VEGAS follows you home (19 page)

Felicity waves a hand, hailing a waiter to refill our drinks.

"Christ, Olivia." She shakes her head. "What are you going to do about him wanting Alex to call him daddy?"

I bury my face in my hands.

"I don't know. I mean, do you think it will confuse Alex or cause more problems?"

"He's only one, Olivia." She drinks from her fresh dirty martini.

"He's eighteen months, Felicity," I respond, sarcastically.

She rolls her eyes.

"Look, he's young and probably won't even remember when Damon entered his life. Hell, the first memory I have as a kid is when I was like four or five years old. I doubt you’re traumatizing him by introducing him to his father." She takes another drink. "He gets a dad. A rich daddy, at that. How is that a bad thing? I know a lot of people who wish they had fathers as kids."

"He's crazy," I choke.

She wobbles her head from side to side in contemplation.

"Maybe, but I don't let anyone stand in the way of what I want. Does that make me crazy?" Her brow rises.

"Sometimes, yes." I laugh. She throws a balled up napkin, but misses me.

"Plus, he's really, really fucking rich." She wiggles her brows this time. I throw the napkin back at her.

"Felicity, this is not about money."

She winks.

"Enough serious talk. You need to unwind." She slips from the dark red booth. "Time to dance the stress away."

Extending her hand out to me, I take it and allow her to lead me to the dance floor. Along the way, a couple of women who date in the same circles as Felicity glance at her longingly. When they see me, annoyance graces their features. I puff out my chest and proudly let them think I could land a woman as hot as Felicity.

As we step onto the dance floor, Felicity releases my hand.

"Let's shake it, Mrs. Knyght!" Giggling wildly, she starts to dance.

"That's not even funny," I shout over the music.

She laughs harder, bumps her hip into mine, and we both begin moving in time with the heavy beat.

After a couple songs, two men try to join us. Felicity plays along, dancing with a tall blond. The dark haired man attempts to move up close, but I try to keep distance between us.
I have enough man problems, buddy. I don't need you around right now.
But this guy doesn't want to take no for an answer. Grabbing my waist, he pulls me to grind against him. I shove his chest hard and open my mouth to curse the asshole when I hear a roar from behind me.

"Get your hands off my wife!"

"Sorry, man, didn't realize she was someone's. She's not wearing a ring." The guy releases me.

Turning, I come face to chest with Damon. His smell surrounds me and calms me for just a moment before the shock of him being here settles. How did he know where I was? We ate somewhere else before arriving at Felicity's favorite club.
He followed me!

"Did you follow me?" I shout up at him.

His eyes meet mine, but he stays stoic.

"You did, didn't you?" I shove at his chest.

"I kept away so I wouldn’t interrupt your night. I just wanted you to be safe," he starts to explain.

"So, you followed me! Why does this NOT surprise me?"

Felicity appears next to me and I turn to her.

"He followed me," I shout, disgusted.

She flinches at my loudness and I look back to Damon.

"Quit stalking me!" Growling, I stomp back to the table, Felicity on my heels.

"He's pretty hot when he's worked up."

Grabbing my purse, I give her my best
are you fucking kidding me
look. She puts her hands up in surrender. I kiss her cheek.

"I'll talk to you soon," I promise her.

"You sure you don't want me to come with you?" She grabs her purse.

"No, go home to Lorna and have a good night. I'll be fine."

I wave as I hurry toward the door, trying to lose Damon in the nightclub crowd.

"Olivia, wait!" Damon shouts over the crowd. He isn't far enough behind, so I pick up my pace.

My heels hit the concrete of the sidewalk and I immediately wave down a cab.

"My car is right here." The heat of his body presses against my back.

I ignore him and continue to wave at taxis.

"Quit ignoring me. My car is right here and it's safer than a taxi."

Spinning on my heels, I wobble for a moment before steadying myself.

"You think it's safer for me to climb into a car with a man who stalks me, is crazy obsessive, and possessive?" I shout, causing passersby to turn and look at us.

"I am not crazy," he growls. Wrapping one long, lean arm around me, he lifts and begins carrying me to his car.

"Put me down!" I scream.

His hold tightens.

"Help!" I shout. "Someone help me!"

"Will you stop making a spectacle of yourself?" he grumbles.

"Hey, put the lady down." One of the bouncers shows up as we near Damon's car.

"Stay out of this," Damon snaps at him.

"The lady doesn't want to go with you, so why don't you just set her down and—"

"Don't tell me what do to with my wife," Damon shouts.

"I'm not his wife," I yell.

"God damn it, Olivia!" Damon sets me down on my feet and holds me by my arms. "Stop this and get in the car," he demands, looking intent and severe.

"No, leave me alone!"

Suddenly, a wave of dizziness hits and I sway.

"You're drunk," he groans.

"I am not."

"I have a cab right over here she can take." The bouncer walks toward us, taking my arm. "If you do know her, then you will be able to find her where she lives."

As the bouncer leads me away, I look back at Damon and smirk. With a little wave at him, I climb into the taxicab and head home.

