Wintertime Bad Boy: A Christmas Suspense Romance (Alphas Unboxed Book 3) Read online

  I peek over the top of the menu. “What are you getting?”

  Something akin to realization enters his eyes and he gives me a smile that has trouble written all over it. “I’m a regular here. They already know what I want.”

  I grit my teeth and stare down at the menu. Finally, I point my finger toward chicken enchiladas. It’s cheap enough not to seem like I want to spend his money and pricey enough that he can’t call me out on it.

  “I’ll get this.”

  Damien doesn’t say anything, just listening to my choice with a strange gleam in his eyes. I feel a little triumphant about finally getting the upper hand in something when it comes to him. However, that feeling goes downhill when the waiter arrives and Damien places the order.

  He orders a lot of dishes and wraps the whole thing with saying, “We’ll take the enchiladas to go.”

  I blink at him as he eases into his seat, his eyes on me. “Is that—What was that?”

  “What was what?” he asks, innocently, looking completely unfazed.

  I purse my lips together. “Why did you order so much food? I just asked for the chicken enchiladas.”

  “If you had ordered something better than the enchiladas, I wouldn’t have had to.”

  I have this urge to hit him and it’s taking all of my self-control to keep my hands to myself. Damien doesn’t miss the dilemma on my face and by the look of that arrogant smirk, he’s quite pleased with himself.

  I narrow my eyes. “I think it’s time you tell me who you are.”

  He stills and triumph fills me. Ha! Weren’t expecting this turn of events were you?

  He studies me, prematurely calm. “Who do you think I am?”

  I tilt my head, mimicking him. “I know you’re running from somebody and that you got attacked which means you’re in some sort of danger. But you’re clearly loaded but that isn’t helping you. So you’re a rich guy or more likely in the mafia or something, in which case, my ass is fried.”

  Damien watches me with a small smile on his lips, an emotion flickering in his eyes which reminds me of the first night I met him. “So, a criminal, perhaps?”

  I shrug, way past caring at this point. “Hey, if that’s the case, then I’m guilty of harboring a fugitive—”

  “Can’t be a fugitive if I’ve not been arrested,” he points out, reasonably.

  I frown at seeing the logic in his words. “That’s true.”

  “What else have you deduced about me, mon petit poussin?”

  He looks cheerful and I scowl at him. “This isn’t funny, you know. I can’t afford more trouble.”

  “And yet, you don’t push me away.”

  “I did!” I protest but the words sound half-hearted even to me and I sink into my chair, avoiding his gaze. “Well, I tried to.”

  “Mon chéri.” Damien reaches out to trace his finger over the back of my hand which is lying on the table. “If you really wanted to get rid of me, I would have gone, no questions asked.”

  I shoot him a suspicious look even as I tell myself to pull my hand back. “Really?”

  He nods, somberly, laughter in his eyes, and then adds, “But that’s getting a little difficult now.”

  “Why?”

  I shouldn’t feel this giddy.

  “Because I like you.”

  I gape at his strange confession and struggle with myself. “Well, I don’t like you.”

  “Sure you do.” He smirks at me. “In fact, I think you like me a little too much and you don’t know what to do about it.” He leans forward, his voice lowering to a timbre that makes my skin tighten with need. “I could show you, if you want.”

  My heart is beating too fast and I do the only thing I can think of. I cover his face with my hand and push him back. “I don’t think so, pal.”

  His tongue darts out and licks his lips and gives me a kiss in the center of my palm making me squeak out and retreat my hand. I cradle into my chest, shooting him an accusatory look.

  He just laughs.

  Asshole.

  The food arrives and with it comes Matt, his cheeks flushed.

  “Alex, I didn’t know you were here. Did you get the cake I sent you?”

  I can’t believe this is the same stoic faced boy that I met two weeks ago. He’s brimming with excitement and I make an apologetic face. “I’m sorry. Carson had already eaten it.”

