“What?” Terrified that he’d somehow made a mistake, Matthew checked Nadja’s messages. The conversation had unfolded exactly as he remembered it had, down to the part about breaking Damien’s heart. “How is that possible? Nadja told me there was big trouble. I just reread the conversation—I didn’t misunderstand.”
Damien lifted his head. His eyes were dead and distant, and Matthew couldn’t help but wince. Was Nadja right? Was Matthew really killing him?
“Can I see your messages, baby boy?” Damien asked. He held out a hand palm up, leaving Matthew the option to give him the phone or not.
“I…” Matthew paused. If he gave Damien access to his texts, Damien would see the hurtful things that Nadja had said about their relationship. As horrible as those texts had made him feel, Matthew had been prepared to keep them to himself. Damien had already been assaulted by a man he considered his friend and been told—whether erroneously or not—that he was in deep shit at work. Burdening Damien with yet another problem felt cruel. “I, um… I just… there’s some personal stuff in the texts.”
“Personal stuff?” Damien hitched an eyebrow, but his expression lacked enthusiasm. “Sweet boy, what in the world are you talking about? Nadja texted you for the first time today about a work emergency, didn’t she?”
“Yeah.” When Damien put it that way, the situation did seem bizarre. Matthew swallowed the uncomfortable lump rising in his throat and handed his phone to Damien. The beginning of his message history with Nadja was loaded on the screen. “Is it normal for her to be really, um… inappropriate?”
Damien took the phone but didn’t immediately read the exchange—he spent a moment looking Matthew over instead, clearly worried. “Inappropriate?”
“Like… weirdly sexual.” Matthew crossed his arms over his chest and rubbed the back of his foot against his calf. “I thought I was being too sensitive, but then at the end of the conversation she said something that really set me off. I had to block her. I’m sorry.”
“You blocked Nadja?” Damien furrowed his brow and lowered his gaze to the screen. “That doesn’t really…” Each word came out progressively slower until Damien ground to a stop. The worry lines on his forehead deepened. “What the hell?”
“I don’t know why she’d treat me like that.” Matthew dropped his chin. Why was he perpetually the bearer of bad news? “I know this is the last thing you need on top of the situation with my dad and what’s going on with work, but… but I mean if your personal assistant is going to act this way, maybe it’s better that you know.”
Damien thumbed the screen. His lips thinned. “This doesn’t sound like Nadja. It almost feels like someone is—” He stopped and narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck is this bullshit? You’re ‘killing’ me? You’ll ‘save my life’ by breaking my heart? That’s the kind of angst-ridden stunt they’d pull in a soap opera. Who the fuck says something like that in real life?”
Nadja, apparently.
“It says that you blocked her.” The life had returned to Damien’s eyes. While he spoke, he tapped on the screen, no doubt navigating through Matthew’s settings. “Do you mind if I unblock her so I can send a few messages? She’s not usually like this.”
“Sure.”
Damien tapped the screen a few more times, then froze. He glanced at Matthew, then looked back at the screen and gritted his teeth. “That fuckingbastard.”
“Damien?”
“This isn’t Nadja,” Damien snarled. “It’s a fucking 212 area code.”
“Which is New York, isn’t it?” Matthew sank onto the bed and tugged the blanket over his shoulders, feeling exposed and vulnerable. “I looked it up after you put your number in my phone when we were in Fiji. What if Nadja got a new number and that’s the reason none of her messages are going through?”
“The only way someone gets a 212 number these days is by buying it from a reseller for stupid amounts of cash.” Damien’s hands shook with rage. “And this number in particular? Fuck. There’s no way in hell Nadja shelled out the thousands of dollars it’d cost to buy a number ending in double zero.”
“Who is it, then?” Matthew paled. “I haven’t told anyone about us. Have you?”
“No.” Cold fury burned in Damien’s eyes. He set Matthew’s phone down and took out his own. “There are plenty of asswipes shitty enough to steal my information and impersonate my PA, but only one that I can think of who’d have a 212 area code. I swear to god, I’m going to fucking kill him.”
“Who?”
Damien pushed the word from between his teeth with fuming vehemence. “Bankes.”
31
Damien
You fucking ASSWIPE
Oh, a 212 number. Judging by the crude language, it must be none other than Mr. Damien Bigg… or should I call you Daddy?
Shut the fuck up.
Such a temper! So testy.
I’m suing your ass
