Claim Me(138)

“I’ll arrange it.”

He turns to me. “You’re sure?”

“There are a lot of things on your resume,” I say. “But I’m pretty sure babysitter isn’t one of them. Yes. I’m sure.”

“Fine, but I want you to stay here while I’m gone.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “I’ll be fine at home.”

“They’ll hound you,” he says. “And they’ll hound Jamie,” he adds, because he knows me well enough to know that matters. “Mostly, it will make me feel better. Please, Nikki. Right now I’m asking. Don’t make me demand.”

It’s his way of saying that he’s the one making the rules in this game I agreed to continue. I nod in acquiescence. The truth is that I’d rather stay here, too. I want to be strong enough to say that I really don’t care if they accost me on the stairs up to the condo. I want to—but I’m not.

“Fine. I’ll stay.”

“Thank you. Besides, I want to install better security at your place. Charles, on your way out, tell Sylvia to make arrangements for that and to let Ms. Archer know when the installation will happen. What?” he demands, noticing my smile.

“Nothing.” Fortunately, I don’t think Jamie is going to mind having a security team swoop down on her. And Damien is just being Damien.

As usual, he reads my mind. “Correction,” he says to Charles. “Tell Sylvia to ask Ms. Archer if she’s amenable to a security system and, if so, when would be a convenient time for the install. Better?”

I nod. “And thanks.”

We walk Charles out, and as soon as the door closes behind him, I move closer to Damien and press my palms against his bare chest. “London, huh? I miss you already.”

“Just so we’re clear, I don’t want you to stay in my apartment because I’m worried about you.”

“No?”

“I want you here because I like the idea of you in my bed.”

“That works out well, then. Because I like being in your bed, too. Mostly, though, I like being in your arms.”





20


By mid-afternoon on Friday, I’m craving traffic jams and smog. I want to go out in the world, and damn the reporters and paparazzi and plain old gawkers.

At the same time, I’m enjoying this bubble of domesticity I’m sharing with Damien. He’s kicked back on the sofa, his bare feet on the coffee table, his iPad in one hand and a sparkling water near the other. He’s wearing a Bluetooth headphone in his far ear, so from my perspective it looks as if he’s mumbling to himself. I’ve long ago tuned him out. As fascinated as I am by Damien in general, I do not need to know the ins and outs of the labor problems that one of his subsidiaries is having in Taiwan.

As for me, I’ve just finished reading a downloaded copy of The Martian Chronicles, and though I’d started the story with a picture of a young Damien in my mind, by the end, I’d been sucked in by the plot and the characters.

Now, though, I’m feeling at loose ends. I don’t have my laptop, so there’s not much actual work I can do. I’m not in the mood to start another book, and the television doesn’t interest me in the slightest. I consider putting on a fashion show for Damien featuring the clothes he’s stocked in the closet, but I can’t quite bring myself to do it. I’ve been dominating his time lately, albeit unintentionally, and though he makes light of his need to oversee his empire, I know that the world of Damien Stark will unravel if he is not actively at the helm.