Page 124 of Marrying the Billionaire Single Dad

"So?" He turns that blue gaze on me, "What do you recommend?"

"I recommend that we go ahead with the wedding, as planned—"

"No."

"Then we invite the guests up here instead?"

"Hmm. Let me think." He taps a finger against his cheek, gazes into the distance, "Not happening."

"What?" Isla gasps.

"No," I protest. "Don’t do this. It will, likely, destroy your career."

"Which I stopped giving a fuck about a long time ago."

And I should too…but apparently, I can’t. This man. He’s too bloody talented to hide away from the world, and somehow, now that I know his secret... Not that it means I have any power over him... In fact, quite the opposite... I feel like I am responsible, somehow, for making sure he shares his talent again with the world… Hence, when he’d suggested inviting the press and the guests to the wedding, I had gone along…

All of this was his plan, and now he doesn’t want to go through with it, settling instead, for a more intimate affair, which honestly, is what I prefer too… But the backlash from the press and the guests who, I am sure, would only be too happy to spread more rumors about Damian’s downfall… And which bothers me more… And which—

Hold on! Why the hell am I so upset about it, somehow, while this man…? He stands there watching me watch Isla have a nervous breakdown?

I lean up on tip-toe and tug at his sleeve. He lowers his head. "Please," I whisper, "for Isla’s sake. Let’s, at least, invite the guests up."

"For Isla’s sake?"

"Yeah."

"So. It’s another favor."

"Actually, you’re doing yourself a favor by agreeing to have them here—”

"Then, no." He straightens.

"What?"

"You heard me."

I open and shut my mouth, curl my fists at my sides, then mutter, "Fine, fine, it’s a favor to me.”

"To be repaid in full, as I want, when I want, how I want…?" He leans in closer, "In whatever form I want?"

I swallow, hesitate.

He turns to me, places his palms on my shoulder.

"Agree now, or forever hold your peace." He meets my gaze, "Well?"

40

Damian

Yes, it’s a dick move—me arguing with her when she’s trying so hard to save this shamble of a ceremony that I don’t give a fuck about… And yes, it had been my idea to invite the press and the guests… Nothing like giving them a ringside view to my downfall, huh? After all, that’s what I do best, right? Allow the world to sit centerstage as I detonate before them.

So why the hell is she so hellbent on saving my career? My reputation. As if she cares? Is it the money? The opportunity to rub shoulders with fame? Perhaps the chance to take credit for resurrecting a rock legend… More like a rolling stone that had gathered too much moss, excuse the sorry pun. And while we’re at it, also excuse me for not being more trusting for how she begs me to go through with this sham of a wedding. One she’d initiated, by the way, so why the hell should I comply with what she has in mind? Unless… Well… I can use the situation to my own advantage, which you bet I am going to do.

"What is it to be, then?" I rake my gaze over her features. "Tell me, Julia. Yes or no? Are you in or out?"

She draws in a breath and her lips tremble. She glances around the room, no doubt, takes in the expressions of the rest of the Seven—whose opinions matter, of course, but not as much as she thinks. They’re my friends, my brothers in arms, but none of them have been through what I have. To have bounced back from the incident only to have my soul shattered all over again? Well, let them try to recover from losing a part of themselves as I had. I guarantee they wouldn’t have made it as far as I have. Which isn’t saying a lot, considering I’ve managed to screw up my life completely. And even now, when I should be thanking my good fortune that she came along, here I am, screwing it all up, all over again, and I can’t stop myself.