The Husband Beside Me(23)

“Thank you,” Daimon said, taking my hand as he led me through this wondrous place.

Dark wood and numerous chesterfield couches lined the front room. My eyes wandered around finding various people sitting down, in quiet corners, enjoying elegant-looking drinks. We passed a kitchen area, which housed all the mixologists and their tools and finally reached what they called The Parlor. Dark purple suede couches were positioned in front of each other, creating private areas with long velvet curtains that can be drawn back for more privacy. Daimon took me to the last compartment area and sat me down. Once he did, a waiter came in with a platter of various small appetizers. Blackberries, olives along with grapes, and chocolates lay before us. The waiter nodded as he walked away.

“I guess you come here often,” I said, looking around.

“With Rafe and Darren. Not so much with Darren right now,” Daimon explained as he leaned back watching me. I took off my coat and sat more comfortably in my seat. I saw the menu which was to the side of us and picked it up.

“You’re paying, right?” I asked, smiling at him.

“Don’t I always?”

“Just making sure.”

“Are you ready?” The waiter who had previously served us came right back.

“Yes. I’ll have my usual. My wife will have…” Daimon waited.

“The Glenmorangie, neat.”

“Very good choice,” the waiter said, and then left to get our drinks.

“Why did you want to bring me here? This obviously is your place. Why would you want to associate me with it?” I never understood Daimon’s thought process or why he behaved the way he did.

“It’s where I like coming to have a good drink with good company,” he said.

“Don’t you like going to Darren’s?”

“Not really. I only went because I knew you were working there,” he said, watching me carefully.

“But Darren’s your friend. Why wouldn’t you want to go there?”

“Darren was my friend and I don’t like having to feel indebted every time I walked in there. Darren never once took my money and I hated that.”

The waiter came back with our drinks and placed it on the small table that jutted out of the wall. Once he was done, he pulled back the curtain and we were left isolated from the rest of the speakeasy.

“I need to make things right with him. I just don’t know how,” I said as I picked up my drink.

“You don’t.” Daimon lifted his glass and raised it to me before he drank his scotch.

“I can’t do that, not after everything he’s done for me.” Taking my first sip of whiskey, spicy notes and a minty finish was exactly what I was looking for in a good whiskey.

“Darren wants you and I don’t fucking share.” Daimon put his glass down and scowled.

“But you think I do. Anyway, it doesn’t matter what you think. A deal is a deal. Don’t let what I did a few days ago interfere in your little trysts. Just as long as I don’t see them, I won’t care.” I looked at Daimon angrily. My words did not match the face I had put on.

“I told you already, that I wouldn’t. Believe me if you want, I don’t care, but the one thing I do care about is you seeing Darren. I forbid it.” Daimon stared at me with icy blue eyes.

“You forbid it? Daimon you can’t control everything about me.”

“I can try.”

“I feel sorry for you if you think that actually works.” I picked up my drink and took a sip.

“With most women it does.” He continued to stare at me as he sat across from me. I could feel the intensity of his body as he moved from his seat and sat next to me.

“Well, I’m not most women,” I said, ignoring his presence that was towering over me. “Promise me, you won’t see Darren.” He peered down at me.

“I can’t promise that. Unlike you, who I have no faith in, you should at least have some faith in me. All I want to do is talk to him. Iron things out,” I admitted.

It was true; seeing Darren the way he was at the wedding broke my heart. He was always there for me, but it was my fault for not seeing how much I had hurt him. I needed to at least make it better somehow.

“You are so frustrating. Why can’t you just sit at home and spend my money? Who cares about Darren and how he feels?”

“This isn’t about me. This is about you and that woman from the wedding. Who was she?”

“Nobody.” Daimon went cold and rigid as he moved away from me and picked up his drink, finishing it off.

“Why can’t you just let me in?” I asked, hurt that he kept skirting the issue.