Claim Me(14)

I can’t even finish the thought. A wave of fear crashes over me, so palpable that I suddenly feel nauseated. And despite the cold that seems to settle over me, I realize that my armpits are damp with perspiration. “They don’t have anything new, do they?” I say, trying hard to make my voice sound normal. I can handle the attention that goes with being Damien’s girlfriend. But nude images of me splashed across papers and the Internet? Oh, dear God …

“It’s not like they’ve stepped it up a notch, right? I mean, it’s not like someone’s been aiming a long lens at the balcony. Have they?”

“Good God, no.” His response is so fast and full of such astonishment that I know my guess completely missed the mark.

I relax, the feeling returning to my body. “Good,” I say. “I thought—” I break off, because I need to take another deep breath. I realize my fingernails are digging into the flesh above my knees, and I release my grip and force myself to relax. I don’t need the pain to get through this; there’s nothing to get through except fear. And besides, I have Damien to hang on to.

“Nikki?”

When I speak, my voice actually sounds normal. “I just thought that since you brought up the paparazzi, that maybe that was what the call was about.”

“Call?”

“Earlier,” I say. “At the house. You looked so upset.”

His eyes widen with what I recognize as genuine surprise. “Did I?”

I lift a shoulder in concession. “I doubt Blaine noticed. But I know you.”

“Yes,” he says. “Apparently you do. But no, that call had nothing to do with those vultures.”

I can almost see a red haze of anger surrounding Damien, but I don’t know if he’s angry at the original caller or with me.

I clear my throat and continue the conversation as if I’d never even mentioned it. “Besides,” I say, “the paparazzi are not one of your acquisitions. More like an infestation. I don’t like them, but I’m learning to live with them.”

He glances at me, and I catch his worried expression. It had been too much to hope that Damien missed my minor freak-out moment a second ago. Damien, I’ve learned, misses nothing.

“Really,” I say, and I mean it, too. So long as no one has taken a nudie picture of me with a long lens, I am just fine. “They’re like fire ants in Texas. They swarm, but the trick is to just not get in the middle of them. And if you do get bit, the sting fades soon enough.” I am so firm that I almost convince myself. “Besides,” I add with a wicked grin, “your Santa Barbara hotel and your penthouse apartment make it all worthwhile.”

He remains silent for so long that I feel sure my ploy to change the subject has failed.

“Don’t forget the house in Hawaii,” he finally says.

I release a happy sigh. “You have a house in Hawaii?”

“And an apartment in Paris.”

“Oh, now you’re just trying to make me drool.”

“Have I mentioned that Stark International has several divisions in the food industry, as well as a significant share of a company that produces high-end Swiss chocolates?”

I cross my arms. If we’re playing Itemize Stark’s Assets, this game will go on forever. “You realize that the fact that you have never once offered me one of those Swiss chocolates is grounds for me to hold a grudge for at least two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” His hand hovers over the button on the steering wheel that operates the speakerphone. “And would you be withholding sex during that time, Ms. Fairchild?”