Page 3 of Scorned Queen

I’ve learned that love is a complicated thing.It can both make us whole and shred us, and I fear with Damion, that’s the least of my worries.I believe—Iknow—he has the power to carve out my heart and leave me incapable of anything resembling a normal human being.He could easily break me, and I’m not sure I have the same power over him, and that’s a problem.A relationship has to be halves, two parts of one whole, and yet equal in who we are and what we are apart and together.

My show might erase my perceived deficiency in career and finances but Damion is why it even materialized.But on the other hand, he gave me an opportunity without guaranteed success.I’m the one who turned it into skyrocketing ratings.

Damion pulls me around in front of him.“I can hear you thinking.”

“I’m not surprised.You know me better than anyone on this Earth.”

“Then remember the same applies to you with me.”

“That’s why you picked me for your fake fiancée, right?”

His expression turns stormy.“You know we aren’t fake.”

“Just the ring?”

“Alana—”

It’s right then that the car is pulled up beside us.“We’ll talk at your apartment,” I say, and someone shoots a photo of me, and I have a piece of paper shoved at me.

“Can I get an autograph, Alana?”

I swallow hard and plant a smile on my lips before greeting the thirty-something woman and scribbling my name on what is actually a napkin, not a piece of paper.A full minute later, I’m warmed by her love of my show, and when she departs, Damion guides me to the car and opens the door.I quickly fold myself into the vehicle, the warm leather enveloping me; much like my love for Damion does every moment I’m with him, but that doesn’t make our ride one without turbulence and pain.The truth is, his father’s comments were poorly timed, just after the whole ring fiasco.It’s real and fake at the same time, which perfectly personifies us.

The entire exchange had cut deep while his father’s insults ground in the open wound.

When I would expect the door to shut, Damion kneels beside me, his expression earnest, his eyes troubled as they search my face.There are flutters in my belly with the intensity of his attention.“I’m okay,” I whisper as if he’s asked a question.

He catches my hand in his and murmurs something I cannot understand, and I’m not sure I’m even meant to understand before he whispers, “Alana,” and presses his lips to my knuckles.“I don’t believe you, but I’m going to fix it.And us.”

And then he’s gone, pushing to his feet, and shutting me inside the warm vehicle.

I’m still reeling from whatever that just was, when he climbs inside the driver’s side, claiming the captain’s seat, so to speak, the earthy scent of him consuming me.They say scent is part of what draws us to another human being.It’s a primal thing, beyond our understanding.I can believe that to be true between Damion and me.I’m drawn to him as a man in ways I am not to other men equally good-looking and successful.I have always been drawn to him.I’m not even certain when attraction and friendship became love.Probably very young, and while I didn’t understand my feelings back then, I appreciate them more with a little life under my belt.I’ve learned that a real connection is hard to find.

Damion and I have one.

It’s simply failed to lead to a happily ever after between us.

I’m not sure it ever will, and maybe on some deep, instinctual level, I knew it never would, and that’s why I insisted so intently on maintaining our friendship.But we’ve gone beyond that now, and there’s no turning back.

Chapter four

Iblinkandweare on the road, the dark night enveloping us, the passing streetlights flickering through the shadows, tracing the handsome lines of Damion’s face.I stare at him, transfixed by his male beauty, and I don’t know how one person can cast a spell on another that seems to last an eternity, but isn’t that in some ways the definition of happily ever after?

The music permeates my thoughts, an instrumental that needs no words to seduce the listener.“Come Get Her” by Andrew Savoia, has been all over the charts as of late, and I tell myself Damion has done just that.He’s come for me.He sought me out.He made my show happen.My finger caresses the engagement ring, and I’m transported back to a day years before.

I’d been seventeen, and obviously Damion not much older, and he’d been forced to attend a wedding at one of his parents’ Hampton estates.He’d dreaded the event and begged me to go with him, claiming I’d make it bearable.We’d done that a lot for each other through our teens, always acting as each other’s support source.

I shut my eyes and sink deeper into the memory, one not so unlike tonight in many ways.

Damion and I stand next to an ice sculpture, under some outdoor covering overlooking the ocean, the salty taste in my mouth well doused as I eat icing off his plate.“How do you eat all that sugar?”he asks.

“How do you not?”I point my fork at him.“That’s the real question.”

An announcement sounds, and we’re all told to claim a seat, for some special dessert.Yes, we had cake before dessert.It’s a little weird, but I often don’t understand the logic of rich people.

Damion grabs both our plates and sets them on a tray before he catches my hand, leading me toward a table.My palm tingles with the connection.Okay, my entire body tingles with the connection.I know he doesn’t think twice about holding my hand—we’re best friends—but the girl in me struggles with all the feels it gives me.

Fortunately, the table he’s chosen is empty, and we tilt our heads close as I ask, “Who’s the bride again?”

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