane. It’s different from your typical crowded plane. I’m not going to lie; the perks are endless.

The privacy, the luxury, the service.

“Would you like to sit on the left wing of the plane?” I don’t miss the dripping sarcasm in his tone.

I turn to face Damon, watching the curious glow on his handsome face. As if he’s formulating an equation in his head this instance.

“I would if I could,” I say, eyes shut, feeling the rush of the plane taking on higher heights while I feed off the vibration.

When we’re finally allowed to roam free, Damon unbuckles my seatbelt and his without asking for permission, my body shivering from the closeness.

Despite the book in my hand, I’m more interested in the person next to me, which is a fascinating exception. Long, masculine fingers skirt the edges of his mouth, my eyes unable to stray away from that magical spot.

“Tell me something I don’t know...” I love it when he speaks softly. It contradicts the hard shell of a man that he is.

Our bodies are so close to each other yet never breaking down that invisible boundary that must remain between us.

Because I have a boyfriend. I have Harvey. I’m loyal to him.

“I’m an adrenaline junkie.”

“I figured as much. You look like you’re about to get off from the simple thought of jumping out of this plane. ”

I expertly avoid his gaze to keep myself in check, hoping he fails to notice my flaming cheeks. Instead, I tell him in the most nonchalant tone ever what I do love.

“Especially sports bikes... but also bungee jumping, skydiving, wingsuit flying, anything with height or speed—I’m in.”

“Have you tried the Chicago Ledge and Tilt?”

I nod. “I sure did.”

For the first time since I met him, he gives me a megawatt smile. A smile that could convince the most innocent woman to join the devil’s playground.

Before I have the chance to explore this smile of his, we’re interrupted.

“Good evening, Mr. Dreygon.” A pretty blonde with a southern accent greets him with eager eyes. I doubt he’ll bite.

Does Damon even know how to flirt?

He’s a quiet flirt. You would know.

“I’ll be at your service tonight. Anything you need, I’ll be happy to help!” She looks at me rapidly, and her eyes are back on my boss in the blink of an eye.

I kind of regret taking the window seat now that her arm is leaning on Damon’s chair and she’s bending forward to speak.

He turns to me, his face as expressionless and stoic as ever. “Anything to drink, Gemma?”

The way he says my name should be a mortal sin. It sounds like forbidden fucking.

Stop, stop.

“Glass of wine?” He probes. I’m more of a beer girl, but I shake my head because I’m tired already.

“One glass of Screaming Eagle sauvignon blanc,” he tells her while turning to face me. She turns red, a feeling of euphoria washing through my core at his dismissal.

We talk about sport bikes, and he tells me that he sold his a few years back. He doesn’t seem like the type to own a bike, and I find him even more attractive for it.

“How come?” I’m fingering the pages of my book to keep myself busy while I wait for his answer. My heart is beating erratically. We’re only talking, but my arteries, my tongue, my thighs are on fire. Burning up so bad I want to set my body free.

He shrugs. “Almost got into an accident. That was the end for me. I decided to get my thrill with fast cars instead.”

I nod, a lump forming in my throat. How pathetic to get this emotional over a simple passion that I used to love? Or maybe it has nothing to do with the bike and everything to do with the freedom that I lost.

I’m glad he doesn’t ask about my bike. It might lead to many questions I prefer not to answer.

“You don’t strike me as a junkie.”

“Who says I am?” His brow rises, challenging me, and I bite. Oh God, I gladly bite.

“Well... are you?” I make myself comfortable in my seat using the blanket they handed me before takeoff.

“I get my high off other things . . .”

“From drugs?” I ask innocently.

“I’ve experimented. But don’t play coy; you know what I’m talking about.” The way he eyes me makes me forget who awaits me back home. Makes me forget that I shouldn’t want his eyes roaming over my figure, that I shouldn’t want his lips to steal a taste.

He’s talking about sex. And I bet he’d be good at it too.

One look at him, and knowing how he talks, makes decisions, leads, and operates on a daily basis, I already know that he’d be master of the bedroom.

He’d send me on a trip around the sun.

“Close your eyes, sleep, Gemma. I’ll wake you when we land.” His voice is soft, music to my flesh and bones. I’m mesmerized by it .

And so I close my eyes, my mind exhausted from barely having slept last night. I kept thinking over the next three days, but I’m here now and I’m away from Harvey.

And I’m okay.

Damon’s and my rooms are next to each other. The air between us is thick, warm, and palpable. My body is rejoicing, vying for any and every ounce of attention from him.

Is this how Harvey feels for Claire?

