He Hurt Me, Now He Wants Me Back novel Chapter 15

Imogene Scott

I take a long breath before I flick the lock on the door. Before I can step out, Damien steps in, causing me to stumble backwards. His eyes darken as he flicks the lock on the door.

Next thing I know, his familiar clean, woody scent fills my senses. I stiffen, my eyes locking with Damien’s as he steps closer to me. His gaze is intense, jaw clenched. Every inch of him oozes intensity.

“Did you come here with your landlord?”

“How...never mind.” Of course he knows Keith is my landlord. He probably knows everything about Keith Jordan since Elinor told me KJ Tech and IMU are rival companies. “Whether I’m here with him or not is none of your business. We’re divorced. I can go on a date with whoever I want.”

“So that’s what this is?” The tiniest flicker passes through his eyes. “A date?”

“Yes.” A platonic one, and I don't intend to meet Keith again. But Damien doesn’t need to know that. I lift my chin, challenging him to step back.

“He’s not your type.”

“I’m trying new types. The old one didn’t work out so well for me.”

Damien tries to hide it, but I don’t miss the fissure in his cool expression or the trickle of hurt that leaks through. My heart squeezes but I push the feeling down. Don’t feel bad for him. He deserves it. I curl my fingers around my arm so hard they hurt.

“You can go on as many dates as you want, amor,” Damien says softly. “But no one will love you like I do.”

The words curl through me, warm and aching. My smile hides the painful thrum behind my ribcage. “That sounds like a good thing to me.”

With the last ounce of strength in me, I walk past him and flick the lock. He doesn’t stop me. I step out of the restroom and join Keith at the table. He seems a bit worried.

“That took forever.” he says as I take my seat.

One part of me feels relieved that he didn’t see Damien walk in. We continue to enjoy our meal in silence. After the main course is finished, I get up, ostensibly to make a call. I don’t need to make a call, it’s just an excuse to pay for our meal before Keith can.

But when I stop our server and ask about the bill, he smiles. “It has already been paid, madam,” he says in accented English.

“Already?”

“Yes. Mr. Jordan prepaid when he booked.”

“I see,” I say slowly, trying to hide my disappointment. Now I feel like I owe him. Curse my selflessness.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” he asks.

“No, thank you.” I flash him a smile.

I head back to our table and after a few drinks, we leave the restaurant. The drive back home is almost in complete silence until Keith finally talks.

“So, how was the food?” he asks, taking a quick glance at me before glancing back at the road.

“It was okay…” I trail off.

“On a scale of one to ten?”

“Ten.” I manage to say.

We stop at the red light and Keith turns to me. “You know about LA’s yearly tech convention?”

I’ve heard about it. It’s usually a big deal. “Yeah.”

“Well, I’m one of the co-hosts this year.”

My hands fly to my mouth. “That’s huge.”