I want to run to him, but right now, his attention is laser-focused on Bertrand. He’s only inches from the man, still held in place by Ryan’s concrete grip.
“Do not even think of playing hardball with me,” Damien says. “You think you know the extent of my resources? Money, power, influence? You don’t have a clue how far my reach goes. But I’ll tell you this,” he adds, getting in even closer, “I damn sure have the resources and connections to bury a worm like you. You want to test me? Release those photos. But be prepared for your world to go to shit if you do. Are we clear?”
Bertrand’s mouth opens, but no sound comes out.
“Are we clear?” Damien repeats, and the man nods, looking miserable and just a little sick.
“Let him go,” Damien says to Ryan. “Nikki, Carmela. We’re leaving.”
Carmela has my arm in a vise-grip as we leave the room. We pause in the hallway, and she releases me, then throws her arms around me and then around Damien. “Thank you, Damie. Thank you both.”
Damien lets her linger for a moment, then gently extricates himself. He comes to me and folds me into his arms. “You were brilliant,” I say.
“Hopefully that’s the last of him. He’d be a fool to release those photos now.” He kisses me lightly, then brushes his lips across my ear. “Let’s go check in with Evelyn and Charles. And then, my darling wife, I want to celebrate our victory.”
“That sounds great,” I say sincerely, even though I know that he has a completely different type of celebration in mind.
Chapter Ten
Damien’s hand slides down from my waist to cup my rear as we approach the door to our suite. He tilts my chin up as he bends to brush a kiss over my lips. “Do you know what I want to do now?”
“Tell me,” I say, my nipples tightening as I think of his description of how he wanted to take me on the rooftop, and for the first time since I started planning his party, I’m wishing it was some other day.
“I want to celebrate.”
“Let’s do it,” I say, though I know that each of us has a different celebration in mind.
I’d lingered with Damien in the hall before coming back to the room, accidentally-on-purpose hitting the button for the lobby when I insisted we take the elevator, then popping into the gift store for some mints. Now, it’s been at least ten minutes since we left Bertrand’s room, and I’m hoping that’s enough time for Carmela and the others to have gotten inside.
I’ll know soon enough, I realize, because Damien has his key out and he’s swiping the lock. I hear the click, see him push down the handle.
Then the door is opening and we step into the darkened room. I hear Damien’s surprised, “hmm,” because we never leave the blinds down or the light off, but before he can think too much about it, I reach for the switch.
The room lights up, and at the same time, smiling faces appear from all over the massive living area, a chorus of “Surprise!” ringing out, the word still echoing when Ronnie bolts pellmell toward Damien.
“Were you surprised, Uncle Damie? Were you? Were you?”
“I sure was, Monkey,” he says, his expression something I don’t usually see on Damien’s face as he looks out over the crowd—he looks not only surprised, but humbled.
With a quick grin in my direction, he swings Ronnie up onto his hip, then steps further into the room to greet the dozens of guests who’ve helped manage to pull this off. Syl and Jackson, Evelyn and Charles, Carmela and Wyatt, Jamie and Ryan. And more. Folks from work like Preston and Lisa and Rachel, new friends like Cass and Siobhan, and Dallas and Jane, and on and on and on.
Soon enough, the guests disperse—some in the living room, some in the kitchen, most going up to the rooftop. I’m heading over to the bar to make Damien and I drinks, when I see Evelyn pull him into a warm, maternal hug. “Your wife pulled off a doozy.”
Damien laughs and swings his arm affectionately around her shoulder as he turns to took at me. “She did. But I know she had help. So thank you.”
“Anything for you, kiddo. You know that.”
He presses a kiss to her cheek. “Yes,” he says, “I do.”
I’ve just handed Damien his drink when Dallas and Jane approach with Noah Carter and Lyle Tarpin. Dallas is one of the investors in The Resort at Cortez, and his scandalous romance with Jane filled the tabloids not that long ago. “Happy birthday, buddy,” Dallas says. “We appreciate the invite. Of course, you need to be nice to me if you want to make up for stealing away one of my best men,” he adds, glancing at Noah, the tech genius that Damien’s been recruiting.
Noah holds up his hands. “What can I say?” he says. “I need more excitement in my life.”
The men laugh, and Jane bites back a smile, though I don’t get the joke at all. Then again, I’ve always known there’s more to Dallas Sykes than meets the eye.
“How’s the movie going?” Damien asks, turning to Jane in what may be a ploy to change the subject.