The thought shuts me down from Damon instantly.

He hands me my key card, and I’m careful not to let the tip of my fingers graze his. I nod to him and say nothing else.

I slide the card and push the door handle, ignoring the imposing beautiful man behind me. Even with my back to him, I can feel the sexual energy, the tension—like he’s begging me to turn around so he can do very, very bad things to me.

My body would love it.

My pussy would die for it.

I could scream his name so loud he’d need to bury half his fist inside my mouth.

But my heart would die a slow death.

My mind blackened with poison.

I won’t cheat on Harvey.

I try to convince myself that I’m not cheating, not even a little bit. That what we’re doing is perfectly fine. Except it’s not.

It’s really, really not.

The moisture in my thong is as good an indication as any.

I see him walk to his room right before I close the door, bringing in my small carry-on.

I exhale loudly and survey the luxurious room. The queen-sized bed looks mighty comfortable.

I take a shower, leaving my hair dry, and wrap the softest cotton robe around my body with nothing underneath as I head to bed, throwing myself over it with a smile.

I’m at a Four Seasons Hotel for my job.

A job that I love, working for a man I admire. I’m happy that I came. I needed this. I needed time away from home doing something I always promised myself I’d do.

Travel. Try different foods. Different things.

I text Harv, letting him know I landed. In case he wants to know. I leave a message for Gia too.

Then my cell phone rings. It’s Damon. I programmed his number in when Katherine gave it to me the first day. I’m sure she gave him my number as well.

Though it’s the first time he’s used it.

My thumb hovers over the accept call button, my mind neurotically debating answering or feigning sleep.

I take the call.

“Are you hungry?” his voice is hoarse.

I remove the call display, eyeing the home background photo on my phone. It’s of Harvey, on one of our bike rides in a secluded area. I trace his smile as if it could bring it back onto his lips.

No such thing. Not anymore.

“Gemma . . .”

My heart thumps-thumps-thumps.

I can’t shake off these feelings. Talking to Damon is equivalent to jumping out of a plane. And that’s terribly, terribly dangerous.

“I am, but it’s almost midnight.”

“I can pick up something quick, or did you want to order a chicken salad from room service?” He probably saw me eating it at my desk a few times.

My body wants to invite him in so badly, because this is what he wants to know, isn’t it? My mind, however, is telling me not to do it, not to ruin what Harv and I have .

Had.

“Okay . . . come.”

I hear a small grunt before the call ends. I’m second-guessing my decision every step I take toward the hotel room door after he knocks.

Did it ever feel like this with Harvey? In the beginning? Even I can’t lie to myself. Everything with Damon is different, explosive. Everything is more, and I’m afraid because that’s riskier than wanting to play around in the sheets.

Damon doesn’t strike me as someone who wants more.

I breathe and release, telling myself that I’ll use this opportunity to get to know him better.

I can control myself.

I open the door, and he’s standing there freshly showered; his dark hair ruffled up at the top. He’s in a black T-shirt and dark jeans, and I’m like a black wolf, unable to keep my mouth in check.

“I ordered already.”

He looks so different without his suit on, and by God, he smells like my next mistake. I want to push him on the bed and untie my robe. Instead, I sit on the bed as far from him as I possibly can while he sits on the couch located in the right corner of the room.

For a minute, we don’t say a word. All he does is let his gaze travel from my feet all the way up my legs.

I forgot that I wasn’t wearing anything under the robe. A hunger settles in the pit of my stomach, and the simple friction of sliding my legs against one another doesn’t provide me any relief.

“Are you deliberately trying to tease me?” He’s up and ready for the door.

“I can get under the covers until our food comes...” I leave the bed and walk up to him, offering my weak solution.

He should leave. Let him leave.

He scoffs. “Get under the covers? Gemma, all I can think about is getting you under them.” He corners me against the wall, one hand on each side of my face.

I say nothing, absolutely nothing. I can’t even breathe.

I can’t breathe.

Damon takes hormones and lust to a whole new stratosphere, and I don’t know if I even want to make it out untouched.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He shakes his head, tipping my chin up with his forefinger. “We can’t. You’re my assistant, and you’re very fucking taken.”

I gulp. How selfish of me to need a reminder, while Harvey’s sleeping peacefully and innocently in his bed.

Or so you think . . .

Don’t justify your mistakes!

“What if I wasn’t . . . hypothetically . . .”

I suck in a breath, waiting for his answer. I wait and I wait, and I want to ask the question again. I want to know his answer.

I’m dying to know.

His thumb skirts my bottom lip, pulling it down, over and over, until my mind turns blank.

