Chapter Twenty-Two

Past

T he soft knock on my apartment door startles me awake from an afternoon nap. As I shuffle toward the door, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I notice the city outside bathes in golden sunlight, and realize I’ve been out cold.

I open the door, surprised and a bit disoriented to find Dad standing there, a warm smile on his face. Before any words are exchanged, he opens his arms for a hug. I step in eagerly, feeling the strength and comfort of his hug enveloping me.

“Dad,” I manage to say, my voice catching in my throat. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this,” I admit, my voice muffled by his shoulder.

In response, he tightens his grip. “I know, sweetheart. I’ve missed you too.”

His cologne, a mix of cedar and musk, surrounds me. I press into the hug, relishing the beat of his heart against my ear.

After a moment, he releases me, a soft smile still lingering on his face. “Mind if I come in, sweet pea?”

“Of course, Dad,” I reply, stepping aside to let him enter. Derek, who was standing behind him nods at me before pulling the door shut.

“Is everything okay, River?” Dad turns to me then, standing in the center of the living room, looking ten years older than his actual age.

I slowly walk to him and fold my arms around him again. “Yes.”

He pauses for a beat then sighs and hugs me back. “You had me so worried yesterday.” The concern in his voice is palpable, and the sincerity of his worry tugs at my heart.

“I know,” I reply. “I didn’t mean to, really. Things just got a bit… overwhelming.”

He holds me at arm’s length as he studies my face. “You can always talk to me, sweetheart. Whatever it is, we can figure it out together.”

The meaning behind his words is loud and clear. He knows I lied about being with friends yesterday. He knows I am hiding something and instead of calling me out on that, he is letting me decide whether I want to share it with him or not.

A small smile plays on my lips, appreciating the warmth of his support. “I know, Dad. And I will. Promise.” When the time is right. As if he heard the silent words, he settles on the couch. I busy myself by going to the kitchen. I put the kettle on and retrieve the chamomile tea box, aware of his worried glance following me.

Everything is okay, Dad , I want to say. Everything is more than okay. I finally got the man of my dreams. The thought itself makes me weak in the knees.

After kissing me passionately amidst the busy street, Damian took me back to his hotel. Actually, he carried me there because my legs decided to give up on me after that soul stirring kiss.

Throughout the way, I felt people’s gaze on me but I was so exhausted and weak that I simply ignored them all by burying my face in his throat. Nothing made sense between us at that moment but in his arms, things felt right.

I kept my eyes shut and only opened them when I heard the door clicking softly shut behind us. The subdued lighting cast a warm ambiance across the grand foyer of the presidential suite. But I couldn’t appreciate the view because Damian kept walking through the large sitting area that had a grand piano until he reached the bedroom.

I remember how he gently lowered me onto the plush bed. Then he disappeared briefly and came back sans the tie and coat jacket, carrying a carafe of water, glass and a plate of fruits.

He then poured water into the glass. But instead of giving it to me, he sat beside me and held it to my lips. I reached for it and only then saw how my fingers trembling badly. His jaw had tightened when he saw that too. And on some level, it felt good that I had managed to rock the steel like control of Damian Montgomery.

After helping me drink, he produced a cloth napkin and dabbed my mouth, catching any stray droplets. He left briefly, coming back with a soft blanket in his hands. He laid it over me, carefully tucking it around my body. I was shocked as he dropped to his knees and started taking off my shoes.

The room’s stillness amplified the sound of each buckle being undone and I couldn’t look away. Couldn’t look away from the man who was known for his ruthlessness kneeling at my feet.

As he finished, he looked up, his eyes locking with mine. My heart began to stutter. The air was charged with unspoken emotions. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly brought my foot to his lap, his strong hands beginning a gentle massage.

My heart hitched. His touch was both firm and tender, expertly kneading away the pain that had built up. Each stroke of his fingers seemed to erase every hour I waited for him, leaving only the connection between us. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the sensation.

When the massage was over, I opened my eyes to find him still gazing at me.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“You hurt me.” I whispered.

“Yes,” he sighed, not denying it. “Gianna’s agency and my company are working on a collaboration. And it was a business dinner.”

“Collaboration?”

He nodded. “The appearance for the charity gala was a strategic move for a project that could benefit both our interests.”

“You never told me about this collaboration.” He usually shares his ongoing projects with me. Even when half the stuff is complicated to understand.

“I didn’t because it’s still in its initial stage.”

“But why the cozy dinner? Couldn’t you discuss it somewhere else?”