  “Why are you sending her cakes?” Damien asks, a brow raised and if I didn’t know any better, the look that just flashed in his eyes, I would have called it possessiveness. Surely not.

  Matt shuffles his feet. “She said she liked my baking.”

  It’s strange to see someone his age so uncertain. It’s almost as if he’s never heard a kind word in his life. Or maybe I’m just over imagining things. But he’s endearing even if he was a snot faced brat to me the first two times we met.

  “I do like your baking,” I reassure him. “But you don’t have to keep sending me things.”

  When his face falls, I feel like I've just kicked a puppy, and I end up adding, hastily. “Unless you want to. I love sweets.”

  He brightens up again and my heart just melts at the sight.

  “Don’t you have other things to do aside from—” Damien begins, his tone a little off.

  I immediately cut him off. “Hey! Stop that!”

  He gives me a wounded look and I glower at him. “Leave the kid alone! You’re just like Carson, I swear.”

  “The brat—”

  I give Damien a look that I used to give my father when he refused to take his medicine on time. Surprisingly it works and has Damien muttering under his breath and looking away. It feels good to not always lose when it comes to him.

  I look at Matt and smile. “I hear you own this place. That’s really impressive. I can’t cook to save my life.”

  His eyes light up. “I can teach you if you want.”

  I open my mouth to say something but Damien immediately growls, an action so unlike his usual cocky self that it takes me aback. “No, you won’t.”

  I don’t know why I’m smiling so broadly but I just wink at Matt, mouthing, silently, ‘Definitely’.

  He snickers and looks so young in that moment that I feel like giving him a hug. However, he shoots Damien a look and then says, “I have to get back to the kitchen. I’ll see you when you leave.”

  The server has finished putting the food on the table and as they leave, I see Matt’s sleeve lift and I see a darkening bruise on his left wrist. My lips part but I see Damien shaking his head at me, a grim look on his face now.

  I wait for them to leave and then turn to look at him. “This is the second bruise I’ve seen on that kid. Is somebody—”

  “Matt’s a strong kid,” Damien says, his voice hard and even though his tone is strongly hinting that he doesn’t want to talk about this. I think of the bright look in Matt’s eyes and my heart clenches.

  “Is there something I can do to help?”

  Forget that I can’t even help myself at this moment.

  Damien doesn’t touch the food, his arms now crossed over his chest as he watches me in that inscrutable manner of his which makes me feel like he’s assessing me. The playful glint that had been in his eyes is gone now. There’s something grim in there as if he’s come to a decision. Finally, he says, “The kid doesn’t trust people easily. You’re the first person he met that he’s attached himself to, so quickly.”

  “I didn’t do—”

  “You were kind to him without expecting anything in return.”

  My jaw tenses. “It’s called being human.”

  He gives me a smile that doesn’t quite reach his lips. “Not everyone feels that way. I wonder if you would treat him the same way if you knew who he was? If you knew who any of us were.”

  The question makes me bristle. “He’s a kid. I would still be kind to him no matter who he is.”

  “What if I told you he’s the illegitimate son of one of the wealthiest families in this city? That his own family hates him and people who usually show him any sort of affection have a tendency of getting hurt?”

  I frown. “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would somebody get hurt just because they’re nice to him?”

  His words sound off to my ears, almost like a story.

  “You saved me and you protected Braden. What did that get you?”

  He’s reminding me of the incident from a few days ago, the day he left.

  I let out a forced laugh. “So what? People around you guys get hurt? Is that what you’re saying?”

  When he doesn’t say anything, I continue, a hint of uneasiness entering my tone. “That sounds like something out of a movie. Why would…?” But the look on his face has me falling silent and then I ask, feeling as if I’m missing something, “Why did you really ask me out to dinner, Damien?”

  Chapter 9

  Not once had I thought that Damien would try to push me away.

