There had been no response from Damian.
Which made sense, considering that he’d been “busy” or something all night.
She couldn’t believe that she’d bothered to reach out to him again. That she’d felt bad about telling him no and that she’d then tried to help him. He was a billionaire and a fucking dragon—there was no way he needed her help!
So, that was that. She was going to block his number. Literally…any minute now. She just needed a long enough break to do it in. She hadn’t gotten a break because the rest of her night at work included: an under-medicated patient extubating themselves—thanks to Dr. Chan not believing her about their sedation levels; a patient shitting the bed with blood twice and needing serial transfusions—which meant hanging out way longer than she wanted with the creepy guy who worked the blood bank counter; and a neighboring patient’s widow-maker heart attack, during which she’d had to take a few rounds doing CPR—but better that than the charting!—before the poor guy went off to the cath lab. And to think, some people thought that nurses played cards all night to stay up.
After all of that, she was the last person out of the break room, and she was in danger of missing her bus. She trotted for the elevator, missed it, paced around in a circle until the next one came, and then stood right behind its doors, waiting for it to open up.
And when it did…he was there.
Damian, in the flesh.
He was messy, with streaks of dirt and dust across his face and in his black hair, but the clothes he wore were pristinely clean. And he was still as handsome as he’d always been—chiseled jaw, full lips, and golden eyes that seemed like they missed nothing.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” she replied reflexively. She made sure to step out of the elevator before he could press her back into it—her own body’s interest in that be damned.
“I was coming to find you,” he said. His eyes drank her up and down. “I need my coat.”
Andi frowned. In person, he seemed like less of a dick and possibly more desperate. She’d had those breakups before that were so unexpected and traumatic that she’d scoured her bedroom looking for their things to burn—or return. As in: “You left your ballpoint pen over here! Let me hand-deliver it to you, wearing only a trench coat and garters at two in the afternoon!” And she’d generally been smart enough to talk herself out of them, realizing that ballpoint pens were a renewable commodity, but pride was not.
But…maybe Damian hadn’t been there yet?
“I don’t have it,” she said, stepping around him, willing herself to be strong.
“What do you mean, you don’t have it?” he asked, falling into step alongside her. Every time she dared a glance at him, he was burning through her with his eyes, and she flushed.
“I mean exactly that. I don’t have it anymore.”
He inhaled deeply and whipped his hair out of his face with a practiced hand. “Then, where is it?”
“I don’t know.” Which was technically true? Because there was a fifty-fifty chance that Julian had already pawned it off for drugs. And she didn’t want to talk about Danny to Damian—he’d just try to swoop in and fix it with all his money, and then she’d owe him, and goddammit, she’d already done enough for Danny in her life. She got to keep some pride, okay?
Damian strode out ahead of her as they left the building to block her path. “I’m not joking, Andi. I need it.”
The way he was looking at her…his coat wasn’t all he needed. One word from her, one gesture, and he’d carry her away, and pieces of her longed to give him permission. Somehow, she maintained her common sense. “And I’m not joking either. It’s gone, all right?” And added, “It’s over,” because she needed to hear herself tell him that out loud.
His jaw clenched, and the muscles in his shoulders bunched, then relaxed. “If it’s over, then why did you call?”
Andi groaned, inside and out. “Because…remember what Austin was saying? About an orderly that triggered the mess in Zach?”
Damian nodded briskly.
“I think…I thought…I saw him last night. But to be fair, there’s like, a lot of bald people who work at the hospital. Maybe it’s the extra radiation exposure or something? It was late at night, I don’t know. It seemed like the right thing to do, though I’m regretting it now.”
Damian looked past her at the hospital, and she could almost see his dragon-half right beneath his skin as he considered the building.
“Just don’t do whatever it is that you’re thinking about,” she warned him.
“And what’s that?” he asked, turning his attention back on her.
“Tearing the place apart with your bare hands.”
A smile flickered across his lips as he met her gaze. “And now?” he asked her, his voice low and meaningful as he looked at her with deep intent. All her memories of their night together in his car came rushing back, and she swallowed. It would be so easy for her to just give him another chance.
