His office was like nothing like I had in mind but oddly—it fitted his personality. The room was decorated in a minimalistic way, and that was being generous. The only thing present in the room was a desk and a chair. A beanbag laid in the middle of the room, overlooking the window with the gorgeous view. There were no paintings or pictures. The only thing that showed he worked there was a picture of him and Lily on his desk. He'd insisted I stayed beside him at all times since the garage incident and had brought me my own desk and chair, right there in his office. I peeked a glance at him from the corner of my eyes.
His gaze was focused on the screen; his glasses sat pretty on his nose and my eyes trailed down slowly. He was clad in a suit, his jacket sat on the edge of his chair, his sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearm muscles. With every key he pressed, his muscles bulged, making me gulp. I had never seen a man look so attractive. I stared at his veiny hands and remembered how they seemed to be at home wrapped around my waist.
"Like what you see?" his gaze met mine, his lips curling into a smirk.
My gaze lingered there; soft, wet, warm. Exactly what I needed.
"Ivy?"
Those veiny hands. I remember its feel on my throbbing lips, the way they grabbed my hair and pulled. A moan escaped from my lips.
"Ivy!"
His voice jolted me out of my sexually frustrated thoughts, and I stared at him. "Yeah?"
"What were you thinking about?" he stood up.
Those thick thighs. I could just imagine them pinning me down, never letting me go.
"Nothing."
He walked towards me slowly. "I recognize that look.
I cleared my throat quickly. "What look?"
He leaned down and met my eyes. His scent sent my body into an overdrive. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. He reminded me of the warm brook I had seen during a vacation. Earthly. Delicate. Natural. I opened my eyes to see him so close to me, I felt his warm breath on my face.
"The one that tells me you want me just as much as I want you."
Oh, I wanted him so badly, more than I needed to breathe. His hand cupped my face gently, waiting for me to make the next move. He knew what he wanted, he just needed me to show I wanted it as much as he did. We brushed the kiss in the garage under the rug; I wanted to deny it never happened and he went along with it. There was no way I was going to sleep with the man whose father killed Wes. My target. There was... no way.
His breath fanned my lips as he moved closer—slowly, giving me the option to stop the kiss if I wanted. I knew I should stop. I knew it wasn't going to end well. I knew I should turn back before I dug a hole I couldn't escape from. I knew it wasn't right, but I didn't want to stop. I wanted the kiss as much as he did, if not more. I wanted him buried deeply inside me, he wouldn't be able to find his way out. I wanted all of him.
"Ivy," his voice sent chills down my back.
It told me all I needed to; that he wanted me as badly as I wanted him.
"Damon." Kiss me.
The door opened, I pushed him away quickly and cleared my throat.
"How dare you come in without knocking?" he snapped at the intruder.
George lowered his head. "I did," his hardened gaze met mine. "You were too busy to hear."
"What do you want?" Damon frowned.
"You have a visitor," he stepped to the left so the visitor could enter.
My stomach dropped at the sight of Alan River, and I stood up, breathing hard. He was the murderer who killed Wes. I folded my fists in anger as I watched him. He had such a youthful face, it was hard to know he was in his sixties, and that he was also a psychopath. The mafia who ruled the West and had influence in all the right places. The one who should have been my target. I wanted nothing more than to kill him right in that moment. A few feet away from me, a similar expression rested on Damon's face as he glared at his father.
He walked to his desk and dialed a number. "Get security."
"Is that any way to greet your father?" Avan said.
Damon's jaw tightened. "My father," he spat the word. "Died when I was a child. I have no father," he pointed at the door.
"Get out."
Avan ignored him and walked towards me. He stopped, stared at me without a word and stretched his hand.
"Avan Walker. Damon's father."
I paused, glaring at the outstretched hand. I had to play this out well. Avan was a powerful man with a lot of resources. All it took was a phone call to have people looking into me. It'd be difficult to find out my background since I was legally dead, but with enough pressure from a man like Alan, my real identity would be revealed. I had no idea what Tony's plan was, or why he suddenly wanted me to remain by Damon's side, but whatever it was, I knew I was going to need time.
My gaze met Alan's. I knew he was going to investigate me anyways, regardless of what I did. Time. It was all I need. Tara's fake background should be enough to keep his suspicions away so all I had to do was make him believe it.
"Ivy Wells," I grabbed his hand and smiled.
"I heard you're sleeping with my son."
His words made me freeze and I looked at Damon for help.
"I'm just his bodyguard. Trust me, Mr. River, I am not sleeping with your son."
Perfect. It sounded exactly like what Ivy Wells—a woman who grew up in a lovely home but lost her mother in a ghastly motor accident—would say.
"Where is security?" Damon muttered.
"They are not coming," Avan turned to him.
"I need you to leave," he said through gritted teeth.
