Sweet Surrender (Sweet #1)(49)

“I hope you don’t mind me making myself more comfortable,” he said.

“Not at all,” she mumbled.

He laid his arm back on the table and met her gaze. “You look beautiful.”

She shifted uncomfortably on the chair. For some reason, she felt that the Damon she’d talked with, had met at The House, was not this same man she now sat across from. And now she felt foolish for calling and asking him to talk to her.

“What would you like to drink?” he asked. “They have an excellent selection of wine, or if you prefer, something stronger.”

She sighed. “I don’t suppose you can get a root beer here.” The last thing she needed was alcohol. Her head was muggy enough without adding liquor to the mix.

He laughed, perfectly straight white teeth flashing. “Root beer it is. I live to serve.”

He gestured for a waiter Faith hadn’t seen standing in the corner. When the young man moved to Damon’s side, Damon requested wine Faith wasn’t familiar with and a bottle of their finest root beer.

She chuckled as the waiter didn’t so much as blink an eye. “I’m hopelessly gauche,” she said by way of apology to Damon.

“You’re delightful,” he said with a smile. “Are you hungry at all?”

She shook her head, knowing her stomach wouldn’t tolerate food after all of today’s upheaval.

Awkward silence stretched between them, and Faith fidgeted with her table napkin to cover her unease. The waiter returned bearing their drinks, and she latched gratefully onto the cool glass.

As the waiter walked away, Damon fixed her with his gaze. “Now, what’s bothering you?” he asked.

She sipped at her root beer then set the glass down with a sigh. “First you have to tell me how a man I thought to be a simple club manager has somehow turned into Mr. GQ.”

He offered a wry smile. “I don’t believe I ever claimed to be a simple club manager.”

“No, I don’t suppose you did,” she admitted. “The Bentley might have been a bit overdone though.”

He chuckled and took another sip of his wine. “Okay, I admit, I was trying to impress you. Did it work?”

She shrugged. “I think I’m more confused than impressed, but then I seem to be wallowing in confusion lately.”

The amused twinkle in his eye faded and was replaced by genuine concern. He reached across the table and laid his hand on top of hers. “If there’s something I can do to help, Faith, I will.”

She slowly pulled her hand away and put it in her lap. “I admit, there were things I wanted to discuss with you, a subject I thought you might have considerable expertise in, but now…”

“Now, what?” he prompted.

She twisted in her seat. “Now, I wonder how much of your role as ‘manager’ of The House is just a game, like everything else. I’m having a hard time figuring out what’s real and what isn’t.”

“Ah.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, frustrated by the seemingly knowing look on his face.

He sat back and took a deep breath. “Faith, I own The House. So my position as manager or proprietor is certainly legitimate. The House is my escape. It’s a place I can go where I’m free to be myself or to enjoy a different lifestyle.”

“So it’s a hobby?” she asked.

He gave her a searching look. “I can sense your anger and frustration. Right now you feel led on, lied to and played with.”

Her brows went up. Yep, he’d nailed that one on the head. Actually, she felt more like she’d become trapped in some never-ending fantasy land where everyone was reading one of those scripts Gray had bitched about.

“I admire you, Faith. I really do.”

“Huh?”

“You know what you want, and you aren’t willing to settle for less, and you’re willing to make mistakes while you search.”

She laughed. She couldn’t help it. Know what she wanted? She wished. It would make things so much easier.

He shook his head when she would have spoken. “You may be confused right now, but you know deep down inside what you want. You just haven’t known how to get it. That’s why you came to The House. Not because you didn’t know what you wanted, but you just didn’t know where to find it.”

“Or how to go about it,” she said glumly.

“Who was the guy?” Damon asked curiously. “The one who showed up at The House looking like he wanted to tear Brent limb from limb.”

Faith looked down and grimaced. “His name is Gray.”

“He seemed to know quite a lot about you,” he said simply.

She sighed. “I think he understands me too well.”

“Meaning?”

“It’s a long story. A long, really messed-up story.”

“I’ve got all night,” he said lazily.

She hesitated for a moment, and then she poured out the entire story, starting with her breakup with John and her subsequent encounter with Gray, first at The House and then at his apartment.

“And the sad thing is, he’s right,” she said when she’d finished.

Damon gave her a thoughtful look as he refilled his wineglass.

“I’d hoped maybe you could offer some insight. Am I playing games? The very thing I despised so much about my experience at The House? Am I wanting something that just doesn’t exist outside role playing and elaborate fantasy reenactments?”