“Hypothetically... I would fuck you so hard against this wall, the entire floor would hear us.”

I’m drowning, drowning, drowning.

I need to come up for air.

My fingers are practically shaking by the time they reach his face. It’s spectacular. Carved immaculately. My hands are experimenting around his neck when he swallows deeply.

“We can’t . . . I need you . . . to keep working for me.”

I nod, knowing he’s right. Despite the butterflies he gives me, despite how every cell in my body is convincing my mind, my heart, to take the plunge and go for it. Go for him.

I know that I can’t and I won’t. I’d never be able to forgive myself.

I’d hate myself.

“Is this your way of telling me I’m a good assistant?” My head cocks to the side, and I’m teasing, lightening up the mood. The twitch of his lips sends shivers down my spine.

That’s Dreygon’s way of smiling.

He ignores my comment completely, his hand reaching for my neck. Suddenly he’s serious and I have a feeling he’s about to say something important.

“I don’t know what you have... with him .” He looks away, pensive. When he looks back, he’s almost pleading. “I’m not worth it... I don’t fuck and stay. You’ll never get the white picket fence and the two-point-five kids with me. So you shouldn’t do this to him.”

My gut twists with guilt at his words—at his reminder of my loyalty to Harvey. But my neck? It’s warm, spreading the heat all around me.

That’s when I notice the pain written all over his eyes.

He’s been hurt too. Deeply.

I imagine at twenty-nine years old, it’s almost predictable.

“I’m serious, Gemma.” His fingers squeeze around my neck, gently. “Don’t forget.”

I move away from the wall, away from him, because it’s too much.

God, what am I thinking? What am I even doing with another man in my hotel room past midnight?

Why did he have to be the one to remind me not to screw over Harvey?

“I’ll send your food to your door when they come,” I whisper, grateful for his decent warning. Not many men would’ve bothered. Many would’ve taken whatever I had to offer and left after they’d broken all that they could.

He nods. “Be at my door at nine a.m. sharp.” And with that, he’s gone. I lock the door behind him, waiting for my food while I sit cross-legged on the bed. When my salad comes, I eat despite having lost my appetite.

Dread fills my insides, and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s hope? Damon gave me false hope for something that was never going to happen, something I’d never even allow no matter how much I wanted it deep down.

And now it’s gone.

I knock on Damon’s door at nine o’clock on the dot. We head downstairs, where the event is being held all day in one of the ballrooms. There’s already a buzzing crowd running around everywhere, a technical team, assistants making sure everything is ready for the guest speakers.

Damon stares out at the hectic atmosphere with a coffee in hand as we’re seated at our table. I’m making name tags for recent additions with the event coordinator for Green Earth Revival.

“Ready?” I ask Damon.

He nods, his eyes burning a hole straight to my heart. And that’s a stupid, stupid assumption because I’m sure he’s simply staring at my chest. I’m wearing a navy-blue skirt with a light blue blouse and light blue suede heels.

The outfit sure got Damon’s attention this morning. Perhaps tight skirts aren’t as bad as I thought them to be.

I wonder what I’m doing here. I mean really doing here. The event wasn’t even organized by our firm. Katherine had prepared all that needed to be done.

It can only mean one thing. He wanted me here.

And I did, too, even if I was reluctant to come and leave Harvey alone. For the first time in a while, I feel like I can breathe and grow and not have to tiptoe around Harv.

Maybe he needs it as much as I do. Maybe a boys’ weekend at the cottage getting some fresh air will do him good. Maybe he’ll come back happier.

When ten o’clock rolls around, the room is fully stocked with businesspeople in suits and some in jeans and T-shirts. I know when Damon takes the steps to the stage to give his speech that I’m glad to be here.

When he lays his hands atop each side of the lectern, all eyes are on him, and I notice how often he directs his gaze back at me.

Even though I drafted the speech, I’m like a woman in fantasy novels, fawning over a man, staring stupidly at him, knowing the burn that awaits me.

Which is why I need to watch myself. He told me in not so many words that he wouldn’t give me more. That he wasn’t worth it. Worth throwing everything away, everything that I have with Harv, for a man who doesn’t want more .

I can control myself when he’s near me. He’s my boss, and I take this job seriously. It could lead to a higher position within the company one day.

But the fantasizing.

I can’t help myself.

It’s the only hope I get these days. The only ray of sun to my gloomy, rainy days.

Everyone, and I mean everyone, stands up to applaud him when he finishes. The way he says thank you into the microphone could make the people here want to throw their undergarments at him.

