Damien

"Has she signed them yet?"

That was the first thing out of Parker’s mouth the second I walked into the conference room. To think that I hadn't even taken my seat yet. Or even apologized for running later.. I paused, meeting his cool gaze as I replied his question. “No. Not yet."

He shook his head slowly, and the obvious disappointment rolling off him in waves, had my fists loosely tightening. “Damien, we’re trying to be patient. We really are. But the longer you stay hitched to Juliette, the more time it's going to take to move the company to the heights we all want. She's a problem we need to—"

“She’s not a problem,” I couldn't help but correct, as I lowered myself unto my seat.

“She’s still standing in the way of the company's success,” James stated from across the table, before clearing his throat like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. “Look, we’re all on the same page here. The moment she’s out, we move faster and stronger. You know that. We've gone over this before.”

They weren’t wrong. But they weren’t right either.

“We’re not asking you to kill her,” Parker said, half-laughing. “Just push harder. Close this chapter, once and for all.” He angled his arm and stared down at his watch, his eyebrows jumping. "Well, it looks like we have to go. We have some other business meeting scheduled," he explained lightly as they all got to their feet.

I stared at the wall clock, realizing I'd showed up a little later than I'd thought. I rose to my feet, shaking their hands one by one and apologizing for my lateness. They waved it off, asking for me to make up for it by getting the deed done. The deed, of course, was getting Juliette's signature on the divorce paper. After the room emptied, I dropped into my seat, pulling a face towel from my jacket pocket and wiping my face with it.

How was I supposed to get Juliette to sign the divorce papers…

When every time I looked at her, I couldn’t tell if I wanted to let her go or pull her tighter?

***

It was a little past seven when I finally left the office. I didn't bother questioning it when I found myself pulling into the parking lot of a Thai place Juliette used to love. I figured maybe I’d take her something home. Smooth things over. Show her I wasn’t entirely the cold bastard she probably painted me as, after my actions the other day. We could go our separate ways peacefully, there was no need to end things on a sour note.

I'd just killed the engine of the car when I sighted her through the glass window of the restaurant. She was sitting across from some tall guy I didn’t recognize, smiling at something he said like he was the most amusing person on the planet. She laughed at something he said, leaning in just a bit too close to him for my comfort. I didn’t even realize my fists were clenched until I felt my fingers going numb.

Every part of me wanted to get out of the car, walk in there, and rip his smug face off. I knew more than anyone how ugly things would get. Whose side Juliette would take. I calmed myself instead, helpless to stop myself from slamming my hands on the steering wheel. Hard. My pulse was loud in my ears as I took deep breaths.

'Get it together. Get it the fuck together.' Eventually, I got it together.

And then I drove away.

***

The house was eerily quiet when I walked in. I poured myself a glass of scotch. Then another. I didn’t even bother changing out of my work clothes, just tossed my tie onto the couch and rolled my sleeves up. The alcohol didn’t do shit. It was almost eleven when the front door finally opened. I was already standing, glass in hand.

“Where have you been?” I asked lowly, my voice dangerously calm.

She blinked, a little startled to see me. She was probably wondering why I hadn't called since I was waiting up for her. “My car broke down," she replied. "Had no service, so I couldn’t reach you.”

I nodded slowly, setting the glass on the counter with a calm that masked the rage I was feeling. “Right. Did it break down before or after you went to some other man’s house to fuck him?”

She flinched like I’d slapped her. Her lips parted in shock at my words, hurt glistening her eyes. Then, slowly, she lifted her chin. "We're about to get a divorce either way. I don't see how that concerns you."

Wrong answer.

I closed the distance between us in three steps.

“You sure?” I whispered, my voice tight as I backed her again the wall. Her bag fell to the ground as her breath caught in her throat. “Tell me, did he touch you the way I do?” I asked roughly as I slid my hand beneath her skirt and up her thigh. “Did he kiss you the way I do?" I touched the tip of my tongue to her earlobe. "Did he know exactly where to put his hands to make you melt?”

She trembled, her hands twitching at her sides. “You let him hear the sounds you used to make for me?” My fingers pressed harder between her legs, right against her clit. Her mouth parted. “You think he knows how to wreck you?” I whispered into her neck. “Think he knows how to make you forget your own damn name?

I pushed her panties to the side, angrily sinking a finger into her pussy. She pushed at my chest. “I’m not doing this. I’m not going to mock what we had by having hate sex with you.” She stepped past me, breathing hard. She picked up her handbag, leaving me standing there with a hard-on that hurt and a rage I couldn’t swallow. I grabbed the vase from the console and hurled it at the wall. She didn't look back.

And all I could think about was how I was the one who handed her the reason to.