Maya Banks - Sweet Persuasion

“Then I’ll stay.”

The resolve in her words shook her. They sounded so final when she herself was so uncertain. She didn’t want to make a promise she couldn’t keep. They had a contract, for God’s sake. One that could be withdrawn if one or more of the parties desired. This wasn’t supposed to be personal. It was business.

“What are you thinking?” he asked. “A shadow crossed over your face, and you suddenly seem so sad.”

She sighed and rubbed her cheek against his palm. “This wasn’t supposed to become so . . .”

“Involved? Emotional? Painful?”

She nodded. He’d used just the right words. How else to describe the rawness and the ache that had nothing to do with the kiss of the belt. “Maybe we shouldn’t continue . . . this,” she said.

“I won’t make the decision for you,” Damon said. “I want you to stay but I can’t and won’t make you.”

“I want to be here,” she said as she swallowed back the throb in her voice.

“Then you should stay.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

He tugged at her chin and rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. “It is simple. If you want to stay, then don’t go.”

“I feel as though I’ve lost something. Some part of myself. But I don’t know what, so how can I have missed it?”

“And what have you gained?” he asked softly.

She stared at him with wide eyes, his question hitting her hard enough to knock the breath from her. Gained. Lost. Wasn’t life a never ending process of both?

She looked down, unsure of what to say. He turned his wrist to glance at his watch and then made a sound of regret.

“You’re going to be late if you don’t shower and dress now, Serena mine.”

She laid her head down on his lap for a long moment as his fingers trickled down her hair. Then she nodded and pushed herself to stand in front of him. And waited.

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Go now, Serena. I’ll see about your breakfast while you get ready for work. I’ll be in the dining room.”

“You can’t avoid us forever, Serena. Don’t think I won’t show up at your office and drag you out kicking and screaming if I have to,” Faith said when Serena answered her office line.

Serena sighed and put her palm to her aching head. She shifted forward in her seat because whenever she brushed across the leather, it irritated her still-sensitive back.

“I’m busy, Faith. Trying to catch up after being away from work for a week.”

Faith snorted. “You’re avoiding me and we both know it. Be glad it’s me calling and not Julie.”

“Yeah, well why isn’t she?” Serena asked. “Not like her to miss out on an opportunity to be nosy.”

“She’s too busy plotting.”

“I don’t even want to know,” Serena said. And she didn’t. She was simply too tired and had too much on her mind to worry about whether or not Julie was ever going to make a move on Nathan. She said as much to Faith.

“I think she’s giving up on Nathan. Well, after she carries off her scheme to show him what he’s missing out on.”

Serena rolled her eyes, amused despite the heaviness weighing on her.

“You should probably know, she plans to approach Damon.”

“What?”

“Not personally and not until after your month is up,” Faith said quickly. “She wants him to set up a fantasy for her.”

“For the love of God,” Serena muttered. “He’s not a freaking pimp.”

“Says the woman who went to him for the same thing?” Faith pointed out.

“You’re not endearing yourself to me right now, Faith.”

“If it makes you feel any better, both Gray and I tried to talk her out of it. For different reasons, mind you. I don’t have a problem with Damon’s establishment, just Julie’s motivation. Gray hates The House and I think he’s afraid Julie will drag me there with her,” she finished with a laugh.

Serena didn’t want to think about the end of her time with Damon or that Julie would be going to him for help. Who was to say he wouldn’t volunteer for Julie’s fantasy?

Guilt nagged her even as she thought it. Nothing Damon had ever said or done made her think he approached sex so casually that he’d jump from her bed to her friend’s. And speaking of friends . . .

“Faith, about Micah.”

“What about Micah?” Faith asked.

“Do you and he . . . well, do you and he and Gray have an agreement?” God, how the hell was she supposed to put this anyway?

“Why are you asking?” Faith asked softly.

Fuck me.

“He saw me naked. Damon didn’t plan it that way, mind you. Was my own fault. But then he sort of participated in my punishment, and well, afterward, I remembered that you and him . . . that is, you and him and Gray . . . Well, I just felt bad about it.”

“Serena, there is nothing between me and Micah except deep friendship. I love him dearly, and yes, we had sex. Once. There is no agreement. Gray would have a coronary if someone suggested it. But now, you know you’re going to have to tell me all about this punishment Micah participated in, because it sounds freaking hot.”

Serena groaned. “Look, can we do this some other time? You’ve made sure I’m alive and well, and I really do have work to catch up on, and I sure as hell don’t want to be late tonight and cause Damon the same grief I caused last night.”

“But are you well?” Faith asked quietly. “I didn’t get the impression that things were okay yesterday. I’m worried about you, Serena. I’ve worried about you from the start of this. And I’m worried about Damon. I don’t want either of you hurt.”

“I don’t want us hurt either,” Serena said quietly. “But I’m afraid it might be too late.”

“Oh, Serena.” Faith’s unhappy voice filtered over the line. “Do you want me to meet you for lunch?”

“I really appreciate you trying to help, Faith. Really, I do. But this is something I have to work out on my own.”

“I understand, but I need to say one last thing. If you can’t give Damon what he wants, what he needs, then let him go.”

Serena stared at the phone for a long time after Faith hung up. Let him go. It sounded so easy. And it should be. Who the hell formed an attachment after only one week?

