Claim Me(19)

“Damien!” I expect to hear a commotion from the booth beside us, or at least the clatter of Monica’s heels as she comes to check on us. There is nothing, though. Apparently we’re better insulated than I would have guessed.

“Do you know how much I’m worth?” Damien asks, and I blink at the seemingly random question.

“I—no. Not exactly.”

“It’s more than the GNP of many countries, and it’s damn sure enough to keep me as comfortable as I want to be for the rest of my life and then some.” He turns to face me. “But it’s not enough to keep those bastards away from you.”

My heart melts. “Damien. It’s okay. I’m fine.”

“You’re on the goddamn Internet in a bathing suit because of me.”

“I’m on the Internet in a bathing suit because my mother forced me into pageants from the time I was four. And because I didn’t have the balls to say no to her when I got older. I’m on the Internet because of those jerks out there. I’m not on the Internet because of you.”

“I don’t like that something that comes from me hurts you. I don’t like it,” he repeats. “But I don’t know that I have the strength to change it.”

“The strength?” I repeat, but he doesn’t answer.

I see the shadows cross his face before he turns back to the window. Damien Stark, the strongest man I know, is twisted into knots, and suddenly I am scared. “Damien?”

His palm against the window clenches, and I can see his muscles tighten. “I owned a small, gourmet wine and cheese company once,” he says. “Or rather Stark International did.”

My mind spins at the shift in conversation. I don’t know why he’s telling me this, but I trust he has a point. I ease behind him and press against his back. I put my arms around his waist and brush my lips against the nape of his neck.

“Tell me about it,” I say.

“It was an old company, family run, good reputation. I loved their products and thought it could be a profitable partnership. And it was—for about a year.”

“What happened?”

“The press learned that Stark International was behind this mom-and-pop business and started lambasting them. Didn’t matter that we weren’t mass-producing the food. We hadn’t changed the system. We had simply provided enough capital to let the company grow within its own parameters. But they were called out as Big Business disguised as the Little Guy, a trick designed to fool consumers. All the negative attention stopped growth cold. Suddenly a company that was solidly in the black was in the red.”

“What did you do?” I hold my breath, because I am certain I know where he’s going, and I don’t like it.

“I pulled out. Very publicly and very loudly. Even so, it took a while for the business to get back on its feet. Being associated with Stark International almost destroyed the company whose cheese and wine I loved so much.”

“I’m neither cheese nor wine,” I say softly. “And I’m not spiraling down. I could never spiral down with you beside me. You hold me up, Damien. We both know it.”

He is silent for so long that I think my words haven’t touched him. And then, with an abruptness that takes my breath away, he spins us around, so that my back is against the cool glass. He steps away long enough to turn to face me, and then suddenly his mouth is on mine, and he is kissing me. His mouth is hard and demanding against mine, and I am held fast between the glass and Damien, an infinity of night stretched out before me, and the power of his kiss the only thing that is keeping me anchored.