“I’m here, baby.”
She pushed a stray lock of blond hair out of her eyes before propping herself up on an elbow. He held his breath, afraid she’d wake the kids, but their two daughters remained motionless. Their oldest, Lara, now four. And their youngest, Anne, whose birthday had been today, Wednesday. Technically yesterday, Damien realized, since it was past one in the morning. Two precious little people, one blond, one dark. Yin and Yang. His girls. His babies. Now sleeping peacefully, worn out from spending the day in the pool with Mommy and Daddy, then snuggling up to watch a Disney movie.
Since their birthdays were so close together, the girls’ joint party had been the previous Saturday. And though it had been planned only as a toddler birthday party, the event had become so much more than that. A celebration of life. Of Anne’s safe return. And of the capture and incarceration of the fucker who’d had the gall to steal her away.
The only way it could have been better was if Damien had killed the man. Rory Claymore. A spineless excuse for a human who was now behind bars after entering a plea of guilty to two counts of aggravated assault and kidnapping. Now he could rot in prison.
Yesterday had been a smaller, private celebration. Just Damien and his girls, with a homemade chocolate birthday cake for Anne, and a lovely, lazy day celebrating their family.
Nikki blinked sleepily. “Is it morning already?”
“Almost two.”
Despite his answer, she glanced at the clock beside the bed. “What are you doing up?”
He allowed himself the ghost of a smile. “I was thinking about Carmela, actually.” Now the face of the highly successful designer label she’d launched with her husband, Carmela D’Amato was not only a former fashion model, she was also one of the few women before Nikki that Damien had fucked with any pattern of regularity.
As he’d expected, his wife arched a brow, and that predictable reaction—half-amusement, half-jealousy—raised his spirits considerably.
“Oh, really?” She was awake now, her voice no longer coated with the thickness of sleep. There was, however, a hint of humor, which underscored how far they’d come. Once upon a time, Nikki would have happily strangled Carmela. And considering the games the Italian beauty had played in Germany, Damien would have handed her the rope.
“Care to explain yourself, Mr. Stark? Just because I no longer think of her as the monster bitch queen from hell doesn’t mean that I want her filling my husband’s head.”
“I was remembering Dallas,” he said, moving toward her, then sitting on the edge of the bed and taking her outstretched hand. “I was thinking that without her we might never have met.”
“Without Carmela?” Her lips twitched. “No way. I give full credit to those tiny cheesecakes.”
He chuckled. “The cheesecake was only my excuse to get near to you. The woman who took my breath away the moment I saw her on stage. The woman who still does,” he added as he brushed his thumb over her lower lip, satisfaction coursing through him from the way she responded, her eyes closing as she released a soft sigh of pleasure.
“And Carmela fits in how?” The question was soft. Barely a whisper.
“She’s the one who urged me to accept the invitation to judge. She wanted to see Texas. Horses and cowboys.”
Nikki’s delighted laugh warmed his soul. “You never told me that. And did she find a cowboy?”
“She did. I went back to Milan, then London, then home to LA. She stayed in Dallas. I’m not sure how long they were together. He had a ranch. I think she was particularly fascinated by the longhorns.”
“I’ll bet she was.”
He could tell by the laughter in her voice that she thought he was teasing her, but it was true, though not something he’d thought about in years and years. Everything had changed when he’d walked out of that ballroom with Carmela, and the clever model was savvy enough to pick up on it, and self-assured enough to walk away without throwing a tantrum. She’d left the next night on the arm of a denim-clad, Stetson-wearing millionaire she’d met in the hotel bar.
Carmela had left because of Nikki. And that wasn’t the only change she’d wrought unawares. Damien had always held his private life close, but Nikki had gotten under his skin, and after Dallas, he’d accepted even fewer invitations to events and parties. He hadn’t shunned women, but as he’d told Nikki early in their relationship, he hadn’t dated. He’d fucked. And that only to take the edge off.
There was only her. There’d only ever been her. There would only ever be her.
And what truly made her his miracle was that she felt the same way about him.
“What prompted the trip down memory lane?” She brushed her thumb lightly over his hand, their fingers still twined together. “I like the part about us, but I’m not sure why you felt compelled to work Carmela into the memory. Contrast?” She lifted a brow in question as a small smile played over her lips.
