Page 11 of Exile
Alexander cocks an eyebrow, dropping the charade. "The feeling is very much mutual. But we'll be spending plenty of time together, dear Avery. After all, being a shareholder means you have responsibilitiesto me. And if Damon isincapacitated, you'll have to step up in his place as his…wife," he says, spitting out the word in disgust.
"The only responsibilities I have," I scoff. "Are to Damon—which Ithoroughlyenjoy. But rest assured, Damon and I will take great care ofourbusiness. I doubt you'll be involved much longer."
He takes a step toward me, and immediately, Alyssa jumps up from her seat, coming around from the side of the desk to place herself in front of me.
"Mr. Dale, as I have already mentioned, you are not an approved visitor—regardless of your threats. You need to leave now before I contact security and have you escorted from the building."
Narrowing his eyes on her, I grab her arm and pull her back, taking her place in his line of fire.
"You heard her," I say darkly, interjecting before he can speak. "Fuck off and don't come back. You're not welcome here or anywhere else where it concerns Damon."
Alexander straightens up, adjusting his tie with a tilted forced smile. "Iwillbe seeing you soon, Avery. Damon, as well."
We watch as he turns and heads toward the exit without a backward glance. Once out of sight, Alyssa puts her hand on my back.
"Well… isn't he a bundle of sunshine? Come on, sweetheart. I just got word that your husband is out of recovery and has been placed in a room. I'll take you to see him."
Chapter 5
Damon
Opening my eyes, the first thing I discover is the annoying abundance of physical pain. Accompanying that, sound logic indicates that perhaps my father finally finished off the job and I'm firmly in Hell for the rest of eternity.
But the second thought I have is if I'm in Hell, why is there a goddamn ethereal woman with her face buried into my bed?
Glancing down, I lift an eyebrow at the ebony locks sprawled out over the white blanket. The top of her head is resting against my leg and when I move the rigid muscles, she suddenly bursts upright with alarmed, wide eyes. As quickly as she moved, pink lips part with relief, eyes softening as she takes in my semi-amused expression.
"Damon…" Avery breathes out, jumping to her feet.
And just like that, I forget that it feels like I've been dragged miles over broken glass by a speeding truck.
"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" I say in a cracked tone.
"Are you in pain?" She asks, ignoring my comment. As if needing to feel helpful, her hands start running over my legs like she's assessing me for the answer. I'm not sure that's theproper way to determine pain levels in a patient but I resist bursting her little doctor bubble. Maybe she just wants to make sure I'm actually alive and not a figment of her imagination.
Only a short time ago, she probably would have wished I was dead. After all, she did aptly name meDemon Boyfor a reason. How the times have changed.
"I'm fine."
Leaning over me, I catch sight of her reaching for something—a button. At first, I think she must be buzzing for a nurse. But as my eyes follow the length of the cord, I spot a PCA machine attached to it beside me.
"Don't bother," I say, voice still hoarse. "I said I'm fine."
"Shut up," Avery shoots back coolly, hitting the button. The machine beeps in response, and a cold sensation enters my wrist.
Fucking machines and IVs. The only thing that should be attached to my body is her—permanently, if I had my way.
Avery pretends to ignore me despite her flustered cheeks giving her away. It's almostcutethat she thinks she's in control and is attempting to take charge.
"Wife," I say sharply, noticing her still immediately. Her cheeks turn an even darker shade of red, uncontainable emotions clearly visible on her face as my words cause a visceral reaction. But to her credit, she quickly shoves them away, stubbornly turning her attention back to providing medical care. "Drugging me now, are you? And on our honeymoon."
"Please," Avery scoffs, acting unaffected. "If someone wanted to take advantage of you, they would have done so while you were unconscious. Not while you're high and probably seeing dancing unicorns or neon-flashing knives."
"That sounds oddly like Grey's delirious state of mind—not mine."
She leans against the bed, hip jutting into the crocheted white blanket as she crosses her arms. "And what would yours be,dear husband?"
Smirking at her, I don't let on howher wordsare affectingme. There's something about Avery acknowledging our newlynot exactly spokenvows which makes me want to be possessive of her.
