Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision. He might still be interested in getting her into bed, but he wouldn’t love her.
Not like he loved the other woman in his life. If he loved this woman, why had he married Johanna instead of her?
Had he not wanted to start a “real” marriage based on money and contractual obligations? Was Johanna just in the picture so he could continue courting the woman he loved?
And why did it hurt so much to find out that she might mean nothing to him at all?
She entered their suite in silence, Damon following close behind. He sighed, leaning against the door with closed eyes.
“Are you okay?” she asked, taking a hesitant step toward him.
His eyes snapped open, his gaze hard and unrelenting.
“No. I’m bloody furious. How dare he?”
Damon ripped off his cravat, hurling it across the room with a curse. She retreated. “I’m sorry.”
“You should be. He’s your bloody ex, not mine,” he snapped. He blanched and pressed his lips tightly together.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’m just upset. Forgive me.”
She nodded. Tears spilled down her cheeks. “It’s okay.”
He shook his head, closing his eyes once more. “No. It’s not. Go to bed. I’m not fit company right now.”
“Not fit company, or not fit company for me? Who—”
“I said go to bed.” His voice was clipped and his lips curled into a snarl.
She nodded, biting her trembling lip. “Fine. I don’t enjoy ass**les for company, anyway.”
She walked to her bedroom and quietly shut the door behind her. What had started out as a dream come true ended up a nightmare.
Johanna crawled into bed and cried herself to sleep.
Chapter Eight
Johanna rolled over in bed, blinking at the sun streaming through the window. She yawned and sat up, rubbing her temples in exhaustion. Sleep had been a long time coming last night. Hell, it had been elusive all week long. The frigid silence she’d been treated to the past few days did nothing to help her rest, and she suspected today would be no different.
Though it was Saturday, she didn’t wake up excited.
Damon barely spoke to her anymore, so she was pretty sure he wouldn’t have a big date planned for the day. With a sigh, she rolled out of bed and trudged down the stairs, entering the dining room with dread. He sat at the table, newspaper in hand.
He glanced up, then turned his attention back to the paper. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” she mumbled. Crossing the room, she filled a mug with steaming coffee before claiming her seat at his side.
Without another word, she pulled her plate close and began eating.
“Tonight I have a charity event to attend. Do you remember me telling you of it the other week?” Damon asked.
She tried to suppress the foolish burst of hope. “Oh.
Yeah.”
“We shall need to leave by six. You’re wearing the dress we spoke of earlier this week, correct?”
“Yes, I am. It’s in my room.”
He gave her an odd look and rose. “I will see you then. I have some…personal business to attend to.”
“Today? But it’s not Sunday,” she blurted out. It’s my day.
He raised a brow. “I’m well aware of the day. I’ll see you tonight.”
She nodded, swallowing heavily. So, now he went to see her on Saturday, too? Then she’d lost the battle for his love before she ever had a chance to win. It was what she wanted, right? To keep her distance and stay safe?
Why, then, did it hurt so much to know she couldn’t have him?
The rest of the day passed in a blur of nervous anxiety.
Late in the evening, she watched from the bedroom window as he climbed out of the car. Her fingers tightened on the curtain. His stride seemed lighter than before, as if he’d found his pleasure and felt all the better for it.
She shoved away from the window. She couldn’t stop picturing the faceless woman hanging all over Damon. He was her husband. He should be happy because of her.
Why couldn’t he love her the way she loved him?
Oh. Shit.
Love? Oh, no. Oh, hell no. She couldn’t love him…could she? Could she really be so utterly idiotic to fall for a man who didn’t love her? To fall for him when he so obviously loved another?
Yes, yes she could.
Son of a bitch.
…
Damon ascended the stairs two at a time. Lilly was safe from Tim; Damon had seen to that. Sure, she’d fought over the relocation, but in the end he’d won. And being able to donate her old house to one of his employees had just been icing on the cake.
It amazed him how much more aware he was of the struggle most people in the world faced. Johanna had opened his eyes, shown him how greedily he had treated life before she came along—without even knowing it. Sure, he went to charity functions occasionally. Donated to good causes.
But now…he actually cared.
He readied himself for the charity event quickly, taking a fast shower before dressing. He opened a drawer to retrieve the box he’d hidden there earlier. Crossing the hallway, he knocked on Johanna’s door.
“Come in,” she called.
He took a steadying breath and opened the door. “Hey, gorgeous.” His gaze fell on the neckline of her low-cut dress.
Bloody hell, she would be the death of him. He forced a smile, holding the box behind his back. “You, as usual, look amazing.”
“He says with closed eyes.”
“They’re open.” He rocked back on his heels. “I have something for you.”
“Oh?” She quirked a brow.
“Yes. Let’s try…this?” He held the box out to her, swallowing past his parched throat. “It should match the dress you chose perfectly.”
“I’m sure it will,” she said dryly, and his stomach sank.
“Are you trying to buy my forgiveness for ignoring me all week?”
Damon dragged a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t ignoring you. I’ve just been…busy with work. I’m sorry if you thought I was angry. I didn’t mean to give you that impression.”
“The last time we really talked, you ordered me to go to my room. What was I supposed to think?”
He sighed. “I know. I’m an ass. Forgive me? Please?”
She gave a slight nod, her face softening a bit, and relief washed over him.
“Thank you. Now, open it.”
“Giving me orders again.” She hesitantly reached out and took the box. Her hands clutched so tight he could see the whites of her knuckles.