Complete Me(77)

He ends the call and looks at me, his mouth curving into an automatic smile. If I didn’t know him so well, I’d believe that everything was business as usual. But I do know him well, and I can see the hint of worry in his eyes.

“Something wrong?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Just the ins and outs of running the universe. I’ve been somewhat absent for the last few weeks. A few things have slipped through the cracks.”

“I don’t see how,” I quip. “You had Stark Central set up in the hotel.”

“It’s nothing,” he repeats, but I know better.

“You’re worried,” I say.

I can almost see the denial rise on his lips, and I wonder if I need to remind him of the talk we had on the jet. But then he seems to think better of it. “I am.”




“Then I know it’s not business. You don’t worry about business,” I add in response to his querying look. “You just take charge.”

“I didn’t realize I was so transparent.”

“Only to me,” I say. “So what is it, Damien? Is it Sofia? Is it that motion to release the photos? Has something happened?”

He leans back against the bench and tilts his face up to the sky. After a moment, he plucks his sunglasses from where they are hooked on the collar of his T-shirt and puts them on. “There are just a few things I need to follow up on,” he says, turning his head so that he is facing me. “Business about which I’m not worried, but which does require my attention.”

“I see,” I say, though what I should do is call him out for bullshit.

“And, yes,” he adds gently. “I’m still worried about Sofia.”

This time, I know that it is the truth. I also know that it’s an apology.

“You’ll find her. Will you tell me as soon as you learn something new?”

His answer comes immediately. “Of course.”

My chest feels tight and I am suddenly aware that I’ve been holding my breath. It’s only then I realize how much had been riding on that one simple question.

Can’t you tell me what’s going on? I’d begged him in Germany. Can’t you talk to me? No, he’d answered.

Today, he’d said yes.

Relieved, I lean against him, sighing gently as his arm goes around me and basking in the relief and the knowledge that at least for now, I feel safe and connected.

Soon, Jamie joins us, a shopping bag dangling from her arm. “Y’all worn out already?”

“I’m afraid I need to head back to the house,” Damien says. “But you two can continue shopping.”

“Not me. Not unless you want to.” Jamie looks at me, but I shake my head. I’m pretty much over the shopping, too. “I want the hot tub,” she says.

“I think we can go one better,” Damien says, then hits a button on his phone. “Sylvia, can you contact Adriana? See if she can get someone to the Arrowhead house this afternoon for Ms. Fairchild and Ms. Archer. Yes, that’s right. An hour. Call or text the details once you have them. Fine. I’ll be in on Friday.”

Jamie aims a very clear what the f*ck look at me, which I in turn voice to Damien. “What’s going on?”

“I thought you two might like massages on the patio,” he says, and Jamie immediately high-fives me.

“You know you’re amazing,” she tells him.

He meets my eyes. “So I’ve been told.”

When we get back to the house, Damien tells us that we’ll find bathing suits in the trunk in Jamie’s guest room and then shows us how to operate the controls on the hot tub. “Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge,” he adds, “including the champagne.”