Rolling her eyes, she says, “Probably a lie. I mean, it’s a typical guy excuse. If I had a dollar for every time a guy used that line on me…” Then, she frowns as she picks at the corner of her napkin. “I dunno, Vi. Something definitely feelsoffwith this dude.”
I breathe out a sigh of relief at the fact that I’m not the only one who feels that way about this whole situation. I thought maybe I was overreacting. I mean, it’s not like I have any dating experience to compare this to. Damon has been throwing me so many mixed signals that I can’t make heads or tails of it all.
Sophie has lived a normal life with normal relationships, so I trust she can help me out with these things. And if she’s getting a bad vibe, then maybe I should take a step back and reevaluate what’s happening between Damon and me.
“What do you think I should do, Soph?” I ask.
“If it were me, I would have told him not to let the door hit in him in the ass on his way out last night,” she says with a shrewd grin. “But since that’s already over and done with, I would just ignore his calls and texts for a while. If he’s smart, he’ll figure out that he fucked up.” She waves a cookie towards me as she says, “And if he really likes you, he’ll try to win you back. And if he doesn’t, he’ll just see it as an easy way out for him and he won’t come back.”
I swallow hard, digesting her words. The thought of not seeing Damon again hurts, but it wouldn’t kill me. I could move on with my life if he’s not willing to make this work.
If we’re meant to be together, something will bring us back together. I believe that wholeheartedly.
Maybe cooling things off for a while would be the best thing for us right now.
And so, when a text flashes on my cell phone later that day asking me about Saturday night, I lie and tell Damon I already have plans for the weekend that I can’t break.
And when he sends me another text that night, I ignore it completely.
Damon hurt me last night.
So now it’s my turn to return the favor.
CHAPTER 16
DAMON
I FUCKED UP.
I fucked up, and I’m losing her. I can feel it deep down inside of my bones.
She’s slowly pulling away from me, ignoring my texts and calls whereas before she would return them immediately or always pick up when I called.
I drum my fingers on the top of my oak coffee table, frustration leaking from every pore in my body.
I shouldn’t have left that night after taking her virginity. But the thought of staying and holding her all night was too much to bear. It would have changed me, and I can’t have anything between us clouding my judgment.
I have to be able to pull the trigger when the time comes. I can’t second-guess myself or pause in any way. And if I start falling in love with her, it will ruin everything.
Now my entire plan is on hold because of one mistake.
I’m getting impatient.
I’m getting desperate.
And desperate men go to desperate measures to get what they want.
My cell phone rings. And when I see the strange number come up on the caller ID, I know it’s Baz. I answer on the third ring.
“Word on the street is that Nolan Farrell’s youngest son is dead.”
I narrow my eyes. “And I care about this because…?”
“Because they’re saying Giorgio Ciccone is responsible.”
“Fuck,” I hiss in frustration. As if Ciccone didn’t have enough enemies before, now he has to add the goddamn Irish Mafia to the list. “What do you think is going to happen?”
“Not sure. Farrell is definitely going to strike. I just don’t know when or how.”