Okay, it had been longer than a week. But not much, and it was still too soon to feel so deeply for another person.

But that wasn’t what was important. They wanted different things, and not insignificant things like favorite foods or different brands of toothpaste. Damon wanted a woman like Serena had pretended to be for the last week, and he wanted her on a permanent basis.

“Serena?”

Serena looked up to see Carrie standing in her office doorway. She frowned. Carrie had been crying.

“What’s wrong?” she asked sharply.

“Mrs. Tasco just called.”

“Did something go wrong with the cruise?” Serena asked.

Carrie’s eyes filled with fresh tears. “No, in fact, it was perfect. Mrs. Tasco said she’d never seen Michelle so happy. They were scheduled to return to port today. Michelle died in her sleep last night.”

Serena went completely still. Her chest hurt as pressure increased.

“They just wanted to say thank you,” Carrie said in a choked voice. “They said Michelle’s last hours were so full of joy and wonder. The princess party you arranged was the highlight of her life.”

“Find out when funeral arrangements are being made,” Serena said. “Send flowers.”

Carrie stood there, her expression one of surprise. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“Just do it, Carrie. And if that’s all, I’m really busy right now.”

Carrie spun around and stalked from Serena’s office, slamming the door behind her. For a long moment, Serena stared at the closed door. Then she dropped her head to her desk, burying her face in her arms.

Her shoulders shook uncontrollably as the tears came. She was fooling herself. What she gave her clients wasn’t real. It wasn’t even a substitute for real. She dealt in games and deception.

She could give a little girl the trappings of being a princess, but she couldn’t give her what mattered most. A long, healthy life with parents who loved her.

Damon was wrong. Dreamers did die. They died every single day.

Damon was sitting in his chair when Serena walked in the door that afternoon. He laid aside his laptop and looked up, prepared to call her over. His welcome died on his lips when he saw her pale, strained face.

She dropped her briefcase by the door and kicked off her shoes almost mechanically. Then she walked slowly toward him, her eyes thick with grief. She looked as though she’d been crying, but she was completely dry-eyed now.

He got to his feet and crossed the room to meet her. As soon he got close, a small cry erupted from her lips and she threw herself in his arms. He gathered her close and held her as sobs cracked from her lips, falling harshly on his ears.

He guided her to the couch, half carrying her and half assisting and then sat, pulling her down onto his lap. “Serena, tell me what’s wrong. Are you hurt? What happened?”

She buried her face in his neck and held him tightly, her fingers digging into his skin. Her sobs continued to spill out and so he simply held her, until finally she quieted and lay limply against his chest, her strength drained.

“Serena?”

She tensed and drew in a slight breath, and her body felt small and fragile against his. Dread tightened around his throat because he couldn’t help but know what she was going to say.

“I’m leaving, Damon,” she said in a hoarse, quiet voice. “I tore up the contract. The agreement is done. You’re free.”

He went still. The pain of her announcement shocked him with its ferocity when it shouldn’t have. He knew it was coming, and yet he felt each word like a serrated edge over his heart.

“Why?” he demanded.

She started to pull away, almost violent in her movements as she sought to free herself from his embrace. But he wouldn’t let her up. No, she would face him and give him the reason, damn it. He wouldn’t make it easy for her when this was the hardest thing he’d ever had to confront.

He gathered her wrists in his hands and held them close to his chest. “Why, Serena? You owe me that much.”

“I owe you no explanation,” she said in a cold voice. “Either party can terminate the contract at will.”

“I don’t give a damn about the fucking contract. This isn’t about a piece of goddamn paper, Serena. This is you and me and what we’ve shared, and I deserve to know why you’re throwing it away.”

“I can’t live a lie any longer,” she whispered. “It hurts. Everything I do is a lie. It’s not real. It can’t be real. I can’t give people what they truly want or need and you aren’t any different. I can’t give you what you need, Damon, so I’m letting you go.”

He stared at her as the garbled explanation fell from her lips. She pushed herself away from him again, and this time he let her go.

She turned to go but before she took a step, he said her name. She hesitated but didn’t turn around.

“I love you, Serena.”

This time she stopped. He could see her shoulders trembling, see her fingers ball into fists at her sides.

“Stay,” he said softly.

Slowly, she turned around, devastation written on her face. Her mouth tightened and her throat worked up and down as she swallowed.

“No,” she whispered.

And there it was. The one word she’d never said. The one word he’d told her would free her. His pain was stunning and fierce. The finality of it rolled over him until he could barely stand it.

Her hand flew to her mouth and she made a sound, a wounded, pained sound that an animal might make. And then she ran.

Serena knew she was pushing herself too hard, she knew she was avoiding her friends, and she knew without a doubt that she didn’t have a prayer of ever getting over Damon.

She was a coward, a bitch, and she was heartbroken.

She hadn’t attended Michelle’s funeral. Carrie was livid and had called her heartless. Serena didn’t deny it. If she had any sort of a heart, she wouldn’t have strung Damon along making promises she couldn’t keep. Oh, she hadn’t overtly made any promises, but she’d bought into the whole fantasy. Lost herself in something that wasn’t real. She’d wanted it and wanted it badly.

No, going to the funeral wasn’t something she could handle, but still, she found herself walking slowly toward Michelle’s headstone as the evening shadows lengthened.