She could see his golden eyes thinking the exact same thing, but then they narrowed. “Why do you smell like men’s aftershave?”
“What?”
“It’s either aftershave…or cologne.” He tilted his head at her. “Who were you with?”
She blinked and kept on blinking. Was she hearing him right? “Excuse me?”
“You were with a man earlier. Who was he?”
“You mean my uncle?” she said, her whole body full of disbelief. There had been another man there, yes—David, but Damian didn’t need to fucking know that. It was none of his business, and he’d only assume wrong besides.
“Possibly,” Damian granted. “But just who is this uncle of yours?” His brow was furrowed in confusion, and all the lust she’d felt for him earlier was jostling up against a rising level of pissed-off-ness.
“Are you kidding me right now?” she asked. Judging from his expression, apparently not, but two could play that game. “So, who was that woman on the phone?”
“No one of concern,” he snapped, taking another step forward and inhaling deeply. He was close enough now that she could smell something medicinal on him. It took her a moment to remember what it was, though, considering the time.
“Is that whiskey?” she asked, her voice rising. “At seven in the morning?”
“So? It doesn’t work on me,” he said dismissively.
“Tell that to the breathalyzer.” She shoved her fists into her pockets and saw her bus pull into the bus stop. “You’re not getting your coat back now, Mister Blackwood.”
“And I don’t want it if it smells like that, Miss Ngo,” he told her, which felt a little like a slap. She gasped and bit her lips.
“I’ve got to go,” she said, darting around him and jogging for the bus.
“Andi, don’t!” he protested, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t slow down, and when she reached the bus’s door, she leaped on board.
She stumbled down the aisle and took the first empty seat, happy to be away from Damian—only to find him standing right behind her.
“Is this seat taken?” he asked.
“It’s a free country,” she muttered, making herself small against the window. “Don’t you have a million-dollar car you should be driving in?”
He sat down beside her. “I thought you said I shouldn’t be driving because I drank? You need to make up your mind.”
“I? Need to make up my mind?” Andi said, shaking her head at him.
Damian looked wounded. “I didn’t mean what I said.”
“That seems like a habit of yours. You should probably look into it. With a therapist.”
Damian snorted. “They’d commit me right when I got to the part about the dragon.”
“And rightfully so.” Andi stared out the window at the rest of the cars on the street, full of normal people ready to go about their normal daytime lives. Every day she rode the bus home and looked out at them, she wondered what that was like. She turned back to Damian. “Look, you don’t know me, okay? I know you think you do, because of one great night and a background check, but I’m more than just some piece of paper you got printed out and a good lay.”
One of his eyebrows rose. “I would at least say fantastic. Good isn’t good enough to describe you, Andi.”
Andi rolled her eyes. “You’re not hearing me. I have things you don’t know about me! Things that maybe I don’t want you to know!” She was yelling loudly enough that other people on the bus were now breaking the bus-code-of-conduct—which was to completely ignore anything any other patron was doing up to and occasionally including public masturbation if the rider was doing it quietly—to frankly stare at them as Andi went on. “And you’re overbearing and sometimes an asshole, and you just assume that you’re right all the time, which is like a huge turnoff because if I wanted that in my life, I’d be dating a doctor already, so help me God!”
Damian took the brunt of her anger silently until she was finished, then waited for her to catch her breath before responding. “Is that all?”
“Most of it,” she said, before staring resolutely out the window, away from him.
The bus rumbled to a stop, and more passengers got on before he spoke again, soft enough that she knew the words were just for her. “I know I may seem like that, Andi, but the only thing that feels right to me is you.”
Even though her head was turned, she closed her eyes so she wouldn’t look. It was too easy to break when he said things like that and sounded like he meant them. But then the bus stopped again. She felt him stand, and she couldn’t help herself. “Where are you going?” she asked, turning toward him at last.
“To change lines. This one doesn’t go up to the Briars,” he said, his golden eyes locked with hers.
And who would’ve thought, billionaire Damian Blackwood knew the route of his city’s bus lines. She frowned. “I’m still mad at you.”
He nodded gently. “I know, princess,” he said, then walked down the aisle and off the bus.