The Empress: I was serious about you coming to work for me, you know.
Mimi: I’m okay, really.
The Empress: You are now, but what about the next time something like this happens?
Damien wished he could tell her that there wouldn’t be a next time, but he knew that was a lie. As long as Bankes was around, he would do whatever it took to gain the upper hand.
The Empress: Imagine me sighing heavily right now at your silence.
The Empress: Just promise me you’ll think about it, okay? I’m not sure I could swing getting you a position in any of my New York offices, but if you’re not working for Goldcorp, it doesn’t matter where you are, does it?
Mimi: Don’t get your hopes up
The Empress: Psh, as if.
The Empress: Anyway, if you’ve been up for even half as long as you said, you need to get home and get to bed. I’ll bug you about remembering Bigg Daddy’s birthday tomorrow.
Mimi: Shit, thanks.
The Empress: You can thank me by getting some sleep. Night, Mimi. Pleasant dreams
Mimi: Night
With the conversation over, there was nothing left to do but honor Catherine’s request. Damien eased out of his chair and left the Goldcorp Group building, snagging one of the taxis stationed outside its front doors. On his way back to his condo, Damien’s mind wandered to the sunny shores of Fiji and the boy he’d left behind. His heart twisted, its jagged fragments slicing each other to bits. If he had time tomorrow, he’d take another stab at that email to Gwynn—there wasn’t enough fight left in him to do it tonight.
Determined not to obsess over the wrongs he’d done and what he’d left behind, Damien opened the Single Dad chat, hoping for a distraction. There were no new messages, so he fired off one of his own.
KnotMyProblem: Hey. Miss you guys.
Unlike usual, there was no reply. All of them were having fun in Fiji together—no one was going to interrupt their good time to check their phones.
KnotMyProblem: Get extra drunk for me and cause some trouble. Don’t let the beach nightmares get you.
KnotMyProblem: Knot out!
Damien logged out and went to put his phone away, but hesitated. There was one more person he could reach out to—someone who was likely missing him.
It’s late here in New York, yet here I am, thinking of you a world away.
Nothing.
Damien put his phone away and spent the rest of the ride in contemplative silence. By the time he arrived back at his condo, set his phone to charge by the bedside, and slid beneath the sheets, there was a new message waiting.
Paradise isn’t all that fun without you here. Goodnight.
Damien sat on his bed, elbows dug into the tops of his thighs, and smiled like a fool at the message on the screen.
His boy. His good boy.
Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo.
19
Matthew
“Daddy!” The rustle of rapidly moving fabric and the slap of bare feet on the floor tile was Matthew’s only warning before something short and solid glommed onto his leg. It was his daughter, Emily. At least, he was fairly sure it was. The Emily he knew liked to spend all day in footie pajamas and considered the word “hairbrush” to be foul language, but this Emily was remarkably well put together. Her brown hair looked soft and tangle-free, and she wore the dress with the white collared bodice and blue floral skirt that had been a size too big for her to wear at Easter. Her new appearance would have had him fooled if she hadn’t followed it up by aggressively nuzzling his leg and proclaiming at hyper speeds, “Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy!”
“Hello to you, too, sweet pea.” Matthew ran a hand through her hair, then bent at the waist and scooped her into his arms. Emily squealed with delight and wasted no time locking her arms around his neck, cuddling up to his chest. Matthew kissed the top of her head. “I missed you.”
