Page 81 of The Summer I Destroyed You

He tips my chin up and I meet his eyes. “Em, don’t even think about fucking him.”

We aren’t really a couple, so this isn’t something he can demand. And the truth is that while I have no desire to sleep with Damien Ellis, I have a job to do, and I’m going to get it done one way or another. “You don’t control me.”

“I know I don’t control you. That’s why I’m telling you not to fuck him. Otherwise, I’d just use the remote to shut down your power every night.”

I laugh. “My remote? You’ve given a lot of thought to this.”

“I tried building a robot version of you first, but I’ve decided I’ll just implant a chip in your shoulder, which will suddenly make you want to stay in Elliott Springs and do what I say.”

“I imagine you’d program me to suck you off on demand first and get so excited you’d implant the chip before you got to anything else.”

He exhales as if I’ve punched him, wincing as he adjusts himself. “You can’t suggest something like that and expect me to wait ’til we get home. On your knees, robot.”

I laugh against his ear. “Even a robotically controlled version of me would have enough sense not to blow you in full view of Main Street.” I tug on his hand. “Let’s go.”

He pulls me back. “Okay. But Em…tomorrow night?” He shakes his head instead of completing the words, and then he kisses me hard and thoroughly, with his hands on my face, as if I’m going off to war and he might never see me again.

I wish I could swear nothing’s going to happen with Damien, but I can’t. I live my whole life as if it’s a war. If only one of us can win, me or Liam, it’s going to be me.

* * *

I land in LA and spend a few hours shopping in Brentwood after I’ve checked into the hotel. The crowd there is minimal and everyone is smiling. There’s a courtyard where people enjoy their lattes and croissants, and I picture being here with Liam. He’d tell me to get the croissant and latte when I was only going to get black coffee. I’d take him through the stores, and he’d be appalled by the kind of money the clothes cost, but if something made me happy, he’d push me to get it. If something made me happy and I couldn’t afford it, I wouldn’t even mention wanting it because I know he’d try to find a way to make it happen.

How did we end up where we are? He is loving and generous and kind, and anyone would adore him. I’m ruthless and amoral and self-centered, and only he could like me in spite of it.

I’m scared of what might change about my life if I believed this thing between us would last.

I walk into the gallery a half hour late, wearing a black halter dress that makes me look as leggy as a supermodel, my hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail, my red lips the only pop of color.

“There she is,” says Damien, reaching out to pull me into the circle of sycophants who surround him, his eyes sweeping over me from head to toe. “The exquisite Miss Hughes.”

He introduces me to various people I will likely forget. The gallerist, his assistant, a couple whose names are familiar though I’m not sure why.

He hands me a glass of champagne and then says he wants to show me a piece around the corner. I smile, sipping from the flute, but the popping bubbles in my mouth sound like tiny alarm bells.

“So, Miss Hughes, tell me something,” he says, grinning that same seductive half-smile I’ve seen on magazine covers, all sex and promise, “what is it you’re after?”

He wants me to flirt. He wants me to say, “Many things, but it’s a Friday night and this champagne is delicious, so I’m open to suggestions.”

“I’d like to talk to you about Inspired Building,” I say instead. “I think they could be printing money with the right leadership.”

He sizes me up, waiting for me to offer him something more, when what I’m offering him already is plenty: it’s an investment that would pay off significantly.

“The right leadership meaning…you?” he asks.

“No,” I reply. “The right leadership meaning us. I can show you numbers, but they’re spending too much time and money on areas that are already sought after instead of looking ahead, finding the place nobody wants, and making it a destination.”

There’s a glint of interest in his eyes. “It’s very selfless of you to bring me this proposal, Miss Hughes, but I get the feeling you’re not here out of the goodness of your heart.”

“There’s some dead weight at the top that would need to go, and I’d like to fill the vacancy once it happens.”

“What an interesting girl you are,” he muses. “You look like a model but you sound like a cutthroat CEO, and I think I like the combination. I’ve got a room across the street. I’ll order up a bottle of wine and we’ll look at your numbers.”

My heart is skittering in my throat. It’s on the tip of my tongue to agree.

And then I think of Liam moving me to the inside of the sidewalk as we walk down the street, saving my stores when I’d never even been nice to him. I think of him laughing at my threats on Frank’s life, beating up Paul Bellamy on my behalf and never even mentioning he did it. Saying if he could control me, he’d just shut me down at night with the remote.

It will all amount to nothing, and I’m sure I’ll later curse myself for blowing this chance, but I just can’t act as if it’s all meaningless. It’s not, even if it should be.

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