Page 80 of Marrying the Billionaire Single Dad
26
Julia
I walk up the sidewalk toward The Shard.
That catch-up with Isla and Karina… It did wonders for my confidence… Oh, wait, maybe that’s the alcohol that’s running through my bloodstream. The cool night air wakes me up. I’d taken a cab here after Karina had told me what she could about Damian…which was not anything I didn’t already know, except for the information about his family.
Seems he has a sister who is married and has a daughter, and he is close with her and her family. His own parents? Not so much. Which isn’t unusual. And he dropped out of the public eye about a year ago… And no, she couldn’t tell me why… So overall, I am back where I started. Which is why I am here… I mean, no way, am I headed home after what happened today. My own flat, it feels strange… But this apartment—Okay, Damian’s apartment, with its view over the city... I feel invincible here. Or closer to him… Okay, that too… And it's past ten pm, and on a Sunday. So what, if he’s busy today? I can still come over, right?
Maybe he is waiting here…or not. I snort. Like Big Daddy D would ever wait for anything. God forbid, it might put a dent in that inflated ego of his… Or in other parts of him, which are also inflated… Like his dick. Man, that is gigantic. I’ve never seen anything like it… And how the hell had he actually shoved that thing inside of me? Gah! Next time, I am going to pay more careful attention to it… That is, if I’m not squirming under him and don’t have my eyes shut in ecstasy and in agony and—my sneakers catch in a crack in the pavement and I tumble forward.
A strong pair of hands grips me, "Whoa, there."
I straighten, lift my head to glance into a pair of bright eyes. Tanned skin, teeth flashing against firm lips.
"Hello?" He tilts his head and his dreadlocks dance around him.
He releases me, steps back, "You okay?"
"Y…yes. Thanks. " I grab my backpack, tuck the strap under my arm. "I must be the only woman in this city who loses her footing despite not wearing heels, huh?"
"You were lost in thought." He raises his shoulders, "It happens."
He retreats, then walks around an upturned hat and sinks down onto a makeshift seat that seems to be made out of newspapers. Huh?
"Next time, keep your eyes on the goal."
"Goal?"
"The task at hand; don’t let go of the big picture."
"Big picture?"
"Like I do." He snatches up a board that had been facedown and waves it in my direction.
What care I for the wreaths that can only give glory?
"Byron?" I turn to him, "Why Byron?"
"Why not?"
I scowl, "A privileged full-of-himself, opinionated twat."
"That he was."
"You agree?" I tilt my head.
"Sometimes, you have to separate the words from the man."
I stare, "You’ve lost me."
"Don’t disregard the words because of the man he was. If you separate what someone’s saying from what they’ve made of themself? Well, the words take on a different meaning." He nods towards the prose, "Get me?"
"I’m not sure." I shuffle my feet, "Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to tell me something?"
"Me?" He places the board back on the ground, "Not at all. How is it my place to tell you how to differentiate right from wrong? Truth from fiction?"
"Who else but you can point that out?" I look at him, then at The Shard that towers over us, "With your vantage point of all the comings and goings around here, who better than you to tell me the things that I can’t see from where I am?"
