Luke stands, sending the stool he was sitting on flying back in the process.
The grip on my heart loosens slightly at the sight of him running his hands through his unruly hair, eyes set on my phone, probably ready to snap it in two.
But what neither Luke nor Damien are aware of is the overwhelming sense of power that is coursing through my veins the longer I hear Damien speak.
Because I’ve played every possible scenario of this very conversation in my head repeatedly since the moment I ran from that church without a backward glance. And every scenario ended with me feeling like a pile of crap while curled up on the floor crying.
I never could have anticipated the venom coming from the man I had foolishly convinced myself I could be happily married to.
Couldn’t have fathomed my father having a hand in orchestrating my obedience for political gain.
And as I stare at the man standing before me, looking like he’s ready to burn every inch of the world that dared to harm me, I do the unthinkable at a time like this.
I laugh.
The action has Luke stilling before me, head tilted in confusion. Damien’s cut off from wherever I left him in his unnecessary rant.
“Something funny, wifey?” Damien sneers.
“I’m not your wife, and I never will be. So call off your dogs and get your story straight. And by story, I’m referring to a little thing most humans with a soul call the truth. You were left at the altar. We are no longer getting married. And if you’re feeling extra charitable, tell the people of New York that you’re also a lying piece of shit. But feel free to run the wording by your chief of staff.”
Damien is scoffing in my ear, at a complete loss for words. But I’m too focused on the sexy-as-fuck grin on Luke’s face.
He places his hands on the island, bracketing me in his arms without touching me.
“Hang up,” he mouths.
“Not yet. I’m having too much fun now,” I mouth back, swinging my legs back and forth.
“You’re out of your depth, Daisy,” Damien says, his voice much less confident than when we started our call. “There will be repercussions for your actions. This is larger than you and me. There are powerful people backing me to ensure that I’m in that governor’s mansion after this election. Now is not the time to throw a damn tantrum. And if you think you can take me down,don’t expect to come out of this unscathed. Your big brother isn’t the only one with connections. Do you really think I can’t have you painted out as the villain in this story? It’s so easy to pit women against one another. How long do you think until the internet trolls are out for your blood, Daisy? Hmm?” he spits.
My confidence starts to waver. I know how vicious social media can be. It nearly sent my friend Isabella into hiding for a few years to escape the worst of it.
But the alternative? Marrying Damien and standing by his side for the rest of my days, or at least as long as he deems me helpful to his image?
Absolutely not.
I hum and decide to go for the jugular instead. “Ah, yes. Go ahead, Damien. And tell me again how the optics of a white man in power going after his Latino vote—my apologies—Latina fiancée and trying to dismantle her impeccable reputation is going to go for you and the liberal voters you’ve tried your hardest to convince you’re one of?”
“You fucking bitch!” He all but screams into my ear.
Luke tries to take the phone, mouth already open, but I easily dodge it, leaning my head on his shoulder, my satisfied gaze clashing with his ruthless one.
I click my tongue. “Yeah. Well, it’s a good thing I like the ring of ‘bitch’ much better than Mrs. Fischer anyway. Have a good life, Damien. Or don’t. Needless to say, I won’t be voting for you. Goodbye.”
I hang up and drop the phone to my lap and release the biggest breath known to man, landing in Luke’s warm embrace in the process.
He speaks into my curly hair. “Daisy, I am so fucking proud of you. You—you… God, I think I’m speechless.”
I chuckle into his chest. “You’ve never been accused of being a man of many words.”
He pinches my side, and I erupt into a fit of giggles as he continues his merciless assault.
I manage to slide off the kitchen island and escape, putting a hand up between us before he attempts to come at me again while I catch my breath, walking backward toward the living room.
“Hold on. I need to make one more phone call before my life potentially goes up in flames.”
Luke cocks his head. “Your father? Am I getting a front-row seat to that verbal lashing as well?” He rubs a hand over his chest. “Not going to lie, Daisy. You telling your ex off… it was doing things for me.”
