Ellie
When Damien walks into Spanky’s the next day, my entire body tenses. I force myself to take a slow, deep breath and keep my expression neutral.
He spots me the second he walks in and comes over to the small table in the back where I’m sitting alone.
When he sits down, he’s smirking.
“So you finally came to your senses.” He lets out a satisfied sigh.
“Something like that.”
He gazes around the dimly lit bar. “This place is an even bigger shithole than I remember.”
I frown. He’s been here before? I tuck that away for later. I need to focus on getting him to admit what he’s here for.
“You need to tell me what exactly you want, Damien.”
His smirk widens. “I’m surprised at how smart you’re playing this, Ellie. Smart enough to do this in person instead of text. That way, there’s no documentation, no way to prove this happened one way or the other. It’s a he-said she-said situation if either one of us feels like going to press with this.”
I clench my jaw at his belittling tone. How did I ever fall for this slimeball?
“I’m not going to the press,” I say.
He leans back in his chair, his posture relaxed. “I want twenty grand.”
I almost choke at his audacity. “That’s a big jump from the initial one thousand dollars you asked me for. That I didn’t even owe you in the first place.”
“Yeah, well, you’re in a different tax bracket now. You can afford it.”
I swallow back the urge to tell him off. “You should apologize to me first. For lying about Camden and me to the press.”
He rolls his eyes.
“You lied about us, Damien. You know you did. If you’re expecting me to give you thousands of dollars, you need to give me something in return.”
He lets out a bitter laugh. “Fine. I’m sorry I lied about you being dramatic about your illness. I know your chronic illness is legit. And I know you’re not a gold digger.”
A satisfied feeling swoops through me, but I don’t let it show on my face. I can’t give anything away. Not yet.
“How did you know why we even got married in the first place?” I ask. “Are you stalking me? I mean, you’re not smart enough to hack my phone.”
I don’t miss the way he purses his lips out of sheer annoyance. He doesn’t like me taunting him, giving him a hard time. He’s never liked that.
“I’m not stalking you,” he says, his tone irritated. “I saw you and your little redheaded friend walk in here the other week while I was across the street getting my hair cut. I followed you in here, planning to confront you. But then I overheard your conversation, and an even better idea popped in my head. Go to the media, get a payout. Go to you, get another payout.”
My blood simmers. This guy is a parasite. But he’s not going to get away with it.
“So you want twenty thousand dollars, and you won’t go to the press and tell lies about us anymore?
He nods. “Yup.”
Heart thrashing in my chest, I lean forward. “Too bad. Because I’m not giving you shit.”
He glowers at me. “What the hell are you talking about?”
A second later, Camden stands up from where he’s sitting, in the booth behind us. He holds up his phone, which has been recording our entire conversation.
“Got you on camera blackmailing my wife,” he says.
