Page 98 of Filthy and the Beast

He half-smiles. “Good. Really good, actually. Maybe I’ll tell you more about it. But, um, I kind of need to talk to you about something first. Is now an okay time?”

“Yeah. I want to talk to you, too.”

I force a smile, but my blood runs cold.

His stuff is gone. He’s leaving me.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I messed it up, and now I’m going to lose him.

Taking my hand, Damian pulls me back from the edge of my panic. He walks us into the living room and sits on the couch. I slowly sit beside him, but my eyes stay fixed on the spot where his vase was.

“Your flowers are gone,” I say.

“Yeah. I just grabbed some of my stuff.”

My heart racing, I stand up. “You’re leaving,” I blurt out.

Damian stands, too. “Enzo, no. It’s not like that.”

“Fuck. You’re leaving.”

Of course. I’m a loner. Why wouldn’t he go? Staying with me in the first place was weird. He’s young and cute and happy, and I’m me.

“Enzo,” he says more firmly. “Listen to me. That’s not what I’m saying.”

Blood rushing in my ears, I look at him. “Okay. What are you saying?”

He swallows, staring up at the ceiling. “We have to talk about some things, and you’re not going to like all of it. But the truth is that when I spent the night in your room, I saw a piece of paper. I didn’t mean to snoop, and I’m sorry this happened. But I saw an advertisement for a fight that’s coming up. You and a cage fighter.”

“You what?” A chill goes down my spine, and a panicked, defensive reaction takes hold. “What the fuck? You weren’t supposed to see that!”

The words come out loud. I’m barking. Shit, I think I’m yelling at Damian. But the shame is too much to handle.

I grab my forehead, squeezing hard. “Fuck! That’s not me! I hate that fucking ad and that fight and everything about it.”

“Hey!” Damian stomps his foot. “Listen to me.”

Seeing the tears in his eyes, my heart breaks.

“I saw the ad,” Damian says, “and I apologized. But you need to let me finish.”

“Okay,” I manage, my heart thudding.

Damian takes a deep breath. “Are you fighting in that match? And have you been hiding it from me?”

“I… I don’t know,” I stutter out.

He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t know?”

My brain races. I try to think of how to explain, but though I'm ashamed, there’s no way around the truth. “We haven’t signed. I keep changing my mind, and I don’t want to do it. But yes. I’ve been arranging that match, and I’ve been keeping it a secret from you.”

He doesn’t say anything. Probably considering walking out the door now.

Regret twists me from inside. Wish I could go back and tell him the truth weeks ago, but it’s too late. And I know Damian well enough; he doesn’t want or need excuses. He just wants me to be honest with him, and I’ve failed, along with everything else.

Fuck. What if I can’t fix this?

Finally, Damian sighs. “Thank you for answering clearly. I appreciate it.”

---