  The thought is something that would never have occurred to me because every time I meet him he takes every opportunity to get his hands on me. It’s just something that I was beginning to take for granted at this point. And yet, here he is, his motives clear to me, without him even answering my question.

  My chest is burning with something I might call disappointment or hurt, but I press down on it, keeping a light smile on my face. “Are you trying to show me that I shouldn’t get further involved with you?”

  He doesn’t say anything and suddenly his previous behavior from today seems almost fake and it hurts.

  Pain is something I’ve grown accustomed to.

  Or maybe I’m just being melodramatic at this moment because I feel like I’ve made a fool of myself. Although to be fair, he met me at a time that I was at my most vulnerable and I
chose to attach myself to him, subconsciously.

  Either way, I refuse to let him see how I’m feeling right now.

  So, my lips stay curved and my eyes are hard. “So, what is this? A farewell meal?” Once again, his answer is silence and it makes me want to reach out and shove him, to get some sort of—any sort of reaction from him. “You really didn’t have to go that far, you know. All you had to do was stop showing up and I would have forgotten about you.”

  That gets a reaction.

  His eyes flicker with anger and it pleases me to see that.

  Rat bastard.

  “For someone who always has something to say, you sure seem to be at a loss of words.” My tone is taunting, concealing the amount of hurt that keeps growing by the second. “Did you expect me to cry, Damien? I barely know you.” I shape my words to be intentionally cruel because I’m beginning to feel savaged inside. “We had a business transaction, something I kept reminding you of, consistently. You were the one who kept making a move on me.”

  “You never pushed me away, mon chéri.” Now, he speaks and he sounds cold.

  I shrug. “You’re attractive. I meant what I said about not sleeping with you while I took your money. I won’t be painted as a whore but it’s hard to keep resisting advances when you haven’t seen any action in a while.”

  Are those crude words spilling from my lips?

  Damien gets up and covers the distance between us.

  My heart is hammering in my chest, pain and desire beating at me, hurt flooding my system, hurt for a man who had, within just four days, begun to make my four walls seem like a home. Stupid, stupid girl.

  Damien reaches out his hand and curls it into my hair, yanking it back forcefully until I have to look up at him. A small gasp escapes me and he gives me a cruel look, one that is laced with anger.

  And yet, I don’t fear him.

  “I’m not paying you now, so maybe you should strip for me and I’ll show you some action.” His words are harsh blows and they make my skin flush. His eyes track the color as it goes down into my neckline and disappears under my shirt. “Go on. Since you can just forget me in a heartbeat, mon chéri, why don’t you bend over and I’ll leave you with one last memento of myself.”

  The man is furious.

  I should be terrified and yet I lift my hand and circle it around his wrist, my words soft. “Don’t be such a petty asshole. Get your hands off me.”

  He waits for a second and then releases me.

  I take my time to run my fingers through my hair, trying to swallow this shame, this pounding agony beating in my chest, and I stand up. Meeting his eyes is the most difficult thing I’ve ever done, but I manage it. “Don’t try to cheapen me, Damien.”

  There is barely an inch between our chests and I see the way his eyes flicker with an unnamed emotion and I slowly lift up my purse, and brush past him. I don’t know how I manage to keep my tone calm. “I guess I won’t be seeing you around. Goodbye.”

  Every step I take away from him is heavy, as if boulders are weighing me down but with each step, I realize that I’m stronger than I gave myself credit for. And that whatever this is, whatever this staggering sense of loss building up inside me is, I will survive it.

  I hear the crash of dishes behind me and even as I want to stop and turn around, I don’t.

  I exit the restaurant and then look around blindly, wondering how I’m supposed to get home. I take out my phone and realize that the battery is dying. I try to find a route home but before I can get the internet working, the screen turns black and I make a small sound of dismay.

  Hearing footsteps behind me, I whirl around, only to see Matt hurrying toward me. He has two bags in his hands. I don’t know what to say to him but he doesn’t give me an opportunity to speak as he says in a rush, “I thought you might like this.”

