Morgan wasn’t fooled. ‘Don’t bother pretending you’re okay with this, Damian,’ she said bluntly. ‘I know you’re not. And, for the record, I’m not either. But you boys wanted to start up this non-profit and so it’s going to require some work. Image is everything in the charity business, understand?’
I sighed. ‘What do you want, then?’
‘You need to bring a date.’
‘A date?’ I repeated blankly.
‘Yes. And not one of your usual models.’
‘Hey, I date scientists too; don’t be sexist.’
‘You know what I mean.’ Morgan’s voice was cool. ‘This isn’t one of your parties and it can’t be some random pick-up or one-night stand.’
Shit. That was my sister. She always asked the impossible.
‘That makes for a really short list,’ I said.
‘That’s not my problem. Find someone. I’m already going with Ulysses and Everett’s bringing Freya. You need to—’
‘Wait, what?’ I interrupted, frowning. ‘You’re going as Ulysses’s date?’
‘Bring someone who’s going to impress potential sponsors,’ Morgan said, completely ignoring me. ‘Because I’m sorry to have to say it but you’re not enough to impress them on your own, Damian.’
‘But I—’
‘See you in two days.’
I didn’t have time to protest. Morgan disconnected the call.
Thea
LIGHT FELL ACROSS my face and I groaned, turning over and burrowing my face into the soft pillow. My body felt heavy, my muscles aching along with other, more sensitive parts of me. It was a delightfully sensual feeling.
Finally I stretched and cracked open an eye, pleased to find that I hadn’t materialised in my crappy Mongkok apartment and that apparently I was still in heaven.
The sun was coming through the huge windows of Damian’s large, roomy bedroom, lighting up the dark walls and the polished dark wood covering the floor. A thick black rug covered the middle of the room, the huge white bed I was lying in a pale contrast. There was a soft-looking modular sofa near the bed, covered in dark, silvery velvet. The whole effect was one of richness and decadence, and I loved it.
I rolled over, luxuriating in Damian’s expensive sheets and soft mattress.
You need to go tonight. Two days, remember?
A tight feeling sat behind my breastbone, as if a part of me felt sad at the thought. Which was stupid. This was a fling, a fantasy. A wonderful holiday in a luxurious setting with a sexy man.
I was Cinderella and when the clock struck midnight I’d be going back to my place beside the fire. Or, rather, back to my life and the business Mr Chen had left for me. And that wasn’t bad. It was a living and it was better than being on the streets, right?
Ignoring the sudden doubt, I shoved back the sheets and slipped out of bed, pausing to grab Damian’s grey T-shirt from where it lay on the floor and pull it on over my head.
Then I went in search of him, heading down the hallway to the living area, following the sound of his rich, deep voice.
He was standing near the windows, on the phone yet again. Dressed only in a pair of worn jeans, the morning light fell over the contours of his broad shoulders and muscled chest, making the coloured ink of his tattoos stand out. As I watched, he ran a hand through his black hair, lifting it into soft inky spikes. The sun glinted off the ring in his eyebrow and turned his eyes molten, gleaming silver from underneath his black lashes, and my heart caught a little.
He was a beautiful man and yet there was something else going on underneath all that beauty. Something I’d caught a glimpse of last night as he’d told me about his memory; about his mother and sister too. Something painful. It shouldn’t matter to me and I shouldn’t want to know it—I’d been with him only two days after all—but his pain scraped at the edges of my own heart and I couldn’t ignore it. I’d always been too soft, as Mr Chen had liked to say.
Damian looked at me and I moved instinctively, going to him and wrapping my arms around his lean waist, pressing myself against his hard, hot body, hungry to be close to him even though I’d been sleeping next to him all night.
He finished up his phone call and put his arms around me, holding me without speaking, as if he enjoyed the contact as much as I did. Then he lifted me up, carrying me over to the breakfast bar and setting me down on top of it. Putting his palms down on either side of my thighs, he leaned in, giving me one of his focused looks. ‘I have a question for you, Sugar.’
‘Oh?’ I touched his mouth, loving the softness of it under my finger, given it was pretty much the only thing about him that was soft, following the line of his bottom lip as it curved into a smile.
‘Naughty girl. This is serious.’
‘Uh-huh.’ I leaned forward and kissed him, indulging myself shamelessly. ‘So is kissing you.’
His smile this time was natural and full of heat. ‘Seducing me again?’
‘Just practising my skills.’ I grinned then kissed him once more, nipping at his bottom lip.
He laughed and tangled a hand in my hair, pulling me back a little. ‘Hold that thought. At least until after you’ve answered my question.’
I narrowly missed a pout. ‘More questions?’
‘Remember the launch of the non-profit I was talking about last night? And how I have to go to London for it? Well, Morgan is managing the PR, and she called me yesterday to tell me that I need to bring a date.’
I blinked. ‘A date?’
‘Yeah, that was my response.’ He twined my hair around his fingers. ‘It has to be someone who is going to impress potential sponsors so apparently I’m not allowed to bring my “usual random pick-ups or one-night stands”.’ There was a wry note in his voice that made me want to smile. ‘It seems I’m not impressive enough on my own, which I get. My reputation is not...stellar, let’s just say. Or, at least, not from a charity perspective. Too many parties and shit.’
‘Do you care about your reputation?’
‘Not really. But Morgan does. And so does Ulysses. Which means I have to too.’ His eyes glinted. ‘Fancy a trip to London, Sugar?’
A pulse of shock went through me. ‘You mean you want...me to be your date?’
That sexy smile played around his mouth. ‘Yeah, I do.’
‘But...’ I stopped, a thousand insecurities that I’d been trying not to think of suddenly bubbling to the surface.
He raised a brow. ‘But what?’
‘But I’m not...’ I stopped again, feeling my cheeks heat. You’re not pretty enough, you mean? ‘I mean, I’m kind of your usual random pick-up, aren’t I? Or a one-night stand?’
‘Technically you’re a two-night stand,’ he corrected. ‘But, seriously, you’re the perfect woman to have on my arm for this. Not only are you beautiful, but you’re smart. And observant.’ He grinned. ‘You can take a look at our potential sponsors and tell me which ones to trust.’
Being at an important function. On his arm. There would be lots of media covering it, no doubt, and