Damon comes and sits next to me at our table. Many know him, so he introduces me to them before another speaker takes the stand and silence fills the room once more.

I lean forward, whispering in his ear. “Good job, sir.”

The movement earns me a crude stare from an elderly lady at our table, so I reposition myself on my chair. I face the speaker when a hand clasps over my knee.

I look back to Damon, who squeezes my knee, then removes his hand as his eyes avoid mine. This man confuses me. One second he’s miles away, the next he’s trying to bring me closer.

He can’t do that .

He can’t warn me away only to reel me back in with light touches.

I’ll lose my mind. I’ll want more. More than I already do. More than I should.

I push away every thought of the two men in my life and simply focus on the woman speaking front and center. After the last speaker gives his presentation, the silent room erupts into loud laughter and conversation as we all eat and mingle.

I force myself to converse with a few people. So does Damon. Although, verbose is not the way I’d describe him.

He attracts people to him, yet he has no intention of giving much of himself away. Which is why I should tread lightly.

After lunch, many more guest speakers talk about the environment and climate change, as scientists, biologists, businessmen, and environmentalists all take the stage.

Facts and data and opinions are given, and I take it all in. It has been a while since I learned this much. When things go wrong, very wrong with someone you love, learning new things loses its appeal. All you focus on is breathing, sleeping, and thinking about your loved one.

This is probably why I’m soaking it all up. Because Harvey’s better now, and it’s time I learn again. For myself. For my future.

The only question is, does Harvey want to be part of my future?

By the time evening comes, Damon and I follow the line-up for the environmental fair from many high school finalists around the world. My feet are in so much pain, even the two glasses of champagne don’t help me forget it.

It's past nine in the evening when Damon and I are finally seated at a luxurious restaurant in a private corner with crystal chandeliers dangling all over the place.

“Thanks for letting me come with you. I learned a lot today.”

The glass of wine touches his lips before he speaks. “Tomorrow morning, I’ll need you to go through the file I emailed you earlier and type up a brief report. We also have a meeting in the afternoon.”

“Okay.”

I’m eating steak with asparagus and baby potatoes. We eat in silence, unable to avoid eye contact. At least eating gives me a good reason to swallow.

“You’re a good speaker.” I break the ice. This all feels so different to me. The private plane. The business suits. The wine. The fancy restaurant.

“Years of practice.”

“Do you believe? Do you believe we can make a difference for the planet?”

He seems to reflect on my question for a few seconds before he responds. “I do. We’re not perfect, but we can certainly come up with innovative ways.”

“It’s a tough balance to achieve.” I glance around the restaurant. “Especially in the world you live in.”

He leans forward. “I waited until I was twenty-five to buy the company. I got a lot more money than a man that age knows how to deal with from my grandfather’s estate. I invested, bought shares, got lucky... and so on. When I created this firm, it was with the sole purpose of having enough money that I can’t be easily bought. That doesn’t mean they don’t try.”

I admire his success, and at such a young age.

“And people don’t complain about the firm owning a private plane?” I already know they do; I read up on it online before my interview, and the only reason some comments were lenient is because the CEO’s hot.

“Sure.” He shrugs. “It makes the news. I brush it off and explain its business motive.”

After our plates are cleared, the waiter comes back and asks if we’d like dessert. Damon declines without asking me—which doesn’t surprise me. He pays, and we take a walk to a nearby beach .

His idea, not mine. Though I have to take full responsibility. I shouldn’t be walking on a beach, barefoot, heels in hand, this late in the evening with my boss.

Despite the ache in my feet, the water in front of us is so quiet and serene, I can’t look away.

Nature in its barest form.

But it’s more than that.

It’s being here with him that makes me feel everything tenfold. It’s his presence and his smell, his hair and his eyes. It’s as if someone injected something into my arm, something that allows me to be vulnerable to this man at the expense of hurting the one back home.

I haven’t known Damon long and yet, here we are, a force of nature in front of us with its calming abilities, and I’m dying to take his clothes off. I’m dying to own a piece of him.

As we walk, I stare at his profile.

I wonder if he’s ever fully trusted anyone. And a small thought pops into my mind, shedding light on the truth: I want to earn his trust.

But worst of all, there’s a tiny voice inside my head thinking over what it’d be like if Harv and I were able to walk like this, side by side, ever again. I want to believe it’d make us happy together, yet I’m not sure it would. And the thought is enough to spread panic across my veins, knowing Harv and I might be at a point of no return.

I gather my wits before we continue walking in silence until we reach a bench.

“Favorite ice cream flavor?” he asks randomly, and I’m so taken aback I don’t even respond. He waits and waits until I finally smarten up.

