Page 138 of Marrying the Billionaire Single Dad
Damian
I stare across the garden at the greenhouse. The greenery creeps up the transparent panels of the walls, to crisscross the area. It lends a spider-web kind of appearance to the entire space. A bit like my life right now. Only difference is, I am caught in a web of my own making.
How could I have fucked things up so royally? I had married her, and she had almost died. That… That says it all. If something had happened to her…? I could have never forgiven myself. For a second there, when I’d said my vows, I’d almost believed that I could make a go of it, have a happily ever after. Who the hell had I been kidding? Those kinds of happy endings don’t exist for assholes like me who can’t put a step forward without getting it all wrong.
There’s a noise behind me. I turn to find Arpad leaning against the door of my studio.
"You?" I growl.
"Expecting someone else?"
"You’re on the wrong side of the door," I mutter.
"You’re on the wrong side of life, you bloody coward," he roars.
"Tell me something I don’t know." I cross the floor to the settee in the far corner and sink into it. Then lift my bottle of whiskey in his direction, "Want some?"
He frowns. "Christ, Savage, it’s not even noon."
"It’s noon somewhere in the world."
He glares at me. "Pull yourself together."
"What does this look like?" I swig from the bottle of liquor.
My stomach protests; I ignore it. I deserve to be stinking drunk, enough that I wipe out the memory of her eyes, her face, how she’d paled when I’d announced the I was getting the marriage annulled. Hell. I raise the bottle of whiskey and swig from it again.
"Are you done destroying what little there is left of you?"
"Done?" I laugh. "I’m barely getting started." I tilt the bottle to my lips, suck on empty air. "Shit." I glance around, then lean over to place it right next to its twin, equally empty, as are all of the others that I have arranged in a line on the coffee table in front of me. "You have to admit I’m at least a tidy drunk," I mumble.
"What you are, is a bloody pussy."
"No argument from me on that." I stagger to my feet and weave my way to the bar, where I reach for another bottle of whiskey. A hand stops me… Not mine… Which means it must belong to that ass, Arpad. I follow the arm attached to it, to the face of my friend, who glowers at me. "What?" I groan. "Can’t a man enjoy his liquor in peace, at least?"
He snatches the bottle from me. I reach for another. He pushes that out of my reach and I stumble around the bar toward the bottles placed against the wall.
"Don’t do it," he snaps.
I raise my middle finger in the air. "I just did it."
I hear him move; the hair on the nape of my neck rises. I know he’s coming for me, and I turn, but hey, guess what? All the liquor I drank has, in fact, slowed down my reflexes. Imagine that? He grabs me by my shoulder and begins to haul me toward the door of the study. "What the fuck man?" I protest, "What the hell are you up to?"
"Thank me for the fact that I still care enough to come here and haul your ass away from the path of self-destruction you are on."
He shoulders open the door and marches me down the hallway.
"So, what’s new?" I laugh. "It’s what I do best. Destroy everything good that ever comes into my life."
"What the hell, Savage?" He releases me so quickly that I stumble, then right myself.
"Hey, watch it," I mumble.
"No, you watch it," he yells.
My ears begin to ring. "Pipe down, man," I mutter. "If you make too much noise, you’ll wake up Ri—"Shit.I flatten my lips.
"Riley?" His features take on a stricken look. "Damian… What are you talking about? Riley’s gone. Your daughter’s dead, Damian."
