Page 82 of Damon
Harrison and I stand watching Emma through the window of his office. She weaves around the desks on the floor, cuddling coworkers and chatting animatedly. After she’s spoken to everyone, she moves to her desk, setting out her stationary then placing a photo of Annie and myself on the surface. I watch as she sits down in the blue office chair then spins in a circle. The huge smile on her face tells me this is the right decision for her, even though I want to keep her at home, safe, locked away from everyone except me and my daughter.
“Someone is happy to return to work,” Harrison says, and I grunt, non-committal. “You have her to yourself for another week, McKinney. But after the new year, she’s back where she belongs, learning to be the awesome lawyer she has the potential to be.”
“Why can’t she want to be a stay-at-home mum?” I mutter, not looking at him.
“Because that isn’t her. Emma has career ambitions and promise.” He emphasizes the word promise. “If her choice is to work, you need to respect that. She couldn’t be anywhere safer than here. Three of your closest friends own this damn firm. One of them being me.”
“Anyone ever told you not to point out the obvious?” I roll my eyes at him, and he shrugs.
“Sometimes you need it pointed out so you don’t trip yourself up with your pigheadedness.” He lifts the can of beer sitting next to him and passes it to me. I drink deep, enjoying the cold liquid running down my throat. “Enjoy the final few days of the Christmas break with her, then you can both move forward with your new routine. Did you sort childcare?”
“Yes, we have a nanny starting next week, and Annie will be going to a nursery for the mornings. It all seems to be working out.”
“That it does,” Harrison agrees. “Now, the only thing we have left to do is take down Moreno and Brenton, then the new McKinney family can get their happily ever after.”
“Are there any more details on the restaurant opening tomorrow?” I ask, and he nods.
“Russell and Connor are on their way now; no doubt they will have collected Hunter on route. We will fill you in when we are all here. Another beer?” I hold a hand up in answer, and he tosses me a second can, then we both take a seat to wait for the others to arrive.
Fifteen minutes later, Russell bounds into the room waving a bundle of envelopes in his hand. He strides over to Harrison’s desk while Connor and Hunter file in behind him. “You can thank me later,” he announces, then throws down the papers. “Have you all got tuxedos? Because tomorrow we have been invited to one of the swankiest places in town for New Year’s.”
“I have a daughter,” I mutter. “I can’t just go out.”
“Already sorted. Mrs. D will babysit.”
“And what about Emma?” I snap, peeved that my plans are being made for me and I don’t know why.
“She can come too. Actually, I think her presence may ruffle the feathers we need to.”
“What are you talking about?” I drain my beer then slam it down on the surface beside me. “Stop speaking in fucking riddles and tell me what you’re on about.”
Russell grins and lifts one letter, passing it to me. As I slide what is clearly an invitation from its casing, he speaks. “Tomorrow, we will be helping our friends Roger Brenton and Samson Moreno celebrate the opening of their new restaurant. And I plan to make sure the whole event falls on its fucking face.”
***
Emma
New Year’s Eve 2022
Damon, Emma and Annie’s house
“So, Emma,” the tall blonde woman says as she struts around my bedroom. “What neckline do you usually prefer on a gown?”
“Um…”
“Do you have a preference with regard to length? With the event this evening being a black-tie engagement I would suggest you wear long.” She walks over to the massive rack of dresses she brought with her and starts to slide the perfectly polished hangers along the golden pole. I stand in the center of the room wearing the insanely expensive black lace underwear and garters she insisted I put on.
“I don’t have any experience with these types of events,” I answer honestly. “I’m happy to be guided by you.”
“Excellent,” she says, rubbing her hands together. Then her attention returns to the rack. She begins to pick out what look like identical dresses—each one is dark in color with minimal diamante and drop heavily in a straight line to the floor. “We’ll try a few of these on and see how you feel.”
Just then, my bedroom door opens and Damon walks in unannounced. Still dressed in his workout clothes, his defined arms and legs which are covered in tattoos are on display. My stomach clenches every time I see him. He looks so effing hot, more of a mafia enforcer than a police officer when dressed casually.
My assistant, I think her name is Tracey, spins on her heel to face him. She lifts both hands to her dark curls and runs bright red fingernails through the strands. “Chief Constable,” she purrs. “How are you this evening?” She steps toward him and offers a perfectly manicured hand. Her hungry eyes run up and down his body, and my frustration increases a notch at her drooling over my man.
“Good, thank you,” he replies, taking her hand briefly.
“We’re a work in progress,” she tells him. “Emma is a little unsure of what styles suit her body shape, but I have assured her I only carry the most flattering cuts.” She lifts one of the copycat dresses and waves it at him. He touches the material but doesn’t respond. “How would you like your partner to look this evening? I assume you will be sporting a tuxedo?”