Page 44 of Rekindling Desire

Damien

Over a year ago

I stared up at the ceiling, watching the headlights from the street below chase away the shadows, as various degrees of light and dark danced high above. Turning to my side, I took in the sleeping woman. Her long golden hair fanned behind her head. Her lips were parted. Soft sounds of breathing created a hum.

Our earlier conversation ran on repeat in my head.

Marriage.

Unable to sleep, I exhaled a long, exasperated breath before slowly rolling to the edge of the bed and slipping out from under the blankets. As I searched for my clothes, Amber rolled, her arms searching where I had just been.

“Damien?” She squinted her eyes, searching through the momentary darkness.

“Go to sleep. I’m getting some water.”

“Come back to bed as soon as you can.”

I nodded, knowing it was a lie. Wearing only my boxers, I once again took her in. A quick glance told me that in only seconds, her eyes were closed, and she was making her way back to dreamland.

Sleep wasn’t something I could do.

Running my hand over my hair, I stood for a moment, watching the woman who could be my forever. I didn’t feel it.

Am I supposed to?

I was far from a romantic.

Nevertheless, the longer I lay in her bed, the heavier my chest felt. I had to move before I suffocated beneath the growing weight.

Amber Wilmott.

I’d known her most of my life. Her mother had been part of the Sinclair Pharmaceuticals executive board since I was a teenager. Her father was in the US Senate before his passing. Our families were close—dinners, cookouts, even vacations. Jordon Wilmott aided Sinclair with a few government approvals back in the day. Despite my knowing Amber for so long, there was a sense of familiarity that was missing and had been since my last relationship fell apart.

Fucking Ella.

I couldn’t think about the void she left.

Gathering my clothes, I made my way down the hall to Amber’s kitchen. The clock over the stove said it was only a little before two in the morning. Time to sleep.

My mind was too chaotic to sleep.

This was supposed to be a happy day, euphoric even.

The day I proposed.

I didn’t propose. The subject of marriage came up again as it often had since Amber and I began dating. It was time. I was in my late thirties, and not getting any younger. My career was moving the right direction. And then there was the bombshell Gloria dropped on us a few days ago. By marrying, I could fast-track my probationary period as CEO and get the permanent title.

The news had come as such a shock, I called my father.

He said he wasn’t aware of the addendum, yet I had a copy of the bylaws and could read it in black and white. After sending him a copy, Dad did what he always does. He added his two cents.

“Don’t marry someone for the wrong reason. If you love her, then consider the permanent title the cherry on the top. If you don’t like the sundae below, that cherry is fucking insignificant.”

His advice was eating at me, nibble by nibble.

Amber could be fun to be around. She enjoyed the spotlight. Fancy dinners and nightclubs were her thing. Tall, blond, and curvy, she looked good on my arm. More than once, her mother had commented on how we would make a power couple.

When it came to sex, she was a wildcat. Nails and teeth and willing for anything.

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