  I’m about to refuse but he pushes the bags in my hands, his cheeks red as he whispers, “I made these myself.”

  Nothing comes out of my mouth and he continues, looking wretched. “Carson will take you home.” A brief pause before he babbles. “I’m sorry, but this is for the best.”

  So, they all knew.

  Damien could have left how things were at Dr. Greer’s office but he chose to flirt with me, to make all sorts of lying promises, building up this throbbing hope inside of me and then he cut me off at my knees.

  He must really have to hate me to do something like this to me.

  That’s all I can think of.

  I don’t know why this hurts so much or why my eyes are burning, but it’s getting harder to breathe and my hands tighten on the bags. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll just—”

  He looks torn and then flings his arms around me. “I’m really sorry.”

  The words sound choked and they slice into my battered heart and I murmur, “Yeah. So am I.”

  When he releases me, he sniffles and then points toward a black car in the corner of the parking lot. “Carson is waiting for you there.”

  I bite my lower lip and turn around. Then I pause and look over my shoulder. “If you—If you get any more of those bruises, you come see me, okay? It’ll be our little secret.”

  His eyes widen and then he nods, his lips pressed together.

  He remains there until I enter the car.

  Carson doesn’t look affected in the least, as if he doesn’t know anything. He gives me a cheerful grin. “Is that food I smell?”

  I turn my head to the side because I feel the wetness slide down my cheeks and I mutter, “You can have it. Just drop me home.”

  He chatters about nonsensical things on the whole drive to my apartment, not that I hear a single word. And then as I exit the car, I leave the food there.

  I trudge toward my apartment and once inside, I lock myself in, and then sink to the floor, my back against the door.

  I can’t stop the tears.

  I don’t understand.

  I shouldn’t be this upset.

  I hadn’t lied when I had told Damien that we barely knew each other. And yet here I am sobbing like a baby over a man whom I ‘barely knew’.

  But the tears don’t stop.

  At some point, I manage to drag myself to my Iiving room and I see the brightly lit Christmas tree. My lips curve involuntarily, my heart still heavy, and I pick up the albums that I have been looking at nearly every night. Looking at those pictures of my family, it always soothes me. And I especially like looking at the young boy who holds me so protectively in his arms, a proud smile on his face.

  “If my brother were here, he’d beat you up, you bastard,” I say aloud to no one in particular. “And he’d make you cry.”

  I add the last part, viciously.

  If he were here.

  I spend an hour sitting next to the heater and the Christmas tree, just looking at the pictures when I hear the doorbell buzz. I get up to check and see the two large paper bags that I had left in the car.

  The next few days are chaotic at the hospital because a viral flu has spread and the hospital has become understaffed. Annie’s interference has kept Karen and the rest of her minions at bay. Apparently the whole matter with the patient document has been forgotten in the wake of this temporary epidemic. Every nurse is expected to put in overtime and I feel grateful for that because it just means that I can drag my ass home and fall on my face into a dreamless sleep.

  The one good thing that happens is that the money reaches my bank account and the first thing I do is hand over a large portion of it to Tim, the man to whom I owe money. It’s difficult to avoid his questions about how I got the money, his beady eyes filled with greed. However, I manage to get out of it without much of a fuss. Hopefully, that should repay a portion of my debt. I also paid four months worth of rent I owned. With those two things out of the way, I can breathe a sigh of relief.

  “We’ve got two incoming patients from the accident at Times Square.” Mathilda breezes into the emergency unit, her face tense. “Annie is on the way. It’s a bad one. Page the doctor on duty.”

  Fortunately Dr. Greer has already heard of the accident and he’s on his way.

  The emergency room bursts into activity the moment the two victims are wheeled in.

  “Prep them for surgery!” Dr. Greer orders, his face serious as he gauges their condition. Mathilda and I move quickly to do so and when the light on top of the door turns red, all we can do is wait.