Page 27 of Master of My Life

strange feeling, being in control of her powers instead of them controlling her. No one would hurt her.

They wouldn’t dare.

Hell, they didn’t want to hurt her. They wanted to enjoy her. They wanted to please her.

Later, as she leaned back into Richard’s arms, listening to him talk with a man named Wesley, an

executive at a national bank, Kathy walked up and put her hand on Richard’s arm. “Are we ready to

start dinner?”

“Just waiting on Damian.”

The name struck her mind like a lightning bolt. “Damian?”

Richard nodded. “Damian Sinclair. You know him?”

“I met him at the donor party.” She hadn’t talked to him since that last horrible night with Aiden.

“Ah. He said he’d met someone special, but I didn’t get details.” He glanced at Wesley and Kathy.

“Would you please excuse us?” He took Sabrina’s arm and guided her to an empty corner of the room.

Richard studied her and Sabrina shifted from foot to foot. “You two went out a few times, right?”

Sabrina nodded, staring at the wood-paneled wall.

Richard put his hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him. “Did he hurt you?”

She bit her lip, not sure she wanted to admit what happened when clearly Richard respected

Damian enough to invite him to a Brotherhood dinner.

Chase appeared at her side, pulling her gently away from Richard. “What happened?”

“I told her that Damian Sinclair is coming to dinner.”

“Damian?” Chase frowned, looking confused.

Sabrina’s shoulders slumped. When she’d told Chase about that last night with Aiden, she hadn’t

told him about Damian being there. She had forgotten . . . somehow.

How could she have forgotten about Damian? Sabrina started to rub her face but remembered she

was wearing makeup and dropped her hands to her sides. She clenched her fists, knowing she needed

to answer the two men, but her voice wouldn’t work.

“Sabrina, do you know Damian?” Chase asked.

She nodded.

“They went out a few times,” Richard said.

Chase stiffened. “You didn’t tell me that.”

Sabrina’s shoulders slumped even more. She hadn’t been trying to hide it. She just . . . forgot. But

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