Page 31 of Tear Me Down
“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’ like a smartass.
“You're so aggravating.” I nudge him again, and all he does is chuckle as he rubs the spot on his shoulder, feigning pain. “What if I decide to spend one hundred grand on this party?” He runs his large, callused thumb over my bottom lip. Eyeing it like he’s going to put it between his teeth.
“Pocket change, baby,” he whispers, and I immediately feel myself trying to cower into my own body. One hundred thousand dollars is pocket change? I'm not even sure what to say to that. He’s joking, right? That’s an exaggeration? “Have you not seen our house?” he adds, actually looking a little confused. Yep. Nope, he’s not joking.
“Yeah, and I love our house, but I can only imagine how much a month it is.” The way my voice squeaks is borderline embarrassing.
He deepens his confused features and shakes his head.
“I paid for it all in cash.”
My eyes widen at his confession, and suddenly I'm nervous again. I figured he hadsomemoney, but THAT MUCH money? I mean, yeah, he bought a brand-new car so I didn’t have to look at an Audi, but I just figured he traded the old one in. Of course, DH needs money to run efficiently, but that’s nothismoney. Is it?
“We need to have a serious conversation about a lot of things.”
“I can have Melanie go over our finances with you.” He smirks.
“You're ridiculous.” I poke him on the tip of his nose. “But speaking of money…” I say nervously, feeling the anxiety churn in my stomach. His features harden again, probably already guessing what I’m going to say. “I would really like to go back to work tomorrow.”
“Ashia…” His gaze pinpoints on my eyes, and his seriousness begins to build.
“I know you took care of Emmett, but I can’t just sit around all day, Damien. I’ve done that for a week now, and Emmett said the walk-ins haven’t slowed since I’ve been gone. You know how many people I normally do a day—he’s got to be overwhelmed.”
Another defeated breath inflates his chest, and a thoughtful glaze washes over his face. He thinks for a moment, and I can tell he’s debating whether to argue with me or give in.
“If you're going back to work, one of my guys is going with you,” he says definitively.
“You want to send me with a babysitter?” I don't mean for my tone to come off so bratty, but it does.
“Not a sitter, protection. What if men come back for you, and I can’t get there? You’re already lucky I don’t lock you inside the house and keep you there. I'll send Zeke with you.”
Now it's my turn to get serious. How can he expect me to pretend like Zeke didn’t rip his heart out of his chest last night?
“Zeke? After what he said to you last night, I could kill him,” I seethe, but Damien just shakes his head. The thought of killing someone else only adds to the rise of acid in the back of my throat, but I am extremely mad at him.
“I'm not worried about what he said, and he’s good, almost as good as me, and that’s all I’m willing to wager with. I don’t want you in harm's way, and I know he’ll die before something happens to you.”
I nod in agreement and take a breath through my nose, feeling the nausea start to build and the burning flare up, but I stay silent so I don’t throw up on him. He eyes me warily, studying my features in the way he always reads me, and all I can do is hope he doesn't notice.
“It’s just until everything settles down, and I can show you some things. You said you wanted some training? No fighting yet, but we can go over weak points and self-defense moves.” His voice comes off as concerned, but I can't tell if he notices how I'm feeling. Taking a deep breath through my nose again, I compose myself long enough to respond.
“Sure, I’m going to use the bathroom first. I'll be right back.” I pat his chest once and turn to walk back in the other direction, towards where we were sitting. Which, thankfully, is near the bathroom. Ser is the first to notice me, and she eyes me in a way that tells me she can tell I'm uncomfortable. Which means Damien obviously noticed it as well.
Shit.
Walking into the bathroom is like crossing the finish line after a long race where that last rush floods your body and releases. This feeling certainly isn't one of victory, and the flow isn't calm. It's nothing but wave after wave of burning acid, and I give into it as I throw my head over the porcelain bowl. Quick steps echo between the small walls and travel closer as I hear the door open and close.
“Ash? You okay?” Serena asks, walking up behind me—immediately wiping the stray hairs from my face for me. Once I get to a point where I'm only dry heaving, I nod, knowing the nurse in her needs a response. I sit back on my feet and breathe through my nose to coerce my gag reflex to subside, knowingthat my stomach needs a break from the retching. She begins to rub my back when we hear the door start to open, and she instantly withdraws. Her small footsteps carry her back and I can hear her wrestle with the door. “Damien, just give her a minute.”
“Let me in, Serena, before I push you out of the way.” His voice is soft but menacing—a warning that I know she'll fight.
“Or what? Are you going to rearrange my face too? She doesn’t need your overbearing ass suffocating her,” she exclaims, and a heavy tension fills the small bathroom. The power of their hostility is palpable, like their dislike for one another might explode right here and now. We don’t need another altercation today, and the last thing I want is a screaming match between my fiancé and my best friend.
So, I reluctantly stand up, feeling the room shift a little, and walk over to the sink.
“He’s fine, Ser. Let him in.” I begin to run some water over my face as he barrels his way in, stepping fiercely in only a couple of strides before I feel him behind me.
“Seriously, Ash?” Serena complains and smacks the side of her hip with her palm—almost in a tantrum. I give her a quick and desperate look, silently begging her not to argue with either of us. I’m not feeling up for it, and I’m sure neither of them truly are either.
