Page 46 of Scorned Queen

“We don’t know, Alana,” he bites out, his hands settling on his hips.

“You think they’re having an affair?My mother does not like your father.She calls him arrogant.”

“You call me arrogant,” he reminds me.

“You are arrogant, Damion West.”

“And yet you’re out with me tonight.”

“Asa friend.”

“Right,” he bites out.“As a friend.”He scrubs his jaw and then offers me a view of his broad shoulders as he walks away.

I blink after him, stunned for a few beats, before I catch up with him, confusion setting my thoughts into a spin.“Why are you angry at me?”

“I’m not angry at you, Alana,” he snaps, but he doesn’t look at me.

I catch his arm, and he halts, piercing me with sharp eyes.“What are you trying to do right now?”

“What do you mean?”I whisper, that confusion leaving me unsteady.

“What do you think touching me achieves?”

“What?Are you thinking someone will think we’re together?”

“Everyone but us thinks we’re together, Alana.Wake up.”He starts walking again.

I double-step and catch up to him again, but I don’t speak this time, and I certainly don’t touch him.The three-block walk was the most uncomfortable few minutes I’ve ever shared with Damion that didn’t involve one of his girlfriends, none of who thought me and Damion were together.I want to say that, but it just doesn’t feel right.

When we finally arrive at my house, he rotates to face me.“Do not bring up seeing them together.It’s our secret.Understand?”

“Understand?”I ask incredulously.“Don’t talk to me like that.”

He grabs my arm and pulls me close—so very close that I can smell him and feel his hard body.“Our secret, Alana.”

My body tingles with the way our thighs touch, with the impact of this intimacy after hours of being alone with him, wishing he’d kiss me, knowing it would be wrong.

“Say it,” he presses.

“Our secret,” I agree.

He studies me several beats, seeming to weigh my commitment to that vow, before he sets me away from him.“I need to go before I do something we both regret.”He rotates on his heels and leaves me standing on my front lawn.

I blink back to the present just as the elevator doors open on our floor, and there is acid bubbling in my belly.The history between me and Damion is a river that runs wild and deep.What if my mother’s history with his father runs just as wild and deep?What if every tear she has shed in front of me was all a show?What if she wants to be with Damion’s father?

What else would she do for that man?

The problem is, I have no answer.I don’t even know who she is anymore.

Adam steps out of the car, checks the hallway, and then motions for me and Damion to follow, only to point to a spot beside the door where he intends for us to wait.The very idea that we have to be concerned about someone waiting on us inside turns the warmth of moments before into discomfort.What do they know that I do not?Damion’s behind me now, his hands on my shoulders as he turns me to face him.

“Relax, baby.He’s just being vigilant.”

“What don’t I know, Damion?”

“My father as well as I do.”

I think of his reaction in the diner that night, so many years ago.He knows his father.He knew what was happening between him and my mother wasn’t innocent.A chill runs down my spine as I think of those flowers that we have yet to talk about and the card attached:What I give, I can take away.

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