By the time I pull up to my home, the alcohol is in full effect.
What the hell was I thinking?

After paying the driver, I stand at the bottom of the steps leading to my apartment. I groan. The thought of climbing those stairs in this condition is not ideal, especially in heels. Holding the railing, I pull my heels off each foot with my free hand. Heels in hand, I prepare to tackle the climb when the feeling of weightlessness takes over.

"What are you doing? Put me down," I growl.

"I'm helping you get up the steps without falling and breaking your neck," Damon grumbles, carrying me bridal style.

"Why can't you just go away?" I whine.

"You're my wife and I'm taking care of you," he states, his voice barely above a whisper.

He sets me on my feet by the door and looks down at me. Our eyes lock, his breath warms my upper lip, and he presses closer. My breasts warm as his chest presses against me. His head dips close.

"I'll show you, prove to you, that we belong together."

The closeness, his scent, the pure sexuality pouring off him in waves, messes with my head. Dropping my heels to the ground, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull his lips to mine. My fingers find their way to his hair, the tips of each clawing into his scalp and pulling him closer. His arms embrace my waist, bringing me firmly against his body. We devour each other's mouth and my back lands hard against the door. The sudden hit jars my intoxicated ass back to reality. I push at Damon's chest and he steps back.

"Oh my God," I gasp. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have…that was…oh my God, what is the matter with me?"

I cover my mouth with my hand.

"Don't apologize." Damon leans closer.

"No, no, no. That shouldn't have happened. I don't want to give you the wrong impression." I shake my head.

My hands press against his chest once more as he leans down. His lips graze my ear.

"Feel free to give me the wrong impression." His lips press against my neck, causing a shiver to form at the base of my spine. I fight it.

Pushing him back, I put at least a foot of space between us this time.

"It won't happen again."

Turning, I open the door and enter the apartment, leaving his grinning ass outside.

Olivia

I roll over in my bed and the movement makes my stomach swish, causing me to moan in discomfort. The tap on my door is not welcome.

"Go away," I grumble.

I hear him chuckle before I feel the shift of my mattress.

"How are you feeling?" he asks quietly, yet with a hint of smugness.

"Shh."

His silent laughter shakes the bed, causing me to groan. I open one eye and he smiles, motioning toward two white pills and a glass of water on my nightstand.

"Those will help."

"Thanks," I mumble.

"Finish off the water and I'll bring you coffee." He stands from the bed and leaves the room.

Pulling myself into a half-sitting position against my headboard, I chase the two white pills with a sip of water. After a few more minutes, I chug down the full glass. Waiting about five minutes, I finally drag my ass out of bed and haul it to the bathroom. The hot water feels good, but doesn't fix my wretched nausea.

Trudging into the kitchen, the much appreciated smell of coffee fills my senses. I quickly pour a cup and I start to sip before it's cooled, burning the tip of my tongue.

Alex sits in his highchair, chewing on lumps of toast and humming. Damon sits reading a newspaper at the table. Being sure not to make eye contact with Damon after my actions last night, I kiss the top of Alex's and head for the bakery stairs.

"What, no impressions to give this morning?" he calls at my retreating form.

I quicken my pace and stop midway down the steps. Groaning, I lean my forehead against the wall. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," I chant before calming the embarrassment flushing my heated face.

Thankfully, my work schedule keeps me busy enough to prevent me from thinking too much about my stupidity. About the feel of his soft, full, mouth on mine. About the way his body, firm and strong, felt pressed against me.
Damn it!

When the day is over, I stick around to help clean up, even though it isn't my turn. Greg gives me curious glances, while Sarah smiles knowingly.

"I'm just helping out," I answer Greg's unasked question.

With nothing left to clean, I slowly walk up the stairs. On the top step, I pause and take a deep, fortifying breath before pushing myself to enter.

Olivia

The next few days fly by without him saying anything else about ‘the doorstep incident’. Sure he’ll use the moment of weakness against me, I've been tense and on edge each day. I find it more unnerving that he hasn't.

Finally, the morning of Damon's departure is here and I'm anxious to get Alex and my home returned to normal. A thud by the front door snaps me out of my thoughts.

"Well, that's it."

He sighs and looks to Alex, who’s sitting in his highchair, eating banana pieces. Then, his gaze locks on me. His eyes reveal a storm of emotions, causing a pang of guilt and pity in my chest. When I say nothing, his shoulders drop.

"I need to get going if I'm going to make my flight in time." Raising his chin, he looks longingly at me.

Nodding, I give him a small smile, but I don't move from my spot against the kitchen island.

"Have a safe trip," I finally say.

"Mon!" Alex shouts and giggles.

Damon walks to Alex and kisses his forehead.

"I'll see you soon, little buddy." His large hand cups the side of Alex's head.

The pang strikes me again and I have to look away.

"Do I get a kiss goodbye?" Damon surprises me by being so close. "Or, can I at least get the impression you left me on your doorstep?"

And there it was, the bastard.

"Ha-ha." My words are laced with sarcasm. "Have a safe trip," I repeat and smile small.

His hand cups my face, causing me to stiffen.

"What?"

