nothing could stay sweet forever. The struggles came. They made you stronger. Even if they never were a whole lot of fun. You cherished the happy times, held them close to your heart to warm you and keep you focused on finding the joy again when things got tough.
That night he took her to a private party at a West Village hotel. They danced and they sat together on a white sofa and drank expensive champagne. He introduced her to the host and to a few other people he did business with in New York. It was all very glamorous and upscale and trendy. A great party, really.
But she had only a few days with Dami. She would have preferred to have been somewhere they could talk without shouting at each other. And then she spotted the photographer taking pictures of them.
Dami saw him, too. He leaned close. “Let’s go.”
“Great idea.”
Quentin appeared with her coat and bag. They were working their way through the crush toward the elevators when she heard a woman’s voice behind them. “Damien!”
The woman, tall and gorgeous with platinum hair, emerged from the crowd. She threw her arms around Dami and planted a big one right on his lips.
Dami laughed, a slightly weary sound. “Hello, Susie.”
Susie wrapped an arm around his neck. “How long are you in town?”
“A few days. And we were just—”
She shook a French-nailed finger at him. “You know it’s been much too long. Let’s go somewhere private and talk—or not talk. I can think of any number of interesting ways to pass the time.”
“As I was saying, we were just leaving.” Dami was no longer smiling. “Let me go.”
Susie gripped him tighter. She went further, reaching out her other arm and hooking it around Lucy so she had hold of both of them. “Who’s this?”
He repeated flatly, “Let go.”
Susie batted her eyelashes Lucy’s way. She smelled of expensive perfume and too many drinks. “Aren’t you a sweet little thing?”
Lucy gazed back at her patiently. She’d met a few women like Susie. Noah used to date women like her in the years before he found Alice. Beautiful, sexy women who liked to party. A lot.
“Oh, you are just too cute!” Susie hauled Lucy closer and cooed in her ear, “We could have a lot of fun, all three of us.”
At which point Dami had had enough.
He reached around Susie and snared Lucy’s hand as Quentin moved in behind the blonde, took her shoulders and lifted her neatly out of the way. Dami herded Lucy toward the elevators and Quentin took up the rear, leaving Susie behind.
* * *
Dami didn’t say a word during the ride back to the apartment building. Lucy kept quiet, too. He seemed pretty upset about the encounter with Susie and she wanted to give him a little time to cool down before trying to talk to him about it.
The driver let them off in front of the building. Dami took her arm then. Her heart lifted a little just to feel his touch. Quentin led the way up the steps and opened the door.
On the elevator, Dami pushed the button for the third floor. Apparently, they were staying at her place tonight. That surprised her a little. His was larger and not chockablock with sewing equipment. But then again, it didn’t matter to her where they stayed.
As long as they stayed together.
The elevator stopped. The doors slid wide.
“Hold it,” Dami said curtly to Quentin. His brusque tone surprised her. He was never curt, especially not with servants and the people who watched over him. Lucy sent him a questioning glance, but he stared straight ahead as he led her out of the elevator and over to her door.
He turned her to face him then, there in front of her door. His eyes were distant, not really connecting with hers. He brushed a cool hand along the side of her cheek.
Behind him the elevator doors stood open. Quentin waited within, shoulders back, legs wide, expression carefully blank.
“Dami, what—?”
He didn’t let her finish. “Good night, Luce.”
And then he turned and walked away from her, leaving her standing there staring after him in disbelief.
Damien stepped onto the elevator and turned to find Lucy right behind him.
“Oh, no you don’t.” She got on beside him.
He gave her his weariest glance. “It’s late.”
“Oh, stop. It’s barely midnight.” She reached over and pushed the button for his floor. The doors closed.
He longed to punch the button to open them again. But then what? Scoop her up and carry her bodily back to her door?
And what if she still refused to stay put?
And all right, yes. He was being a jerk. He knew it. He just didn’t want to talk about Susie. Leaving Lucy at her door had seemed a way to avoid an uncomfortable conversation.
So much for that.
He maintained absolute silence for the short ride up. Lucy did, too, just as she had during the drive from the party. He found her silence both annoying and unnerving. After all, Lucy was never quiet. He’d always thought her incapable of keeping her mouth shut for long.
Apparently, he’d got that wrong.
When the elevator stopped, Quentin exited first. He and Lucy followed, side by side but not touching. Quentin dealt with the alarm, opened the door and went in ahead.
“Thank you, Quentin. That’s all for the night.”
The bodyguard mounted the stairs for his room above. Damien shut and locked the door.
Lucy set her bag on the entry table and unbuttoned her coat. He took it and hung it, along with his, in the closet by the door. Her dress that night was snug and black, with a lace top that dipped low in back to a V shape. She looked unbearably sweet in it, good enough to eat.
He wanted to kiss her, to run his finger down her back, tracing that V. He wanted to take her straight to bed. However, her level gaze and set expression told him clearly that lovemaking wasn’t happening anytime soon.
Then again, maybe he’d get lucky and she’d let him change her mind.
He did what he wanted to do, stepping in close, touching his finger to the nape of her neck, trailing it out along her shoulder to the outer edge of the V. Her skin seemed to beckon him. He needed his mouth on her.
So he took what he needed, kissing the tempting spot where the lace started at the curve of her shoulder while continuing the slow caress with the tip of his finger down to the middle of her smooth back.
She sighed. For a moment, he thought she would melt into his arms.
But then she drew herself up and turned to face him. Her eyes challenged him. “Make me some cocoa, please, Dami.”
“Cocoa.” He arched a brow, made his expression one of boredom and complete disinterest.
She wasn’t buying. “That’s what I said. Cocoa, please.”
With a curt nod and no expression, he signaled her ahead of him into the kitchen area. She took one of the tall chairs at the peninsula and leaned her chin on her fist as he went through the process of heating the milk and chopping the chocolate.
He thought how he should send her back to her apartment now. He should end this foolishness tonight before it went any further. She was too good, too sweet, too innocent for him. He should tell her he’d