“Chocolate mint.”

He nods and leaves me alone. I sit down while he takes long strides toward what I now see is an ice cream truck. Why one is open this late is beyond me. It’s nighttime and a little chilly .

When he comes back, he has a small smile on his face, and I want to take a picture, if only to look at when I’m feeling down.

“I shouldn’t have taken you to La Boucherie. It’s not your style.”

I shrug, thanking him for my ice cream, and taking a small scoop with the spoon. “I enjoyed the experience.”

And the company.

“Besides, this isn’t a date, so you shouldn’t worry about pleasing me,” I say. He licks his spoon, slowly, something I can’t pinpoint overriding his pupils. “Do you... ever date?”

He mentioned only fucking and leaving. He must’ve had one girlfriend at least. The seconds tick by and I get no answer.

We finish our ice cream, and it irks me the way that he won’t ever answer my questions about his love life. Sure, it’s personal, but he makes me too curious to know more when he tells me he wants to fuck me against the hotel room wall.

I bite my tongue, thinking it through. Deciding whether it’s worth ruining such a good evening. I can’t remember the last time I was this content and blissfully happy.

The moment his feet touch the ground and he’s throwing away our cups, I decide to let it go. It’s not worth it. Maybe one day he’ll tell me.

We take a cab back to the hotel, both quiet. It’s not until we reach my room that I feel his empowering presence behind me, getting closer, nearing my body.

“Goodnight, Gemma.”

I turn to face him, my body leaning on the door. “Thank you” is all I say.

He nods and disappears toward his room. In the blink of an eye, he’s out of sight, though not out of mind.

Once in my room, I head for the bathroom, dropping my clothes on the floor before stepping into the shower. I let the heat slightly pain my body. I’d rather focus on that than think about the feelings that are coursing through me .

I can’t know for sure if this is just a crush or if I’m falling in the deep end of a dark lake.

As soon as I’m done, I grab my long Harry Potter shirt and smell it.

It reminds me of home.

I take my phone from the charger and wonder if Harvey’s still up, considering the two-hour time difference. He hasn’t texted me all day. I doubt he’s up, but I text him anyway.

Gemma: Having fun?

It doesn’t take him long to answer.

Harvey: Yeah . . . how’s LA?

My heart skips a few beats the same way it always does whenever he questions me about something in my life. Because it’s so rare. I cherish these moments.

Gemma: I had a conference all day then a business dinner.

Harvey: Some business dinner that must’ve been.

My heart rate accelerates as I stare at his message too many times to count. Is he referring to the time I’m texting him at? It’s almost midnight.

Or does he know? Is he on to me? Does he know that I’m feeling things for my boss? That I’m smiling thinking about another man who isn’t him?

Can he sense the gash of my betrayal?

Gemma: What is that supposed to mean?

He doesn’t reply and I wish I hadn’t answered, instead hoping that it might’ve made him want to double up his efforts in our relationship.

I’m getting sick of Damon’s constant mood swings. What I expected would be a relaxing Saturday morning working on my report ends up with him knocking loudly on my door at nine in the morning. Luckily, I had already showered and changed into jeans and a T-shirt before he showed up.

Now, he’s hovering over me as I work. It’s as if he’s afraid I’ll forget to do things, so he hounds me.

“Why don’t I let you know when I’m done?” I offer him a sweet smile but really, I want him out of my hair.

He has the decency to look pleased. “Are you kicking me out?”

“I’ll write the report and then you can offer feedback.” He seems taken aback, like Katherine would’ve never dared tell him so, or maybe it’s me. Maybe he couldn’t see the backbone I had until now.

Neither could I.

He nods and looks back one last time as if he has a few choices of words at the tip of his tongue. Then he leaves and, finally, I work in peace.

I read the documents he sent to my email on my work laptop and make notes highlighting a few things. It takes me a while; some documents are so technical I have to read the paragraphs several times.

Eventually, I draft the report, hoping it’s good enough for Mr. Dreygon, because that’s who he is when I work. His personality takes on different colors.

A few hours later, I pick up Gia’s phone call as I finish the final touches to my report. I send it off to Damon .

“How’s your work trip going so far? You’re back home today?”

“Yeah, I’ll be home tonight. It’s good. The conference was inspiring. How’s Athena?”

“She’s in the yard making a snowman with James. You missed the snow we got last night. Enjoy LA.” She sighs. “I’m glad you went, Gemma.”

As soon as I hear a knock, I hang up with my sister and make my way to the door. Seeing Damon’s beautiful face does something to me. Seeing him there makes me feel alive.