Swooping in fast, he presses his lips to mine and lingers there for a moment before pulling back.

"I'll see you soon?" It was more a question of reassurance than a statement.

Fear, sadness, and pain swirl in his eyes. He drops his hand from my face and walks toward the door. Pausing only to pick up his bags, he leaves without looking back.

The click of the door closing sends a wave of emotion through me. It wasn't only the relief I'd been expecting.

"Mon?" Alex calls out. "Mon?" He tries to push out of his chair.

I set my mug on the counter and calm him into sitting back down.

"It's just the two of us again, little man."

I thought I would feel more satisfaction by saying the words out loud; instead, there was sorrow and guilt I didn't understand. Panic set in, but I couldn't comprehend what I was panicking about.

My cell phone beeps. Grabbing it from the counter, I open the new text.

Damon: Please don't back out.

He's so afraid we won't show in New York. I'm scared he won't sign the papers and this is all a ploy to keep us in his life.

The week without Damon passed by in a blur of Alex making monumental strides in life, bakery orders, and an oven disaster. I almost cancelled the trip to New York, but Mercedes assured me things were covered.

So, here Alex and I stand, trying to get through airport security. Alex didn't want to stand still and wouldn't stay in his stroller. In an attempt to occupy him, I convinced him to help me push the stroller. He swiped two strangers' legs, rammed three ankles, and even pulled the stroller until it laid wheels up on the floor.

"Alex, baby, please. You need to stay still for Mommy right now. Okay?" Kneeling down to his level, I try pleading.

"I tired," he yawns.

Alex had taken his time to start talking, but now it was hard to get him to be quiet.

"Climb into the stroller." I motion to the seat.

Finally, he sits down. I strap him in and give him his favorite picture book.

We reach the checkpoint and I place our carry-on bags on the belt. I push the stroller toward the metal detector when the security officer holds a palm up before I can step onto the black mat.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but you need to collapse the stroller so we can scan it."

I just got him back in it,
I groan, internally.

After taking Alex back out of the stroller, I fold it up and place it on the belt. The officer motions for us to walk through. I nudge Alex to go first and I follow.

Once we clear the scan, I gather our things, put our shoes back on, and unfold the stroller. Luckily, Alex climbs back into the seat without much fuss, so we are able to catch the next transport to the terminal.

The gate attendant announces boarding will start in about twenty minutes, so I make the mad dash to the restroom. I clean Alex up from his snack and sit him on the potty. While keeping a hold of Alex's shirt, so he doesn't try to peek or crawl under the stalls, I hurry to use the restroom. I have to hiss out his name a couple times and give him a
don't make me beat you
look during one escape attempt.

Once we are both washed up and back at the gate, I see people lining up and waiting for further instruction from the gate attendant.

"Would any families with children please approach the gate for boarding?"

At the announcement, I usher Alex in the direction we need to go. Still holding onto his shirt, we inch closer to the attendant taking the tickets.

Once the stroller is tagged and left for loading, we step onto the plane. The flight attendant takes our tickets and motions to the seats in first class.

"You're right here." Smiling brightly, she offers assistance with loading our carry-ons in the overhead space.

"What?" I choke, grabbing the ticket stub back and really looking at the seats. Knowing we would board early, I didn't even pay attention to the seating.

"I can't believe him," I mutter, placing Alex in his own first class seat.

Still grumbling about the expensive seats, I sit down and place the backpack under the seat in front of Alex.

Of course, Alex doesn't want to sit still. Instead of sitting, he is standing and looking at the people behind us. Begrudgingly, I have to be thankful for the first class spacing.

Alex is less than thrilled about take-off and begins to cry from the cabin pressure change. However, once we are able to use electronic devices and he can watch his Scooby Doo DVD, everything is better and I am able to relax for the rest of the short flight to JFK.

"We are about fifteen minutes from JFK and will be arriving on time. It is currently four-twenty in the afternoon and seventy-two degrees. Thank you for flying with us and enjoy your time in New York."

The captain's announcement rouses me and the rest of the cabin, except Alex, who is still sleeping soundly.

He's going to be so pissed when I wake him up.

Sighing, I start packing up the DVD player, books, and toys.

We are instructed to return to our upright positions and prepare for our final descent. The plane hops a couple times, but it’s a smooth landing overall. Screeching tires wake Alex from his nap, his eyes wide. I wrap my arm around him and he burrows into my side.

As we wait to exit the plane, I check my phone for messages.

"Holy crap," I mutter as the phone blinks and buzzes in my hand.

"Crap," Alex mocks. Yet another wonderful habit he picked up — mimicking.

"That's not a nice word, Alex. Mommy is bad for saying it."

He just smiles.

Turning my attention back to the screen of my phone, I scroll through the messages.

M: Hope the flight went well. Let me know when you've made it.

I sent a quick text letting Mercedes know we were good.

Damon: Let me know before you take off.

Damon: Have you boarded the plane?

Damon: Please answer me.

Damon: Are you coming? Mercedes said you left for the airport.

Damon: Let me know when you've arrived.

Damon: Have you landed?