Chapter 6 - The Forgotten Threat
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Being held in Damon’s arms again felt like stepping into shelter after four years of walking through a blizzard. My hands gripped the fine cotton of his shirt automatically, inhaling the scent of him as hot tears soaked into his collar. For so long, I had had to be the strong one—working double shifts at diners,pawnings my mother's wedding band for baby formula, hiding in the shadows while watching him on magazine covers alongside glossy Manhattan heiresses.
"I hated you when I saw the engagement announcement in the papers six months ago," I confessed against his chest, my voice muffled and raw. "Then Sophie got sick, and the hospital wanted thirty thousand dollars I didn't have. When the staffing agency offered triple pay for a live-in maid at a private Upper East Side estate, I didn't know it was yours until my first day."
Damon cupped the back of my head with one large, warm hand, tangling his fingers in my hair as he tilted my face up to meet his gaze. His thumb brushed away the tear tracking down my cheek with aching tenderness.
"The engagement to Camille was a trap, Elena," he murmured, his forehead resting against mine. "After my father died, the ballistics and financial trails went cold, but they pointed toward high-level political protection in New York. Senator Kensington—Camille’s father—was the only man on the harbor commission who benefited immediately from my father’s death. I kept Camille close to gain access to her father’s private records. I never touched her. Not once. Every time I closed my eyes, it was your face haunting me."
My breath caught as his thumb traced the line of my lower lip. The air between us thickened instantly, charged with four years of starved longing and unspoken grief.
"Why didn't you say anything three months ago when I started working here?" I asked softly, my heart fluttering as his gaze dropped to my mouth.
"Because you looked terrified the first time you saw me in the hallway," Damon admitted, his voice rough with emotion. "And because I was angry. I thought you had come back on someone else’s orders until I had my men investigate your last four years. When I saw the clinic bills in Queens, I anonymously wired the hospital the money to clear your debt, and I told Harrison to make sure your workload here was cut in half. I just never knew the hospital bills were for a little girl."
A wave of stunned gratitude washed over me. The sudden call from the hospital billing department two months ago saying an anonymous charity foundation had wiped my balance clean—that had been him all along.
Before I could say another word, Damon’s mouth descended on mine.
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It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was desperate, fierce, and possessive, tasting of salt and four years of agonizing separation. A soft gasp escaped my lips as he lifted me effortlessly against him, his hands spanning my waist as if he were branding me as his all over again. When we finally broke apart for air, both of us breathing heavily, a quiet knock sounded at the sitting room door.
"Mr. Vance?" Harrison’s muffled voice came from the hallway. "Pardon the intrusion, sir, but your mother has just arrived downstairs—and Ms. Kensington is with her."
