The Devil Behind Me(15)

“Miss, if you would please follow me,” she now smiled and guided me to the changing rooms. Another younger girl followed with various dresses, which were all black. “Um excuse me, but can you please enter the dressing room? I’ll need you to try on these dresses.” The salesclerk smiled again. I hesitated, uncomfortable with her seeing me undress; not everyone knew about the scar on my back and I wasn’t ready to deal with yet another person asking questions. She held the curtain open and looked rather annoyed at me. I finally conceded and stepped inside the changing room.

The moment I pulled off my shirt, she gasped. I hung my head and said nothing. She acted as though she saw nothing and proceeded to ask me if I wanted Daimon to see me in the various dresses. I refused to come out and parade myself in front of him. He didn’t get to decide what I wore. This wasn’t Pretty Woman.

I finally found a dress I loved. It was a black sleeveless turtleneck dress, which fit like a dream, hugging all the right places and, it covered my scar.

“This is the one,” the salesclerk said, smiling.

She gave me a pair of black sling back shoes to match. “You are beautiful,” she reassured me as I looked in the mirror at the stranger looking back at me.

I stepped out and walked over to where he sat while on his phone talking business.

“Yes, Clark, you called?” I heard Daimon say as he spoke on the phone. I watched as he walked around the store touching the clothing. I waited until he was done, not really caring for his approval. He growled and then answered, “Ignore them. Just do as I say—”the moment he turned my way, he stopped in mid-sentence for a mere second, and then he started up again. “And we’ll both get rich.” I bit my lower lip hard. Why did my stomach flutter at that moment?

He hung up his phone and turned to me. “You clean up well,” he laughed.

“Oh, did I just see Daimon again?” I asked mockingly.

“Why?” he wondered.

“You were an asshole to me my whole high school life, but these past two days you’ve been utterly unpleasant,” I remarked, trying to stifle the butterflies in my stomach.

“I figured you like the strong aggressive type,” he shrugged.

“No, actually I don’t,” I said in a solemn tone. All the flutters now lay dead, as a cold shiver came down my spine.

“Addie, you like it when someone is aggressive with you. You’re a fighter. You need someone to fight with,” he said earnestly. I shuddered at a past memory I wanted to forget.

“Addie?” he said quietly as he came closer to me; instinctively I took a step back, wanting my space. “What is it?”

I looked up and smiled pushing back that time of my life.

“Nothing. So where to, hot shot?” I asked, waiting. He narrowed his eyes at me. Daimon knew I was hiding something, but as per the contract, he couldn’t force it out of me. Our past was off limits.

“Lunch, then a bar,” he said, still watching me closely.

“Then lead on.” I nudged toward the door.

Had you told me ten years ago I would be walking around Lower Manhattan on Daimon’s arm, I would have said you were crazy, and that I would rather put bamboo slivers under my fingernails. Yet, here I was, hand in hand with Daimon as he walked with me to the restaurant he wanted us to eat at.

“Where are we going?” I asked, unnerved at the very touch of Daimon’s hand.

“To Delmonico’s,” he said as we finally reached the restaurant.

Two tall Corinthian columns flanked the door of the flat iron building that housed the restaurant. Daimon led me up the few steps and held the door open for me. I walked in with Daimon close behind. We stood at the maître d’s podium and waited.

“Yes, Mr. Evans, right this way.” A tall man appeared wearing a custom tailored suit.

“Come here often?” I asked, as I looked at him mockingly. Daimon placed his hand on my lower back and began guiding me through the store.

“Once or twice,” he smiled.

I arched my back as the feeling of his hand, the heat of his touch, radiated through me. He moved his hand higher up and pulled me in closer. That simple gesture melted some of my resolve. It’s just a deal, Addie.

“In here you are my woman, so don’t look like you’re disgusted with me,” he said in a hushed, slightly miffed tone. I took a deep breath and tried to relax. It wasn’t that I was disgusted by him so much as I was surprised what his touch had done to me. I looked around the restaurant. Everyone who knew restaurants knew this place. I couldn’t believe I was here, walking through one of the most famous restaurants in New York, not to mention the priciest. Wealth oozed throughout the eatery.