“It was better than having a meeting in the suite.” There’s that ruthless side. Unapologetic and straightforward.

“Then why did you refuse to acknowledge me when she asked who I was?”

“You are a billionaire heiress, angel. Revealing your identity in front of Gianna would’ve been a bad move. She is a social media influencer and would’ve posted about you. So I did what I could to protect you from unnecessary exposure.”

“Why are you explaining all of this to me now?” When he frowned, I said, “You told me it was none of my business.”

“I lied.” He said, tucking my curl behind my ear.

“You did?”

He nodded. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“How?” I couldn’t keep the smile from blooming over my face.

“I’ll figure it out.”

I was smiling hard but then paused. “I don’t like her.” With you. You smiled at her. I can’t see her with you.

“All right.” He said simply.

“All right?”

“Yes, I’ll talk to my team to replace her.”

I stared at him with a gaping mouth. Is he manipulating me? What if there was no deal to begin with? What if he really was on a date with her? What if—

He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t believe me.” Then he reached for the landline at the nightstand and dials someone. I was stunned the entire time he talked over the phone. After ending it, he said, “My team is staying at this hotel. I ringed them to come over so I can discuss Gianna’s replacement in front of you.”

I was left dumbfounded, eyes wide open. “Why did you do that?”

“Because you said you don’t like her.” He stated as if it was obvious.

“But she is very popular.” I mean, that’s why his team chose her in the first place, right? Because she was good at what she does. And had a huge following.

“You don’t like her.” He repeated. Did he just sabotage his own business collaboration because I said I didn’t like her? The notorious and uncompromising mogul, renowned for his relentless pursuit of perfection and insatiable appetite for victory in the competitive business realm, has recalibrated his entire strategic collaboration for me.

I couldn’t resist the overwhelming urge to express what words couldn’t capture. Without thinking, I lunged forward, wrapping my arms around him in a tight embrace.

Caught off guard, he stumbled backward on a grunt, and we both tumbled to the carpeted floor. “You don’t have to do that. Don’t replace her. It doesn’t matter anymore. I trust you.”

He was choosing me over her. A pang of jealousy still lingered, the hurt not entirely forgotten, but beneath those emotions, a warmth started to bloom. He was willing to jeopardize his business, his connections, all for the sake of us. A small smile graced my lips as it hit me, He was doing this for me. He was choosing me .

I didn’t need him to replace her; I just needed him to choose me, and he did. He was sacrificing something for us, and I didn’t want him to regret it. Our love should be a source of strength, not a burden. The satisfaction of knowing he was willing to take such a risk for our relationship was enough for me.

Lifting myself up a little, a shy smile played on my lips as I leaned up to look at him. “So, um, are we still just friends?” I asked tentatively, my heart pounding in my chest. The question hung in the air, and I searched his eyes for any sign of what he might be thinking.

He met my gaze intensely, his fingers gently tracing a strand of my hair. “No, angel. I’m done playing the good guy.” When I stared at him in puzzlement, he said, “You are mine now.” His tone was possessive, a hint of determination in his eyes as he captured my lips.

“Careful!” Dad’s sharp exclamation slices through the air, yanking me out of my thoughts. The serene atmosphere shatters as the kettle's high-pitched whistle fills the air.

In the next instant, the lid gives way with a jolt. Hot water sprays everywhere before I can even reach the stove. Panic surges as scalding droplets land on my hands. I yelp in pain.

Dad is instantly by my side. “Are you okay? Let me see.” He gently takes my hands into his. “We need to cool these burns down. Sit here, I’ll grab the first aid kit.”

Dad’s fingers move with practiced care, dabbing at the burns on my hands as concern etches lines on his forehead.

“What had you so distracted, sweetheart?” His voice is gentle, yet there’s an unmistakable curiosity in it.

I pause, searching for an excuse, settling on a feeble one. “Oh, just daydreaming about a cute mug I saw online.”

He stops, his eyes drilling into mine. “Daydreaming about a cute mug? Come on, what’s really going on?”

I squirm under his scrutiny.

I attempt to deflect with a nonchalant tone. “It’s just school stuff, you know. Nothing important.”

Dad narrows his eyes, clearly unconvinced. As he continues to tend to my burns, he shakes his head. “Accidents happen, especially when you’re distracted. But you’ve got to be cautious, sweet pea. It’s when you lose focus that things can take a turn for the worse.”

There’s an unspoken depth to his words, a subtle warning. Our eyes lock, and I understand there’s more to his concern than just the burns on my hands.