Chelsea returns, wheeling a silver cart with an array of decadent food, along with a bottle of Dom Pérignon chilling on ice. She places a platter of cheese, fruit, and nuts on the table. I bite the inside of my cheek to conceal my smirk; I was laid bare on this table only a few short moments ago. Chelsea pours each of us a glass of champagne and turns to leave, but not before looking me dead in the eye, astutely avoiding my nakedness. An unspoken conversation flies between us. There’s no need for words.
You lucky bitch. Enjoy it.
Oh, I intend to.
She offers me a slight smile and slips out of the dining room without even a glance at Dameon. I chuckle at our strange encounter. It seems we’ve reached some sort of truce. An agreement, if you will.
“What was that about?” Dameon’s head is lowered, fingers tapping away at his phone.
Geez, this man doesn’t miss a thing.
“Nothing much.” I shrug.
He looks up, raising an eyebrow.
“Apparently, Chelsea and I are now friends,” I explain, widening my eyes.
He shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips.
I take a sip of fizz and sink into the plush high-back chair. My face is still flushed and I’m sweating like a pig, but I could easily get used to this high-flying lifestyle with its multiple orgasms and French champagne.
I make a small plate of food, piling it high with cheese, crackers, and strawberries. Honestly, what’s the point of these tiny-ass plates? You can only fit two, maybe three pieces at most.
Dameon snorts, eyeing my towering plate.
“What? She should have brought bigger plates,” I defend.
“You love your food, don’t you?”
“I’m not exactly a salad girl.”
“Duly noted. I’ll keep that in mind for the future.” The corner of his lips tilts up.
Gosh, I want to taste those lips, just like Chelsea did. I tear my eyes away from his mouth and focus on my food, savoring the burst of flavor on my tongue as I bite into a strawberry.
“Can I ask you something, sir?” I say.
I look up to find his eyes still locked on me, watching me eat.
“Go ahead,” he gestures with his hand.
“When will you contact the transplant board?”
“I already did this morning. Beth has been moved to the top of the list. You should receive an email with confirmation shortly. She’ll receive a new heart as soon as there’s a compatible match.”
Relief floods my body, and I sag back into my chair. The fact that he took care of this before I even stepped foot on his plane or signed the agreement is not lost on me.
“Thank you,” I whisper, emotion thick in my voice.
“You’re welcome.” He dips his head and picks up his phone, returning to his work.
I swallow roughly as the deal with Mark flits through my mind. Guilt begins to creep in and I finish the rest of my plate in silence, contemplating the kind of man Dameon is.
He’s successful, wealthy, attractive, kind, and eats pussy like a champ. How is he still single? I don’t really buy his excuse that he can’t find a woman who likes to be dominated and shares his kinks. Undoubtedly, it makes finding the right person harder, but with more than six million people in Sydney and eight million in New York, it’s hardly impossible. Convenience and privacy surely can’t be the only reasons he visits Eden.
“You’re staring, Hailee,” he remarks without lifting his head from his phone.
Shit.