It makes me happy .

“Meet me at the café on the first floor in fifteen. We’ll review the report then head straight to the meeting. Bring your laptop.”

He’s one hundred percent professional, detached; he can’t even bother looking at me. Is it because I asked him to let me work in peace this morning?

Whatever we shared this weekend is gone. Now replaced by his typical businesslike demeanor.

But I can get behind this. I have to.

I can’t keep thinking about him.

He walks away, and I close the door to get ready. I put on black pants with a white blouse and Gia’s burgundy heels. I coat my lashes with mascara and my lips with gloss, making sure I have everything I need before going downstairs.

When I meet Damon, he’s on his iPad, probably reading my report. I sit across from him, and the waitress comes to set down tea and water for me.

“I ordered for you.”

I simply stare at him without responding, but inside I miss the happiness I felt earlier as he stood at my hotel room door. Now, he’s looking at me like he wants a reaction out of me, and I won’t give him one.

So you’re a control freak who pushes people away? So, what? If anything, it might be to my benefit .

“Thanks.”

He keeps reading, and I sip on my tea until our food comes. He ordered bacon, crepes, and fruit, my stomach growling in appreciation.

He doesn’t even acknowledge me. I so badly want to ask him what on earth is his problem, but I hold back. I don’t want to lose my job, and I don’t know him enough to know what he’s capable of.

I check his email after breakfast and set off to make the revisions to the report. His comments are logical, brilliant suggestions that take a decent report to a top-notch one.

I admire his work ethic. I really do. I believe I can learn a lot from this man.

If only I could keep my feelings in check. Or my infatuation with him. He’s got a pretty face, though that doesn’t mean that his soul is beautiful.

We cab to the meeting in complete silence, both on opposite ends of the backseat. The fact that he gazes out the window gives me a minute to appreciate the view.

The man was born to wear suits.

At our destination, he takes long strides ahead of me, and I try to keep up, constantly wishing I could rock sneakers to keep pace. He’s doing it on purpose... doing everything to keep me at arm’s length.

I ignore Damon in the elevator. Maybe I’m being immature, but I need to regain focus, some perspective as to why I even care for him.

The front desk assistant of the tenth floor leads us to a boardroom, where Damon holds the glass door for me as we enter.

We’re meeting with the CEO and chief advisor of The Burkett Estate, a prominent real estate company with offices in New York, LA, and Dallas.

They’re hoping to build five condominium towers in Vancouver, Canada, which wouldn’t usually pose an issue. Except they’re building around a protected and conserved area. Which is why the case is presently being argued in court.

Our job is to make recommendations as to how they can meet their goal while lessening the environmental impacts to the best of their abilities and threading inside the realms of the law.

This is where our own legal advisors come in.

“Mr. Dreygon, you’ve spoken to my chief advisor, Cora Smith.” The CEO, Bernie Burkett, offers by way of introduction. The older lady with golden hair greets both of us before Damon tells them my name.

We all have a seat, and I sense from one swift look at the CEO that he isn’t thrilled about this meeting whatsoever.

“You’re wasting my time, Dreygon. Wasting it. And it’s costing money. The city’s hounding my ass to see me implement your report . One I’ve yet to see.”

“It’s being finalized as we speak. You’ll get the report by end of day tomorrow.”

“Why don’t you cut me a deal?” Burkett looks to Smith, then to Damon. “It won’t be the first time. Go easy on your report. I don’t need the court slowing down my project any more than it already fuckin’ has!”

I’m looking down at Damon’s iPad, trying to avoid being in the middle of this confrontation. Trying to forget the fact that he mentioned Damon accepts deals.

Was Damon lying when he said we were a neutral party? I’m not na?ve. I know he can’t always do much between multi-billion-dollar industry and government entities, but I’d at least expect a fight from him.

“Bernie, that’s not my problem.” Damon inches closer in his chair. “Frankly, I’m appalled that you’d waste my time over a meeting that could’ve been done on the phone. You’re just repeating yourself. You told my previous assistant the same thing the last time you called ten times in a day. ”

He gives Damon a crooked smile, eyeing me. “What’s the matter? She wasn’t as pretty and good in bed as this one?”

I swallow, not having expected that kind of meeting.

God, was it that obvious to others that we both wanted to get into each other’s pants? Or was he being a stereotypical asshole?

For the first time I hear Damon’s laugh.

It’s vicious and dark.

He leans over the table, seeming ready to grab Burkett and throw him out the glass window.

“One word—one word about any of my employees—and I will gut your fucking plans for the next decade to come.”

