Page 81 of My Ruthless Husband

“You’re mine, always will be. Get used to it.”

I won’t. And I’ll do just about anything. Anything to get away from his clutches. That includes sleeping with him if need be.

“All right.”

He was checking his watch, but my words made him immediately look up at me. “All right?”

“You’re right. We want each other. There’s no point in delaying the inevitable.”

He narrows his eyes. “Why the change of heart?”

“Perhaps it was your impressive kissing skills that did the trick,” I taunt.

He arches his eyebrows, not believing me in the slightest but indulges me. “All right, angel.” He covers the distance between us and curls his arm around my waist, pulling me to his chest. “Let’s go home so I can make you my wife again.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Past

The soft knock on my apartment door startles me awake from an afternoon nap. As I shuffle toward the door, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I notice the city outside bathes in golden sunlight, and realize I’ve been out cold.

I open the door, surprised and a bit disoriented to find Dad standing there, a warm smile on his face. Before any words are exchanged, he opens his arms for a hug. I step in eagerly, feeling the strength and comfort of his hug enveloping me.

“Dad,” I manage to say, my voice catching in my throat. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this,” I admit, my voice muffled by his shoulder.

In response, he tightens his grip. “I know, sweetheart. I’ve missed you too.”

His cologne, a mix of cedar and musk, surrounds me. I press into the hug, relishing the beat of his heart against my ear.

After a moment, he releases me, a soft smile still lingering on his face. “Mind if I come in, sweet pea?”

“Of course, Dad,” I reply, stepping aside to let him enter. Derek, who was standing behind him nods at me before pulling the door shut.

“Is everything okay, River?” Dad turns to me then, standing in the center of the living room, looking ten years older than his actual age.

I slowly walk to him and fold my arms around him again. “Yes.”

He pauses for a beat then sighs and hugs me back. “You had me so worried yesterday.” The concern in his voice is palpable, and the sincerity of his worry tugs at my heart.

“I know,” I reply. “I didn’t mean to, really. Things just got a bit… overwhelming.”

He holds me at arm’s length as he studies my face. “You can always talk to me, sweetheart. Whatever it is, we can figure it out together.”

The meaning behind his words is loud and clear. He knows I lied about being with friends yesterday. He knows I am hiding something and instead of calling me out on that, he is letting me decide whether I want to share it with him or not.

A small smile plays on my lips, appreciating the warmth of his support. “I know, Dad. And I will. Promise.” When the time is right. As if he heard the silent words, he settles on the couch. I busy myself by going to the kitchen. I put the kettle on and retrieve the chamomile tea box, aware of his worried glance following me.

Everything is okay, Dad, I want to say. Everything is more than okay. I finally got the man of my dreams. The thought itself makes me weak in the knees.

After kissing me passionately amidst the busy street, Damian took me back to his hotel. Actually, he carried me there because my legs decided to give up on me after that soul stirring kiss.

Throughout the way, I felt people’s gaze on me but I was so exhausted and weak that I simply ignored them all by burying my face in his throat. Nothing made sense between us at that moment but in his arms, things felt right.

I kept my eyes shut and only opened them when I heard the door clicking softly shut behind us. The subdued lighting cast a warm ambiance across the grand foyer of the presidential suite. But I couldn’t appreciate the view because Damian kept walking through the large sitting area that had a grand piano until he reached the bedroom.

I remember how he gently lowered me onto the plush bed. Then he disappeared briefly and came back sans the tie and coat jacket, carrying a carafe of water, glass and a plate of fruits.

He then poured water into the glass. But instead of giving it to me, he sat beside me and held it to my lips. I reached for it and only then saw how my fingers trembling badly. His jaw had tightened when he saw that too. And on some level, it felt good that I had managed to rock the steel like control of Damian Montgomery.

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