"Are you gonna listen to me or would you like this lovely lady to witness something she isn't supposed to see?" Avan raised an eyebrow.
"And you know what I do to witnesses," his lips curled up into a smile.
Damon's gaze dashed to mine and I could see the fear behind his eyes.
"Fine." he sighed and walked to his table. "Ivy, leave us."
I paused. I needed to know what they were going to talk about but there were no cameras in the room so it was impossible for Tara to hack into the feed. I met Damon's gaze, and he slightly nodded, telling me it was going to be okay. I doubted it, but it wasn't like I could stay.
"Alright," I dropped my phone discreetly and kicked it under the desk.
I closed the door behind me and headed out.
"You," a voice called and I turned.
George stood at the corner, staring at me.
"Yeah?"
He pulled away from the wall and came closer to me. He stopped a few feet away from me.
"Who are you?" he asked.
George and I had barely exchanged any words since Damon hired me to be his bodyguard. I knew he was suspicious of me since the first time we met at the bar, but I hadn't paid any attention to him. Maybe I should have. A man like him could cause trouble.
"Ivy Wells," I blinked innocently.
He scoffed. "You might have him fooled but not me," he closed the gap and leaned closer to me.
"I'm watching you," he whispered and without another word, walked away.
Great.
I waited until he was out of my sight and dashed to Hallie, Damon's assistant's desk and smiled sweetly at her.
"Can I borrow your phone? I lost mine."
She nodded. "Of course."
I dialed the number I could think of and walked away. Tara picked on the second ring. "Who's this?"
"It's me. This is not a secure line. Hack into my phone and record their conversation," I cut the call before she could reply and gave the phone back to Hallie.
"Thanks."
It wasn't long before Avan walked out the door. I supposed there wouldn't be nothing much to discuss between an estranged father and son. He paused and turned to me.
"It was nice meeting you, Miss--," he paused.
I knew he remembered my name. He was just trying to intimidate me.
"Uh- Ivy. Ivy Wells," I needed to make him think he got me shaking in my boots.
I couldn't wait to see the look in his eyes when I took everything he loved from him. The mere thought made me smile widely. It would barely be enough punishment for killing Wes, but it would satiate Tony's thirst for revenge—and mine.
"I'll see you at dinner," he said, and walked away without so much of an explanation.
"Dinner?" I asked, confused but he was already gone.
I walked into Damon's office quickly. "Why did your dad say he's looking forward to seeing me at dinner?"
He sighed. "He wants us to come for dinner."
I was nowhere near ready for my revenge. I was yet to receive an order from Tony, and suddenly I was going to have dinner with the man who killed his son? There was not enough food on earth to make that happen.
"No."
No explanation. No excuses. No nothing. It was a plain no.
Damon nodded and held my hand. "I understand you not wanting to go to dinner, hell, I can't stand breathing the same air with him for a minute."
"I noticed."
"Alan and I have a complicated past," he said.
"He's your dad, isn't he?" I asked.
He shut his eyes tightly, like the mere thought of Alan being his blood brought him immense pain.
"I have no father. He's just a sperm donor."
I didn't push it.
"Okay then, it's settled. We're not having dinner with your sperm donor."
He tightened his hold. "He kinda didn't give me a choice."
I furrowed my eyebrows. "What?"
His gaze held mine. "Alan's a--," he paused to search for the right word. "Very dangerous man."
I tore away from him, feigning shock. "What?"
He saw the fear in my eyes and sighed. "You don't have to come if you don't want to. I would never ask you to do anything you're uncomfortable with."
I turned to him. "He threatened you, didn't he?"
It was the only thing I could think of that would make him have dinner with Alan.
He nodded. I could see the pain in his eyes.
"Lily?" I asked softly.
"Fuck!" he yelled and slammed his fist on the wall.
I'd take that as a yes. I wasn't surprised Alan would threaten Lily to get Damon to do what he wanted. Lily was Damon's weakness and it wasn't above Alan to use it against him.
"I'm gonna kill him," he said.
I grabbed his hand gently and peered at the blood that oozed out of the cut. Seeing him in pain brought out emotions in me—emotions I couldn't understand their meaning. All I knew was I wanted him to stop hurting. It broke my heart to see him in pain, and I wanted to make it stop.
I stared at him. "Let's go for dinner."
The words came out of my mouth before I could stop it. I should take them back. I should tell him I didn't mean it. I should come up with a lie or a good excuse.
"Really?" his eyes were uncertain.
No. I shouldn't do this. It wasn't part of my orders.
"It's just dinner, right?" I smiled.
I knew it wasn't just dinner. It was an invitation into the tiger's den, and I'd just accepted it--even though I doubted I'd come out unscathed.
"Oh, thank you," he wrapped his arms around me.
What the hell have I done?