Burkett snickers, eyeing Smith, who warns her boss with a stare. Clearly, he doesn’t listen. Reminds me of someone . Perhaps he’s looking for a fight today.

“You don’t have that much power.”

Damon tsks. “Correction. I don’t use that power. But you know I have it tucked away.”

Burkett rolls his eyes and looks to me. I stopped writing notes since clearly none of this is pertinent for the report.

“I apologize, Ms. Ackerman.” He faces Damon again. “This project has been a dream of mine since I can remember. I’m just trying to make that happen.”

Damon nods. “And I can’t stop you.”

“No.” Burkett moves his mouth in an unattractive manner. “But you sure can make life a fuck load more difficult.”

Damon smiles, a triumphant smile. God, is that the only time he laughs and smiles? When he’s sticking it to people?

Clearly, Damon’s point was made. He can’t stop this project, but he can mess with it. That’s where his power lies.

Burkett starts to fidget his hands together as he keeps speaking. “I also have the Indians arguing that they have hunting rights over some acres of land near my targeted area.”

“Aboriginals or Indigenous, Burkett. You should learn the proper terms before you go building on Canadian soil. And depending on the proximity, you might be dragged in court for the next couple of years...”

Burkett pulls on his white hair as Cora Smith takes the lead. “If you set up realistic expectations for us to follow through on, we will. We’re even prepared to enter into a contract with your firm to do so.”

The look of surprise on Damon’s face comes and goes but I don’t miss it. They discuss more details, more technical things, so I type away until finally, less than an hour later, we’re on our way out.

The sun feels good on my face, though it’s windy out today and I’m glad I have my leather jacket on.

After cabbing back to the hotel, Damon tells me to dress comfortably. If he sees my confusion, he doesn’t comment on it. We still have quite some time until our flight this evening and I was hoping to relax, maybe order room service, and chill.

Instead, I dress in my jeans and T-shirt again—that’s the most comfortable thing I brought—and black ankle boots. I wear my leather coat and wait for him outside my hotel room. I already cleaned up all my stuff in the bathroom and put away my clothes in my carry-on.

“Where are we going?” I ask him when he steps out of his room.

I stare at him sporting washed up dark jeans, a white shirt, and black boots of his own. I can’t even comprehend the two different sides of him. The one with the immaculate suit who’s cold and conniving, and the man with a leather jacket that makes me silently beg him to rough me up and kiss me.

“You’ll see.”

I’m curious. So curious, I want to ask again. But I know it won’t change the outcome of his answer. Damon has a personality that’s hard to budge. When he makes up his mind, he’s done.

With traffic, it takes close to an hour before we finally arrive. And when we do, my face drops.

Completely.

He brought me to heaven but also my own personal hell.

Because that’s where everything stopped, everything changed, where all the fun and adventures and laughter and happiness left our bodies, and we became living mummies.

“Damon, what’re we doing here?” My palms are a sweaty mess, and my thoughts are in shambles.

We’re at a dirt track. He brought me here to ride a dirt bike in the sand. He brought me here to let loose and have fun.

And I want to.

I can see some bikes in the horizon, and my body shivers thinking about being next.

“Hey.” Damon pulls on my arm as I’m about to walk to the little boutique, to sign up, pay, and get the equipment needed. “You look like you’re about to faint—are you okay?”

He’s holding me with both hands. Both hands are on my neck, beneath my jawline, and I can’t think properly.

First, not with him paying this much attention to me. Second, I can’t have him this close. Not to me. I think of Harvey, and I’m bleeding. Truly bleeding inside.

I shouldn’t be here. I promised. I shouldn’t.

Third, he brought me here.

My hell. Not everyone has the same definition of hell. Mine is different. My hell exists every day. It’s things I desperately want but can never have.

Harvey’s smile. His attention, his love, his body.

And this. Bikes.

The wind. The sun. The freedom. The speed. The power.

The thought of being so close to death.

There’s nothing more thrilling than being so close to death .

It’s exhilarating.

“Gemma?” I gulp when he traces his fingers over my throat. I can’t tell him to stop because I don’t want him to.

This morning he was ignoring me.

And now he brought me to hell. But I like it here. It’s hell because I’ll get a dose of fun, of high, of happiness. And I won’t ever have the chance to do it again.

Because I promised. And even I can’t break a promise more than once.

I nod at Damon, who’s looking extremely worried.

“I’m fine . . . really. Surprised.”

God, I can barely speak.

My legs feel like jelly. My heart is pounding so loud in my chest, I sense my ears drumming.

