Page 56 of Devotion

To keep from seeming like I’m eavesdropping on either conversation, I scan the room, feeling far less guilty gawking at couples I don’t know than I do gawking at my friends. This spot draws a more mature crowd thanThe Jungle,but it’s not exactly stiff or stale. Just chill.

My eyes drift toward the door when it swings open, and I try to guess what combination will walk in next. Will it be a bachelorette party staggering through the entrance, clearly having stopped elsewhere for a few drinks before they got here? Or maybe a handful of guys out celebrating one’s recent divorce? I smile, waiting to see if either of those predictions are right, but half a second later, that smile is completely gone, and my jaw falls slack.

Standing at the entrance in dark slacks paired with a wine-colored shirt, and a petite model-type hanging on his arm… isfuckingMartinez. He hasn’t spotted me, but that smug look on his face means he’s come here with a date for one reason. To get under my skin.The woman on his arm looks like she hasn’t smiled in years, and as she pushes long, dark hair over her shoulder, she stares down her nose at everyone else in the room.

My posture stiffens and all the bad energy I’d managed to get rid of comes rushing back in one powerful wave, crashing over me while I try to remember to breathe.

Seeing him with someone else doesn’t have the effect on me I’m guessing he’s hoping it will. What’s jarring is that he’d stoop this low, showing up at the time and location of Dove and Chris’s engagement party. After he admitted to getting the reminder for the event just this morning.

Does he think this will hurt?

Does he want me to feel like I’ve missed out on something?

Or is he just a world-class asshole with the mental capacity of a middle school boy?

Before I can gather myself, he spots me and shoots a smirk my way. I swear I want to full-on growl right now, but I refuse to let anyone know what’s happened. My girls have never met or even seen Martinez, so as long as I can keep my composure and control my anger, things should be fine.

I shift my attention, pretending he isn’t even here, but I’m aware as he pulls out his date’s seat, and then drops down across from her at their table.

It dawns on me that I’ve got nothing to prove. If staying here is going to fuck up my vibe again, there’s no shame in admitting this—coupled with the shit he pulls at work—is too much for me.

With that, I decide to lay my ego aside and dismiss myself for the evening. However, the second my lips part to whisper the first lie that comes to mind into Isha’s ear, I’m startled by a shadow over my shoulder, towering over me.

I peer up, half expecting to find Martinez’s brazen ass standing there. But the moment my eyes lock on a set of gray-blue irises so familiar it’s like I’ve stared into them a thousand times, it’s clear my assumption was wrong.

“Damien…”

His name falls from my mouth like a piece of candy falling from my lips—lingering sweetness, wishing I could’ve savored it just a moment longer.

Dark ink creeps up the side of his neck in the shape of a large spider, the legs extending past the collar of his black dress shirt with the top two buttons undone. He smells like lust and eternity, and I want to drown myself in it. A dark gray suit fits him to absolute perfection, while his watch and cufflinks glitter beneath the dim lights on the track above our table.

Like the last time we were face-to-face, his hair is this sexy tamed-but-untamed mess of dark strands with a slight curl to them on top. Then the cut tapers low in the back and on the sides, fading into a nicely trimmed and edged style. It’s like this man bathed in sex, money, and temptation, slipped into a suit, and then lowered himself into my life like that spider inked on his neck. I imagine it, him sitting, patiently waiting for my guard to be down, so he can strike.

I swallow deeply, trying to think of what to say as the quiet conversations once going on around the table grow faint before stopping completely. I can only assume everyone’s now tuned into the sceneI’mnot even sure how to explain. However, Damien’s relaxed smile somehow melts away the anxiety that had me frozen in place.

“You’re…here,” I practically choke out.

I’m frozen again when he takes my chin, and then holds my gaze as the distance between us is swallowed up. Then, half a second later, his lips meet mine.

I’m not sure if he meant for this to be deep and sensual, but my lips just sort of part on their own, begging for his tongue. He happily obliges as I’m sure my friends all stare in utter shock, watching as I fight to hold back the urge to swallow this man whole.

He exercises more self-control than I could eventhinkto muster and pulls away.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says, smiling down on me like we’d discussed his being here.

Isha’s husband grabs a seat from the table beside us, offering it to Damien as Dove’s guests make room. Damien settles in beside me, sporting a wicked smile that hides a multitude of secrets, but he’s made one thing crystal clear.

He doesn’t intend to let me push through the evening alone.

As of sixty seconds ago, I went from being dateless and watching Martinez waltz into the lounge with some random, tothis.

Having the most devastatingly attractive“plus one”at the table.

21

Layla

Dove, Isha, and Eliza have never been speechless. Not in all the years I’ve known them. These ladiesalwayshave something to say, but as Damien settles in beside me, casually draping his arm across the back of my chair, there’s only complete silence coming from the three.

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