Serenity still had goosebumps though her air conditioning in the pristine white condo was not cold. Seeing Damien walk into the doctor's office today had given her pulse a zip, like Christmas morning. She tried to pretend he didn't matter, but in showing up, he'd done more than her family had in a long time. A headache formed in her temples because she could never say that out loud.
The doorbell finally rang, and her skin tingled with anticipation. He was here. She took a deep breath, tried to be cool and said as she opened the door, "Damien, I didn't think you'd take this long."
He held up three different restaurant bags and came inside. "I wasn't sure what kind of food you wanted so I have three different restaurants."
Three choices? She closed the door and watched him walk toward the kitchen counter. Wide shoulders, strong, straight back, slim hips and long legs. At least her child would have good genes she told herself, but she knew the way she studied him wasn't scientific at all.
He turned toward her and her face heated. "Oh well, I'm not that hungry to be truthful. I only let you come here because we should talk."
He didn’t even blink at her behavior. "Are your dishes in here?" He pointed to one of the white cabinets near the oven.
She nodded and he got down two plates and placed them on the counter with the food. She tried not to stare at him so she looked down at her bare toes. "Fine, but I just want us to be clear that I don't expect anything from you.” She brought her gaze back up, meaning every word. “I don't want anything from you. This might be a happy accident for me, but my future child doesn't need to be your obligation."
Damien crossed her floor in three strides and brushed his hand against her arms, leaving a trail of desire in his simple gesture. "You're having a Morgan, Serenity. I should have called you like I wanted."
Right. She led him toward her soft white couch. They needed to talk. She wasn't her sister and didn't want to be. She curled her feet under her thigh and tilted toward him as he sat next to her. "I don't know if I would have answered. You apologized, but there is no way the two of us would have ever worked. My family pretty much hates yours."
He lifted his eyebrow. "It was your father who broke the law, Serenity. I don’t dabble in illegal matters."
If only she believed that entirely. It would be easier. She mimicked his facial expression. "And your father profited from that."
He sat backwards, settling against the cushions. "Probably. My siblings and I all despise Mitch Morgan. He wasn’t a good man."
A sigh escaped her lips like air deflating from a tire. She placed her hand on her lower stomach and hoped to protect her baby inside. "We have that in common, then."
He lifted one leg onto the couch and leaned forward, holding her gaze. "Your sister is in jail, waiting for her trial. Your mother is in a recovery center which is why you opened twelve spas in two years. Your spas are in the black but it's a constant struggle for you to ensure that you have the funds for your sister's trial and your mother's care. Your father left nothing for you."
The prickly sensation at the base of her spine was a shock. She should have been prepared for him to know everything about her business accounts—it was what he did.
She folded her hands, grounding herself in the white around her. "He tried but the FBI was after the foreign accounts. I offered them full access to whatever was in there in exchange for dropping the charges against my sister. They took the deal and the money. However, I wasn't thinking about state prosecution for attempted murder. They couldn't help with that one, and I started at zero with no funds left from dear old dad. I found a lawyer for my sister but deals aren’t overnight."
He reached out and placed his hand on her knee. "In exchange for marriage, where we live together, I'll use the Morgan influence to help your mother and sister."
"Marriage?" She repeated in too loud a voice. “No.” The word swam in her head and she closed her eyes. Her sister's plan had been to get pregnant with Peter's illegitimate child, blackmail his family, and help their father. The FBI agent used her sister's anger for his own gains and now her sister sat in jail charged with felony attempted murder.
The giant abyss she saw in her dreams now threatened to open up and swallow her whole. Prying her eyes open, she said in a soft voice, "My sister would tell me to blackmail you for every possible dime I could get. But that is not me—I can't marry you and let that kind of thinking into my life."
His brow furrowed. "I don't understand. I'm not asking your sister."
But if she simply said yes, it was like following her sister's disastrous plan. She removed his hand from her knee. "Look, it boils down to the fact that we don't trust each other."
He shrugged. "We don't. I've never met a beautiful woman who didn't want my money.”
“I don’t want it, Damien.”
“I can ensure your business income will seem like pocket change to the kind of access you'll have with me."
Serenity’s mom would get up and dance a jig if she thought she'd never have money issues again, and if she could hold her head up high with her friends. Her stomach churned and she looked away. "I want to offer my child something we both know you can't give."
His hard voice carried in the air. "What's that?"
Love. She'd always wanted to be in a family that cared about her half as much as they cared about money. She swallowed, unable to say that, so she chose other words carefully. "Stability and to grow up in a loving household with two parents who care about each other."
He stared at her with a blank expression. "Neither one of us had that. How do you know what it looks like?"
True. His mother was his father's mistress and his father was married to a woman he’d locked away.
She rose from the couch and walked to the window to pull calm from the bay and the palm trees that waved at the shore. "I won't be blind, not like my mother, and I'm not marrying a bad boy like you."
He followed and stood behind her, so she could see his reflection in the glass. He was at least a foot taller than her with lean muscle and a smooth jaw. "Perhaps we start with mutual respect. Marrying me opens up a lifetime of opportunities for our child that you'll never achieve on your own."
Her baby. She cradled her flat stomach. If she became her mother or followed her sister's advice, she'd end up just like them—but if she gave her child a chance to be successful, was it worth the risk? The thought wouldn't go away. She turned and looked up into Damien’s patient brown eyes. "Forget marriage. Why do want a child? You can walk away."
He widened his stance. "I can’t walk away from family and neither can you. It's why your sister and mother mean so much to you. Together we can ensure our families stay strong."
Together wasn't a word she’d expected to hear so sincerely. Her shoulder sunk. She'd do whatever she could for her child. She brushed her hand against his arm, the sensation making her ache. This wasn't right. She shook her head and let him go, fast. "Let me think about this."
"And eat. My child needs to be healthy." He walked toward the counter and the food.
She hugged her stomach and stared at Damien. He was too close to being just like her father. She should never have slept with him. And she should’ve kicked him out of the doctor’s office, or her condo just now.
He piled a spaghetti dinner on a gleaming white plate and brought it to the dining table for her.
If she married Damien, she'd get everything she ever wanted, except to be loved by a man who adored her. Neither one of them were ready for what he asked. He motioned for her to sit at the table, but she said, "Make yourself a plate, too. I can't eat all of this. And then, if you're free, I'd like for us to go see my mother."
"Your mother?" He echoed as if she’d said something strange.
She nodded but didn’t explain as a plan formulated in her mind. He did as she asked, getting pasta and savory sauce and joining her at the table.
At the wedding, she hadn’t spent much time talking after he saved her. Perhaps eating with him was the first test to see if they could get along and for her to possibly say yes. Then she'd have to ask her mother what she thought about Damien. Maybe the Morgan name was enough for her mother to be on guard against a union. She'd find out. She had to know because there was a wistful part of her that longed to say yes to his wedding proposal.