Page 20 of De Luca: The Saint

Running my hands up his chest, I roll my eyes, “Well, that’s not hard when they all want it, is it?”

He arches a brow, “Are you jealous, Angel? You have no reason to be. I have no interest in any other woman. You have captured one hundred percent of my attention.”

I wrap my arms around his waist and press the side of my face against his chest. He returns my embrace and holds me tight, “Good answer, Damian.”

His phone vibrates in his pocket, making me jump. He chuckles as he retrieves his phone and looks at it. I assume reading a text message.

“Your things are at my house. Are you ready to go?”

I nod, “Yes.”

He wraps his arm around my waist as we walk back into the elevator. I stand in front of him, he has his arms around me, holding me tightly when my mind goes crazy with internal thoughts I wish I didn’t have, “How many women have you brought here?”

“Kat, don’t.”

While not an answer, his response tells me everything I need to know. I’m not special, only one of many. Am I the flavor of the week, month, or longer? I have no doubt I’m in deep. If I weren't, his response wouldn’t matter. Had Damian not cracked my heart wide open, I could just call this amazing sex.

We walk silently to the car hand-in-hand. While we’re close together right now, it feels like there’s a mountain between us.

He opens my door, and I know he feels it, too. He sighs as I slide in. Walking around to the other side, he gets in, “Seatbelt?”

Given the way he drives, a seatbelt is a necessity, so I fasten mine.

He glances at me before focusing on the road as he speeds away. “This car is built to drive like a race car while being completely street legal. It would be a shame to drive like Grandma with this baby.”

Not another word is said on the entire drive back to his Penthouse. I spend my time staring out the window while I can hear the sounds of Damian gripping his leather steering wheel hard.

When we finally arrive, he parks in his garage.

I don’t bother waiting for him to open my door. I need to find some space, but I don’t know if he’ll let me have it. I need breathing room.

We walk inside, and he asks, “Can I get you a drink?”

“No, thank you. Would you mind if I take a shower?”

He shrugs, “Alone?”

I nod, “Please.”

Disappointment flashes across his face before he stows it under his carefully controlled expression, “You can use the master bathroom. Your clothes have been put in the dresser and the closet. Help yourself.”

I stare at him while trying to process the words I should say. I open my mouth, and nothing comes out. He’s beautiful and has a sweet side with me, but I don’t know if I can handle everything. It’s hard to explain that you’re jealous of someone’s past. I’m a dumb, naive girl who thought she was special, but I’m not. Eventually, he’ll grow tired of me, and it’ll be over. I’m not sure how, but I need to protect my heart. If I don’t, one day, he’s going to smash it to smithereens.

Chapter Twelve

Damian

She wanted me to lie to her, and I was tempted, but I don’t do that. I’m crazy about her, but surely she must know I have a past. Was I wrong for bringing her to a place I’d brought other women? There aren’t many places I could take her where I haven’t had another woman. I won’t apologize for having a life before Kat. I don’t understand why she’s so upset, but I do know she is.

Even if she doesn't realize it, Kat wears her emotions on her sleeve. I could see it in her face on the balcony. I could hear it in the tremble in her voice when she asked if I had brought other women there.

I walk over to my bar beside my floor-to-ceiling windows and pour myself two fingers of whiskey. I down it quickly before I go upstairs to talk to the woman who has captured my heart even though she has no fucking clue. I have not kept my feelings for her a secret. I’ve never been this open with a woman before. Normally, I don’t discuss my family at all, past or present.

She’s still in the shower when I walk into the room, so I go to the bed, sit on the edge, lean my elbows on my knees, and place my face in my hands. I don’t know what I’m even going to say to her. There has to be something because I can’t handle her looking at me like I’ve hurt her.

Kat comes out of the bathroom, she stands still as if she’s unsure what to do.

My gaze travels from her feet to her face, and all the breath leaves my lungs. Jesus Christ, this woman is gorgeous. She’s in pink fluffy pajama pants with Hello Kitty on them and a white spaghetti strap tank top. No woman should look so fucking sexy wearing those god-awful pants. Somehow, she does. Her long dark hair is wet, and it only makes me want her more.

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