Page 4 of Enchant Me

“Damien…” I draw in a breath as he pulls his hand free of mine.

“I’m fine,” he says, in the cool and controlled corporate voice that I’ve heard him use whenever a meeting isn’t going exactly as he’d planned. “This is an inconvenience. An irritation. But it’s not an immediate problem, and I won’t let it interfere with your day,” he adds fiercely, his gaze hard on Evelyn.

She starts to respond, but he silences her by raising a single finger. “I mean it. Enjoy your girl time. And you,” he adds to me, “stay here and don’t worry about me.” He cuts off my protest with a kiss, then pulls Evelyn into a hug. I hear him whisper, “Don’t let this mar your day,” and then he’s gone, leaving me and Evelyn staring at each other in horror and bewilderment.

I draw in a breath, then shake my head. I want so badly to ask, but Damien’s right. This is Evelyn’s day, and I won’t let some random asshole fuck with it. “Let’s get down to the guest room and get you in your dress. You’ll want to be in it before Carina gets here so you don’t smear.”

She waves my words away. “I’m not wearing white, and I’m not wearing fancy. It may be the dress I’m getting married in, but it’s not my wedding dress. We have time to talk, Texas, and it won’t ruin my wedding day if you need to do that.” She moves to sit on the small chaise that highlights one wall of our bedroom, immediately beneath the painting Damien bought a few years ago. An erotic image that captured my attention that first night at Evelyn’s house.

I know Evelyn well enough to know that she means what she says about taking time to talk; she wouldn’t have offered otherwise. And the truth is, I’m grateful for the offer. Damien might have made a show of brushing the whole thing off, but I know better. Evelyn, I’m sure, does, too.

“Show me the pictures,” I finally say, taking a seat beside her. I don’t want to see them—if they were enough to upset Damien, I know they must be worse than the photos he released himself right before we got engaged. But at the same time, I have to know.

For a moment, I think Evelyn will argue. But then she taps her phone to bring up the images. She grimaces, then puts the phone in my hand, the screen pressed against my palm, and her own hand holding it in place.

“Be sure, Texas. Be sure you want to see this. To see him like that. You can’t unsee it, and to be honest, that wasn’t bad advice he just gave both of us. You can comfort the boy without ever taking a peek. And you can go do that right now. As much as I love your company, I’ve been dressing myself for about sixty years now. I can handle today, too. Especially since that boy needs you.”

I fight a smile. “I know. And I will go to him. But you already knew that.”

The corners of her eyes crinkle with her smile. “I did, Texas. That’s why you two are so good together.”

I swallow. We are good together, but part of that is because after a rocky start, we truly don’t have secrets between us. Not the kind that matter, anyway. Not the kind that fester and hurt. “I have to see,” I tell her. “I don’t want to, but I need to know. I need to understand.” Whatever is in that text has already clawed its way into Damien. The only question now is whether I have the power to help him heal.

She grimaces. “I know. You need to see it, and he needs you. And, honestly, I came up here to tell you both the damn thing existed. I didn’t think the fucker had sent Damien the same despicable text.” She frowns. “At least I assume he sent the same text. He or she, that is.”

“So let me see.” I look down pointedly to where her hand covers my palm.

She exhales heavily, but lifts her hand, then flips the phone over. The screen is unlocked, and I glance down, then wish that I hadn’t. I don’t need to see this, and yet at the same time I do. It’s a video, and not one I’ve seen before. Something Damien held back when he released the Richter photos, I think, then immediately change my mind. Damien’s never seen this before. That’s part of why he looked so wrecked moments ago.

The video is long—almost five minutes—and there are eight stills from the video, too. And each shows in graphic, frozen detail Damien and Sofia having intercourse in front of the camera when neither one of them was older than fourteen, him with a cock ring and with her wrists bound to the headboard.

I feel queasy, but force myself to watch to the end. I see Damien mouth, I’m sorry. I see the tears in Sofia’s eyes. And all I want to do is hurl that despicable phone across the room and watch it shatter.

Instead, I read the message.

I know what he did. I know how fucked up he is. I won’t let him get away with it. Take responsibility, or I’ll share this with the world.

“He?” I whisper, my stomach queasy. “They mean Richter, right? He’s the one who’s fucked up.”

“Richter’s dead,” Evelyn says gently. “You know that’s not who they mean.”

I swallow. She’s right. I know exactly what this means. Someone wants to release this. To embarrass Damien—or worse.

Evelyn takes the phone back, deliberately closing the app and making the screen go dark. “Whoever’s doing this hasn’t released the video or the stills yet, but they might. They haven’t said how Damien is supposed to ‘take responsibility,’ which probably means a blackmail note will follow. In the meantime, I’ve already contacted Charles. These images show minors and there’s no consent for release.”

Charles Maynard is Damien’s long-time attorney, and I assume he’s putting some sort of injunction in place. The photos that Damien released to the press have been aired all over, but I also remember that they were blurred, presumably because of both the content and Damien and Sofia’s ages.

“I thought all of this was behind us.” The drama with Sofia had twisted and twined through my relationship with Damien. She was his childhood friend despite what her father had made them do, or perhaps because of it. The trauma of their past had screwed them both up, but Damien had managed to channel his pain and fear and anger into tennis and then into his work. Sofia had gotten twisted up in it. Their past had messed her up mentally, so much so that if she weren’t dead, she’d be at the top of my suspect list.

But, of course, she’s not behind this new version of hell, and that leaves me floundering, wondering not only who knows this horrific truth, but who would drag it out of the dark simply to torment Damien.

And on this day, too.

“I’m so sorry,” I tell Evelyn. “Whoever is behind this is fucking with Damien, but this is against you, too. It’s coming on your wedding day, and I can’t believe that whoever sent this doesn’t know that you represent Damien.”

“I don’t just rep him, Texas. He’s family. Always has been, and even more so after today. You are, too. Come here, honey,” she adds, hooking an arm around my shoulders and pulling me close.

It’s only then that I realize I’m crying. “I thought we were past this,” I say again, my throat thick with tears.