Page 42 of Loss and Damages

Dominic

The sun’s buttery glow sneaks past Jemma’s window blinds, and the light kisses her face.

She’s beautiful, her dark hair in a tangle around her head, one hand tucked under her cheek.

Her skin is peaches and cream, her lips a lush red, still swollen from when I made love to her early this morning. She let me go bare.

I blow out a breath and brush a piece of hair off her cheek.

I want her to carry my babies, but this isn’t the way.

I’m being stupid and selfish, and I admit one of the reasons why I come inside her is because Leo never loved her that way, never claimed her as his.

He never woke up to her, never brought her coffee in bed as she drifted from sleep to wakefulness, blinking the sun out of her eyes.

Leo’s dead and everything is still a competition.

Even when there is none.

Like our mother’s love and attention. He’d already won, and so I chased my father’s, winning a prize Leo didn’t need or want.

I skim my fingers down Jemma’s shoulder and she moves a little closer but doesn’t wake up.

I want this. I want her, but there is so much standing in my way.

“Sweetheart, I have to drive into the city, but I have a few things I need to tell you first.”

I don’t want to tell her anything, but someone knows I’m in Hollow Lake, and I can’t keep her in the dark any longer.

Her ignorance could get her hurt, maybe even killed.

I’ll put a detail on her to keep her safe while I’m in the city, but Jemma lives a simple life and she won’t tolerate that for long.

She hums, molding her body to mine, her lips brushing over my hot skin.

My cock’s hard and wanting, and I could so easily grab a condom and bury myself inside her until I lose my mind.

I squeeze her ass, my throbbing cock pressed against her belly, but I won’t make love to her again until we’ve spoken, until I know how she feels about the things I’ve kept from her.

“Jemma,” I say, nudging her away.

She opens her eyes and searches my face. “You’re worried. About me?”

“I’m going to get dressed, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

Sitting up, she doesn’t cover herself, and her lush breasts and rosy nipples tempt me to stay in bed. “What is it?”

I kiss her forehead and say, “It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t sound like nothing.” She drags the sheet up to her throat.

“I’ll explain when we’re both dressed. Coffee, okay?”

“Yeah.”

I dress in the clothes I wore to the park, slacks and a button-down shirt I also wore to the office, so eager to drive out to Hollow Lake I didn’t stop to change.

She steps into the kitchen wearing a satin robe, the sash tied into a drooping bow, and she fastened her hair into a messy ponytail. Her eyes are full of caution now, a tense vibe filling her cottage. That’s my fault. That’s my guilt.

Leaning against the counter, she sips her coffee and waits expectantly. She’s always been a good listener and rather than think she’s setting me up to dig my own grave, I know she’s only giving me the space to say what I need to say.

I pour coffee and rest my arm on the breakfast bar.

Her kitchen isn’t large, but I’m as far away from her as I can be without stepping into her living room.

“Last night at the park, I made us leave because I saw a glint in the trees. A photographer was taking pictures. With the way things have been in the city, I don’t want you on the gossip sites.

I don’t want any attention on you at all, but I’ve already failed to keep you out of it. ”

“What do you mean?”

I force the words out of my mouth. “The break-in at your gallery was my fault. They followed me here and saw us together. They said I shouldn’t have bought the 1100 block and if I follow through with my plans to evict the tenants and tear down the buildings, they would do worse.”

“That’s why you left that night after we made love. The phone call.” Her voice is soft, and she’s staring at the floor, avoiding my gaze.

“Yes. They knew I was with you. I tried to stay away to keep you safe, but yesterday I gave in. I had to see you.”

Her head snaps up and her eyes flash. “Those assholes broke into my gallery and destroyed my china, Leo’s paintings, and the work of the other artists I sell because of the 1100 block?”

“I’m sorry, Jemma.”

“What about me? I was hurt. What about my family? Don’t you understand that what you’re doing isn’t affecting only you?

You have the money to protect yourself. You live in a tower that has bars on the windows and have bodyguards who will follow you everywhere you go.