“She sent me a text.”
“Oh?” Her eyes dipped to his phone.
“She just heard the news.”
“Oh.” This time her tone was flat.
“She was embarrassed not to have reached out before. Apparently she and Paolo have been knee deep in prep for their upcoming show. But she’s relieved to know that Anne is home now.”
“Home.” She drew a breath as she shifted on the bed, releasing his hand so that she could touch both of the girls. “Well, I—I mean, tell her we appreciate the thought. I do like her, you know. She’s grown on me. Back then—that night in Dallas, I mean—I hated her. I think I hated her at the pageant even more than the night she showed up in your hotel room in Germany.”
“In Germany, you were already mine, wholly and completely. In Dallas, there was only the potential.”
“Potential, Mr. Stark? Aren’t you the one who once told me we were inevitable? That no matter what, we would have found each other?”
“We would have. We’re bound, you and I. And somehow, the thread that connects us would have pulled you to me.”
Even in the dim light, he could see the storm building in her eyes, a wild passion that filled his soul, both arousing and humbling him.
Christ, she had such power over him, and yet she still submitted. Gave herself to him so openly and willingly.
Trusted him.
He sat back, sighing deeply.
She frowned, then lifted the hand that had been stroking Anne’s tiny head and rested it on his thigh. “Come to bed. We can carry the kids back to their room,” she added, and he felt his balls tighten merely from the heated suggestion in her voice. “We probably should have moved them already.”
“They’re fine,” he said. “Today was special.” They’d spoken with a counselor the day after they’d gotten Anne back, and she’d urged that they keep to a normal routine. That fucking prick Rory had kept Anne drugged, a fact that made Damien’s blood boil, but also meant that she now remembered none of it. Or, at least none of it other than the steady stream of Disney movies.
A tiny blessing in a sea of horrors.
As for Lara, she knew her sister had gone away, but her imagination didn’t lead her to the nefarious. And now Lara seemed to have forgotten that Anne had even been gone.
“Change their routine too much and it might actually be counterproductive,” the counselor had said. And so they’d let the girls fall asleep “accidentally” in their bed that first night. But after that, the girls had returned to their bedroom, a few extra stuffed animals for their comfort—as well as for his and
Nikki’s.
And although both he and Nikki knew they couldn’t work from home forever—and, in fact, were both returning to their respective offices tomorrow—they’d spent the week since Anne’s return doing as little work as possible. What they did tackle, they handled from home. The girls, however, were too young to understand the change in routine, especially since he and Nikki both frequently worked from the Malibu house.
Tonight, the whole family had piled into bed for popcorn and Puppies!, known to the rest of the world as 101 Dalmatians. And since the kids had been zonked after a day in the sun—and since it was Anne’s birthday and both he and Nikki had wanted the girls with them—they’d let their babies fall asleep in Mommy and Daddy’s bed.
“In that case, come to bed with all of us,” Nikki urged now. “You can fall asleep holding your wife.”
“Soon. I’m going to take care of a few things that have been hanging.”
Her eyes scanned his face. “You can’t sleep. And it’s not just tonight.”
He should have known she’d notice. “Just thinking about work.” Which was technically true. He needed to shoot some emails to Ryan, and now was as good a time as any to do that. And no, the emails weren’t directly related to Stark International’s business, but anything relating to the safety and security of the CEO and his family fell under the purview of the Stark International security team, and that was Ryan’s purview.
“I can get up. Make you some coffee.”
He leaned forward and cupped her cheek, then kissed her sweetly. “It’s fine. I’m fine. And coffee would only keep me up longer.”
“Damien—”
“Go to sleep, baby. And I promise you’ll wake up in my arms.”
Again, she studied him, then gave him a tight little nod. “I better.”
He kissed her again, then slid off the bed. He paused in the doorway and looked back, savoring her sweet smile before she drew the girls tight against her, blew him a kiss, and closed her eyes in surrender to sleep.
Chapter Three
A cup of coffee sat untouched on the dining table in the third floor kitchen as Damien skimmed the email he’d just dictated to Ryan, tapped out a few tweaks, then clicked send. He opened a fresh email, intending to draft another note, this one to his brother, Jackson Steele, about the ongoing issues at The Domino, a joint real estate venture between Steele Development and Stark Real Estate.