Chapter Ten

 

Later that morning, Harper rang the French restaurant and spoke to the maître d’, Clement.

“I’m sorry, mademoiselle, I cannot give out Monsieur Vertefeuille’s private number.”

Harper explained the situation and said she’d met him the other night when she was with Damon, but the maître d’ still wouldn’t give her Damon’s phone number. She expelled a frustrated grunt down the phone. “So, you can’t help me, or you won’t?”

The line went silent for a few seconds. “The best I can do is give you Monsieur Vertefeuille’s office number. Maybe his secretary can help you.”

Harper suppressed a harrumph this time. The guy was trying to get rid of her. She wrote the number on a notepad and put the phone down.

Undeterred, she rang his office straightaway, but the snooty secretary wasn’t much help either, once again refusing to give her Damon’s mobile phone number even after she’d explained everything to her. With a sigh, she asked, “Okay, can you get a message to him and ask him to call me as soon as he can?”

“Yes, I can do that, but he is going to be in rural France, and most likely won’t have a good signal for a few days.”

“Can you at least try, please? It’s important.”

“I’ll try, Ms Clarke, but it is the weekend, and I’m not supposed to be working.”

Why did all his employees seem hellbent on making things difficult? She gave her home phone number to the secretary, said goodbye and put the phone down once again.

Zarya came in. “Still no luck?”

“No, it’s hopeless. I’ve asked Damon’s secretary to get him to call me on the home phone, but I doubt she will.”

“He’ll call, Harper. I know he will.”

Harper stayed in all day, checking every hour to make sure the home phone was working.

Nothing.

She justified it by telling herself he was probably on the plane, or at the airport, and then he would be travelling around France, to which parts, she didn’t know.

Presuming the secretary had passed on the message.

The next day, Harper checked her answering machine as soon as she woke.

Nothing.

She justified it again by picturing Damon in some remote vineyard without phone reception.

Her home phone remained silent.

* * *

Damon said he would be gone for two days.

Today was day three. He would be back in the UK by now, so why hadn’t he called?

She tried to blame the secretary again, but the awful, nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach told her something wasn’t right.

Did what they shared mean nothing to him?

That evening, Harper sat at her computer and idly googled his name.

Zarya peered over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

Harper jumped. “Nothing.”

Her friend peered closer. “Aww, you’re so in love. Don’t worry, Damon will call. He’s probably busy.”

Too busy to call me?

Pages of Damon’s restaurants dotted all around the world came up on the screen, all successful and thriving. She read the rave reviews.

Then the images. Chic restaurants, exquisite dishes, and his handsome face smiling back at her.

She scrolled through the images, Zarya breathing down her neck.

Picture upon picture of Damon appeared.

Damon, with a different woman on his arm every time.

Her stomach cinched.

She thought they had something special. He made her think he felt the same with his talk of fate and finding the one special person in his life. What if it was all a lie? He clearly had no problem getting any woman he wanted. What if that was all she was, a one-night stand? Another one of his floozies fooled by his charming persona.

No, this can’t be happening.

A tear trickled down her cheek. “How could I have been such an idiot, Zar?”

“You’re not. There has to be some sort of explanation, right?”

“No, the pictures don’t lie. Damon is a womaniser. My luck hasn’t changed at all. I’m still the unluckiest witch on the planet, and now I’m a gullible one too.”

Her friend patted her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Harper. I liked him, and you two seemed so perfect for each other.”

“I did too, but I have to face it. Misfortunes follow me around like a bad smell.”

“It’s late, Harper. Sleep on it. You might feel better in the morning.”

Harper doubted it, but she trudged off to her room and climbed into bed.

She hadn’t been in bed for more than fifteen minutes when Zarya shouted from the living room. “Harper, get back in here, quick. You need to see this.”

With a sigh, she went to see what all the fuss was about.

Zarya sat in front of the computer, her face drained of colour.

“What’s up?”

Her friend swallowed. “I found something else…”

Harper rubbed her temples. “It doesn’t matter what else you’ve found about Damon, Zar. It’s over between us, if there even was an us.”

“No, this has nothing to do with Damon. Or maybe it does. I don’t know what to think.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

Zarya turned the screen. “Look.”

Harper looked. A brand new Magik Dates website was on the screen. “Oh wow, Conner said it wouldn’t be ready for at least a month…” She trailed off as she took a closer look at the website. The design and layout weren’t anything like she’d discussed with Conner Mitchel. “Wait, that’s not right. None of it is right.”

“I found it by accident,” Zarya explained. “It came up on my search engine.”

Harper pulled up a chair and sat beside her friend.

“That’s not the worst part either.” Her friend clicked on the ‘about’ button.

Harper read it out loud. “Magik Dates, dating agency. Founder and CEO, Conner Mitchel.” Her stomach took a nosedive. “I… I don’t understand.” Maybe she did, but her mind was a blur of denial and betrayal.

“The bastard has set the website up all right—in his name,” said Zarya. “There’s no mention of you owning the company anywhere.”

She cursed at her stupidity. Why had she been so negligent in officially registering her business and its name? She’d always meant to do it but hadn’t got around to it.

Harper didn’t care how late it was, she grabbed the home phone, intending to ring Conner and find out what the hell was going on, then she remembered she didn’t have his number—his business card was in her handbag too.

The bag still in Damon’s car.

Along with the bag that contained her business plan for Magik Dates.

Nausea hit her full on.

Spotting a phone number on the website, she dialled it. It rang for ages, then went to answer phone.

She cursed again as she slammed the phone down. “I don’t believe it. How could I not have seen this coming? They’ve both played me for a total fool.”

“This is awful. I’m so sorry.”

“I thought Damon liked me, even something more than like, but it was all part of their plan from the beginning. Damon laid on the charm, and I fell for it.” Tears prickled. “I bet he even arranged for the lift to break down so he could get me on his side for my meeting with Conner.” She swiped at the tears now running down her face. “I trusted Damon. I trusted them both with their pathetic, brothers-with-issues act they put on, all so they could steal my business idea and set it up themselves.”

Zarya handed her a tissue. “No wonder Damon was in such a rush to leave that morning. He knew your bags were in his car, Harper,” she said quietly.

Harper didn’t need her friend to spell it out. She’d formed her own opinion of Damon not-that-charming Vertefeuille.

The lowlife bastard was a lying, cheating, conniving, manipulative, devious… She could go on, but sobs wracked her body, the pain too much to bear.

The vampire had stolen not only her business, but her fragile heart too.