Page 39 of Marrying the Billionaire Single Dad

Turning, he stalks off again.

"Damian," I call out after him, "I know you didn’t mean that earlier insult."

He reaches the door to the greenhouse.

I wipe the sweat from my face, and scramble to my feet. "This isn’t over, not by a long shot. You’re not the complete jerk hole you make yourself out to be, you know. You messed with the wrong woman though. I am going to get to the bottom of your secrets. I won’t stop until I bring you to your knees," I yell.

He throws open the door. A gust of cool breeze wafts in and goosebumps pop on my skin. I shiver, wrap my hands around my waist.

"Knock yourself out, sweets," he drawls, then surveys me over his shoulder. "Just make sure you’re not wearing panties."

11

Damian

You’ll do nicely?What the hell was that about? What had I been thinking when I’d tossed out those words? Not to mention, that speech about her being a challenge?

I had been as cruel as fuck. No wonder she’d been so furious. Flower has a temper, all right…and a fighting spirit…not to mention, impressive negotiation skills. That back and forth there, I hadn't expected. It had been oddly stimulating too. Pitting my wits against hers had made me feel alive in a way I hadn't felt for months. I want to revel in her vitality, draw on it, imbibe it and allow it to fan the flames of something that has died inside of me.

Doesn’t forgive the fact that I hurt her.

A half hour after I’d left her, I’d glanced out the window and seen her drive off. Thankfully, she’d given herself time to cool off before leaving. Good. No way, did I want her distracted while driving. It’s the only reason I’ve put my people on her. They’ll keep her safe… And ensure if she meets anyone else that I’ll be the first to know.

I am protecting my investment, that’s all. Hey, it is an agreement that we came to, and I intend to honor every part of mine. By the time we come to the new year, she’ll be rich and I’ll be… Well, hopefully, I’ll have managed to write enough songs to fill an album.

I glare at my reflection in the mirror of the rundown dressing room of the gym in central London owned by Jace. A close friend of the Seven, he and his wife Sienna had moved to London from LA when Sienna was pregnant, partly so they could be close to Sienna’s sister Bella who is studying in the city.

He was the first to fall for the family trap, followed closely by Sinclair, then Saint and Weston. Shit is going down fast and I don’t plan to be part of that particular train. Nope. I have more than enough on my plate, trying to resurrect my career…and taking care of my daughter. Maybe it’s stupid that I insist on being a hands-on parent, but I am determined to make up for the time I lost with her. I am going to ensure that Riley will never feel the absence of her mother. Speaking of, I glance up at the clock on the wall.

I have half an hour to work out, before I leave for my six pm with one sexy, hot-as-fuck woman who owes me a few orgasms—or is it the other way around? I chuckle. The look on her face when I had left her earlier…Clearly, she had been turned on and frustrated as hell. Good. That’s how I felt too, after all. Though, the lack of fulfillment had clearly sparked me to write, which is a bloody good sign, considering I’ve been blocked for nearly six months.

Six months since I have composed anything worth stringing into a tune… Six months since I have picked up my guitar… Then, one encounter with her, seeing her writhe under me, spanking her arse as I had brought her to the edge, had seemed to break something inside of me… Or rather, break through the fog I had been mired in, enough to spark the beginning of a song… Something… The first inkling of a star in the night sky, the first scent of bread baking in the oven, the heady sensation of a child’s first kick in the womb, hinting at the promise of a new life. Holy shit. I blink, then grab for my phone and key in the words. This is good, bloody good. I sink down onto the bench, continue writing out the stream of consciousness… It’s garbled…but it’s a start. Get it the fuck down, get down the words…the flow. Ride it as far as you can. Catch the wave, motherfucker. Don’t screw this up.

"What the hell are you chuckling about, asshole?" A familiar voice reaches me from the direction of the door.

"Fuck off," I growl back, then focus on my screen.

The next moment an arm reaches over my shoulder and grabs the phone from me.

"Hey," I protest, "give that back."

"Not a chance in hell, brother." Arpad walks backward, reading through what I’d written. "Holy shit, Savage, this is some emo stuff."

The back of my neck heats. I jump up to my feet, stalk after him. "And you’re going to be in some serious shit if you don’t return my phone to me."

Arpad glances up, "Lost your balls already, huh?"

"The fuck you talking about?"

"You in love, bro?"

"You lost your mind,bro?"

"When was the last time you wrote such sentimental lyrics…hmm?" He pretends to think, "For that matter, when was the last time you wrote anything?"

No shit!"Those are not my words, you prick, and besides, it’s none of your bloody business." I reach for my phone; he tosses it over my head.

"What the fuck?" I turn to find Edward has snatched the phone from the air.