He’d taught me so much in the time I’d known him. Damien took me from being a naïve girl and turned me into a complete woman. Thank God I’d met him. If I’d married Rafe I never would have known how fantastic sex could be. And it wasn’t just the act itself; it was all the mind stuff Damien did too. The time in the men’s room in Paris when we could have been busted at any moment – Rafe would never have even dreamt of doing something so wild and insanely risky.
Being with Damien was such a buzz. I was sure I loved him, and I was fairly confident he loved me too. If I could guide him over the rocks of his insecurities we could enjoy the beach on the other side –The two of us, together.
It didn’t take long before I heard Damien grunt and felt the girth of him pulse between my lips. He poured into my mouth, filling me so quickly with his essence that threatened to spill out of me if I didn’t keep swallowing.
Even then I had to rush to the bathroom to repair my makeup and tidy my hair from where Damien’s fingers had held my head. I also had to wipe any tell-tale traces of what had gone on from the corners of my mouth and my chin.
“We nearly got caught,” Damien whispered later when I kissed him goodnight at the door. “You just got out of there before your father walked back in.” He grinned at me, eyes sparkling. “You’re getting as bad as me,” he said. “Worse in fact. I don’t think I would have taken it as far as you did.”
“I want you tomorrow,” I replied, squirming my body against Damien’s. I laid the flat of my palm against the bulge in his pants. “I want you to do bad, dirty things to me over your desk tomorrow.”
Composing myself after watching Damien walk down the driveway I shut the door and walked into the lounge.
“Nightcap?” my father asked as he held up the whisky bottle.
“A small one,” I replied, and then spent an hour alone with my father.
It seemed like we were back on track. My father revealed he liked Damien but added, “I have reservations, Kylie. He could turn out to be a great guy, just right for you, but you look after yourself.”
“I will, dad,” I nodded. I yawned. “I think I’ll go and take a shower before I go to bed. I’ve got work tomorrow so I don’t want to stay up too late.”
The following day in Damien’s office Alexandra brought in the coffee and newspapers as usual.
Tucked away inside the folds of the LA Times was a trashy tabloid with the screaming headline: KYLIE CLARK HITS THE CLUBS WITH HOLLYWOODS HOTTEST.
Damien picked up the rag between two fingers, disgust curling his upper lip while all I could do was boggle at the outrageous lie.
“What is this>” Damien spluttered, obviously outraged. “You wanted to stay with your dad last night. That’s what you said.” His icy tone was reflected in the cold glint of steel in Damien’s eyes. “And I fell for it. After everything you said to me you go and pull a stunt like this.”
“Oh my God,” I heard Alexandra gasp when she picked up the newspaper and saw the picture accompanying the banner headline.
“I can’t fucking believe this,” Damien blurted.
Before I could react, before I could even make sense of what had occurred in the last twenty seconds, Damien had stormed out in a fury.
I sat there, too shocked to move.
6
Numbed by shock I sat in Damien’s office, literally so surprised at the lies in that rag of a newspaper that I couldn’t move. I could hardly even breathe. It was just so staggeringly untrue. And then there was Damien’s reaction. Had he really looked at me that way and just stormed out?
Eventually, hands and legs shaking, I got up and took one of the containers of coffee that Alexandra had brought in with her when she’d dropped the newspapers on Damien’s desk. I felt sick as I sipped at the coffee, the cup wobbling in my shaking hand.
The tabloid was there, its headline still screaming it’s totally untrue message: KYLIE CLARK HITS THE CLUBS WITH HOLLYWOODS HOTTEST. Hot anger suddenly dispelled the greasy feeling in my stomach. It was an outrageous slur, I’d never been near the club – How could I when I’d been at home with my dad all last night?
Desperate for clues I picked up the newspaper and, with a shudder of distaste, looked for the writer’s by-line. Maybe if I got in touch with whoever had written this piece of libelous crap I’d be able to track the source. When I saw the photograph that alleged to be me I saw it didn’t even show the woman’s face, it was just a photo of a woman from behind. Then, as I studied the detail I noticed, in the background, that some of the people that were gathered around looked familiar. Did Jenny…