Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“And why didn’t you?” I ask, already saddened by his upcoming answer.
“I was next in line to take over my father’s legacy.”
“Why didn’t you just say no? It’s your life, not his.”
He brushes a loose strand of hair away from my face. “I did.” He doesn’t continue with the rest of his answer. He seems to disappear into his head for a quick moment before realizing his actions. “I was technically never meant to step in line to take over Exquisite. My brother was.”
His words shock me. I didn’t realize he had a brother. Not that we’ve gotten into any deep conversations about ourselves. “And why didn’t he? Did he not want it? Where’s he now?”
“Dead.”
I gasp. “Oh, Damien, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he says, raising his lips to mine for a sweet, short kiss. “It was a long time ago.”
Time or not, it’s still a moment in his life that will forever affect him. His brother and his dad, both gone. My heart aches to know he has no one. I lift my hand to caress his cheek. My open palms brush against the growing stubble on his face. “Still, I’m sorry you had to endure such sadness.”
There is no hiding the pain in his eyes. He may think he’s over it, or mastered hiding the emotions, but they still live deep inside him. “I was nineteen when it happened. I was overseas in Prague, a three-month graffiti and urban art tour, when my instructor was notified to send me home. My brother and father were in an accident. My father was drunk. So was my brother. They had no boundaries when it came to rules. My father lived and died Exquisite, and James was just like him. We were close. He practically raised me while my father raised his club. When my father refused to pay for my schooling, telling me I was a fairy for wanting to explore art, my brother secretly paid for it. He allowed me to do what I truly loved. But when they died, it left only me to step in.”
Jesus. I don’t know what to say. There isn’t anything that can justify all the hardship he bared. I want to tell him how sorry I am, but now I see how petty those words are. Then it hits me. “The camera. It was yours.”
He nods. “My father died instantly, from what I was told. Motherfucker wasn’t wearing his seatbelt and went right through the windshield into a tree, snapping his neck. My brother didn’t have the same fate. He suffered. Spent weeks on a ventilator. If he ever woke up, he would have been paralyzed. His brain activity was dead. The hospital tried to convince me time and time again to let him go. He was already gone. But I refused. No way could the one person I loved be gone. In time, I realized what they had been trying to tell me since the moment he was wheeled into the hospital. He was gone, and I was alone.”
The first tear slides down the side of my face. I want to be strong and listen to his story, but I can’t stop them. It’s as if I’m experiencing the pain all over again with him. Suffering the sadness through his tormented eyes. It suddenly makes sense about the Van Gogh painting and the mention of the love he shared with his brother. “You did the right thing. It was time to let his body rest.”
“I wasn’t given much of a choice either way. The hospital wanted payment, and…well, I had no means to pay. Fredrick was my father’s right-hand man, so he stepped in and took care of everything. He brought me to Exquisite and basically sat me in my father’s throne, telling me it was my job to adhere in my father’s wishes.”
My emotions are rapid as my sadness turns to anger. How dare Fredrick do that to a grieving boy. Nineteen may be old enough to be on his own, but to throw a sex club in his lap after losing his brother and father is just wrong. “I knew there was a reason I didn’t like Fredrick,” I spit out, angry for him.
Damien shows me a small smile. “You getting all feisty on me, pet?” He laughs, sitting up and kissing the bottom of my chin.
“I’m getting mad at a guy who shouldn’t have taken advantage of you. Why didn’t he run the club?”
“Oh, trust me, I’m sure he wanted to. He didn’t spend half his life being my father’s dog, just to become mine. But you have good instincts, same as me. I didn’t trust him. I wasn’t convinced he didn’t have something to do with their death to win over the seat. It took me years to drop the theory. But now, he’s learned his place. In the past few years, he’s made some poor judgments, but soon, he won’t be an issue for me.”