“Breathe,” he whispers in my ear.

Stop, Damon. You’re making me want more. And I can’t.

Not with Harvey, I can’t.

There’s something in his eyes—I don’t know what it is. As if... he’s questioning bringing me here. He probably wants to know why I’m literally shaking all because we’re at a track.

I’m not even present when Damon talks to the instructor, who makes us sign a bunch of documents, and Damon pays.

“She’s all yours,” the instructor says to me as he parks the bike once we’re outside again, handing me gloves and a helmet before handing Damon his own equipment.

This is it.

How long has it been?

Two and a half years. Soon to be three years in July.

I put on my gloves and the helmet, leaving the visor open. My fingers skim the handle, moving their way to the narrow back leather seat.

I miss this. I miss riding bikes more than I care to admit.

There, I said it.

It takes me longer than usual to sit on it and start things up. On this day, I know better. I know to appreciate every moment because I never know when I’ll be riding again.

My foot removes the stand from the ground before I hover over the seat. I use the kick starter on the right side to start the bike. I take in the sound, the cranking of the engine. It feeds me to the bone.

I didn’t forget.

I sometimes worried I’d forget what to do.

But it’s impossible.

I try to compose the slight tremble that waves through my fingers, the rush of adrenaline washing through me, like a junkie’s first hit of the decade.

“Gemma, are you okay?” Damon asks, his voice marred with worry. He’s on his own bike, and he looks mighty, mighty fine.

I nod, and when I’m ready, I pull in the clutch all the way and push down on the shifter to place it into first gear. I give the bike gas while slowly letting go of the clutch.

And I’m off—before Damon decides to stop me. I go easy at first to diminish the guilt that I feel toward Harvey.

I promised him.

And I blew it—my promise—into dust sand like that surrounding me, as I give the bike more gas to pick up speed.

That sound.

Nothing revs up my body quite like it. My heart races, beating like an instrument. Not even the beaming sun can cease the goosebumps awakening over my body.

The roar of the throttle is so vivid against my body that my promise flies right past me, along with the wind. Everything that’s happened these past few years temporarily leaves my mind.

The pain. The loneliness. The rejection.

Instead, I smile, my mind working overtime to keep up with the racing chaos that’s tumbling through me.

This.is.life .

And I can’t remember the last time I was this happy since the accident.

I’m as selfish as I’ve allowed myself to be in years. It’s all about me. And my needs. And my wants.

It’s selfish. Getting a job, traveling, walking. Selfish, selfish. When my boyfriend can barely walk. But I can and therein lies the problem.

I shake my head, hoping to clear my thoughts and be consumed by the rush.

Maybe I’m not in hell after all. Maybe I’m where I’m supposed to be. With whom I’m supposed to be. I look out for Damon, but he’s long gone. And suddenly I want to find him, race with him.

Thank him for bringing me here today.

I’m not even going as fast I should be, my fingers are still trembling, and I need to gather my wits. Instead, I enjoy the moment, the seconds that tick by.

I don’t want to go back. I’m here and here is all that matters.

The sun warms my face, my body. The wind pulls at my hair. And I can’t stop myself any longer: I push down the visor and rev the bike like my dad first taught me and quickly, too quickly, I barrel through the wind to catch up to Damon.

Damon’s signaling with his hands for me to slow down, but I ignore him. He doesn’t get it. What this bike represents for me. It’s more than just enjoying the ride.

After I lost my mom at eleven, I was the girl who loved to hang with the boys at school and do tricks and dares no other girls wanted to do.

Anything with height and speed. I was unstoppable. Broke my arm once for it.

As soon as I turned sixteen, my dad taught me how to ride a sports bike. We started off slow with a 250cc until I got my own 636cc in college. Gia thought I was nuts. She was the intellectual one, always reading non-fiction books to understand more about psychology. That was her passion.

I loved science too and reading fiction, but I also loved being outside. My dad and I spent so much of our time together doing boy stuff . Simply thinking about those memories makes me feel homesick.

Nothing, nothing made me feel closer to my mom after her death than risking fate and reaching so close to it. Even if she’s probably chastising me for my actions, at least I like to believe she cares, that she’s somewhere, watching over me.

It is, and has always been, the soothing balm that helped me cope with losing her. We all have our poison—this is mine.

Damon’s caught up and is now next to me. I see his helmet shake from side to side, and I don’t care.

Keep up or keep out.

I get lost in it. So lost. I’m so happy I’m afraid it’ll hurt my cheeks the next day. It’s magic and I don’t want it to end.

I’m reborn—like a phoenix resurrecting from its ashes.