” She slams her coffee cup onto the counter, sloshing the contents onto the granite.

“I don’t have that luxury, nor do my parents or my brother and his wife. Their little girl is only two.”

Tears shimmer in her eyes and I want to go to her, but my feet are cemented to the floor. She wouldn’t want me to touch her now.

“I’m sorry about your mother. I’m sorry about your father.

I’m sorry Leo’s dead. He never liked how you and your father took whatever you wanted without thinking about repercussions or consequences.

He hated that you wanted the 1100 block, but he had no way to tell you, no way to tell you that you’d listen to.

If you won’t listen to Leo, then listen to me.

I can’t be with a man whose business deals put me and my family in danger.

If your father’s forcing you to choose between him and me, then you should choose him.

It’s what you’ve worked for your entire life, and I don’t want you to throw that away. ”

Her blue eyes blaze like an electric current, tears running down her face. I know what it’s costing her to say the words, because I’m paying the same price.

My heart cracks. I never knew I had one until Jemma told me she loved me.

“I’m going to fix this.” I go to her then and hold her face in my trembling hands, risking her pushing me away.

“How? How can you undo what you’ve done? You bought the 1100 block, you’re buying up Oakdale Square. Now the homeless shelter is all but yours because even I know if you have enough money you can buy anything you want.”

“I can’t buy you. I can’t buy your love, and I want that most of all.”

She holds up her hands, the wounds the china cut into her delicate skin still healing. “They hurt me, Dominic. How do you fix that? How much money will fix that?”

I release her and step back, the coffee churning in my stomach. “I should never have driven out here yesterday. I gave in and exposed you to more danger. I’ll put eyes on you until this is over.”

“My family—”

“Will be protected. I can promise that because as you said, money can buy anything. Be well, Jemma. I love you more than I’ll ever be able to show you.”

I walk out her door before I fall to my knees and beg her to reconsider.

She was hurt because of me and who I am.

Leo spent a year with her, more, and not one thing threatened her life, her well-being, or that of her family’s.

She’s been a part of my life for barely a month and the inexcusable happened.

I’ll never be able to make that up to her.

I don’t have the strength left enough to try.

I take the long way around, doubling back and then doubling back again before heading to my penthouse. I shower and swallow a pain pill with more coffee. Leo’s paintings are still at the office, and I arrange to have them sent to my mother’s.

I haven’t opened the crate.

I haven’t allowed myself to think about Leo’s hobby.

Not hobby, passion. He had a passion he didn’t tell anyone about, and he fed that passion every day keeping company with another artist, talking about things I would have considered frivolous when Jemma thought them deep and meaningful.

She was raised to appreciate art, creativity, to find joy in flowers and bees and rainbows, and everything else I don’t have time for.

Leo saw that, was drawn to it, and as the months went on, they fed into each other.

I never stopped to consider how much she’s been missing him.

I don’t want to think it, don’t want to think that if given time their friendship could have grown into more.

The more I discover about Leo through Jemma, the more I know it would have happened, even if she says otherwise.

I don’t know what Leo was waiting for, but only a man without a pulse could deny Jemma indefinitely.

Missed calls, voicemails, and texts clog my phone, reporters wanting to know what I’m planning to do with the property I’ve been buying in Oakdale Square.

They want to know when the 1100 block evictions will start.

They want to know how I’m coping with Leo’s death.

For now, I’m lucky they don’t mention Jemma.

I was blind believing that because she lived in Hollow Lake it would keep her off their radars.

That wouldn’t have stopped them, and it didn’t.

It won’t be long before the photographer I caught at the park last night sells his photos.

I should have chased him down and paid him off, but all I could think about was getting Jemma home.

I need more manpower. I have Duncan digging into who broke into Jemma’s gallery when he should be doing other things like watching out for asshole photographers who want to earn a buck off my private life.

I order him to bring the car around and tell him I need to visit my mother.

Paparazzi will be crowding the front of the penthouse’s building, and me visiting her when our nonexistent relationship has been hot gossip for years will give them something else to talk about.