Dirty Little Secrets

Ch. 4: The Hidden Truth

DAMON

And Now

What the fuck?!

Heaving, I whip my suit jacket across the foyer of my penthouse, garnering a startled gasp from Josephine. She left! She just left? Who does she think she is? I am Damon fucking Cavanaugh, and I have never in my thirty-three years of living on this God-forsaken planet had a woman disregard me. Say no to me. Fucking dismiss me!

I'm out of practice. That must be the problem. That's the only logical explanation for whatever the hell it was that unfolded at Lux. Something's are not for sale. Hah. What a joke. She's a comedian. An alluring, tantalizing, intoxicating fucking comedian. She spoke to me like I was beneath her like I was just another greasy, groveling, generational-wealth simp. I should forget about her. Her sultry voice. Her lascivious lips. Her deep, secretive stare. And I should definitely forget about the fleeting moment in which our eyes locked, and I felt alive, for the first time in years.

"Damon, what is wrong?" Josephine skitters into the living room and picks up my jacket, her forehead creased with worry. "Did the meeting go bad? They won't sign?"

"Of course, they'll sign! Do I look like an idiot to you?" I bark, storming into the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of Perrier out of the fridge. I twist the cap and chug half the bottle before whipping my fuming head at Josie. "Well? Do I? Do I look like an idiot, Josephine?"

She blinks, fiddling with her rosary. "I—"

"Because she sure as hell treated me as one," I continue, pushing past Josie as I streamline toward the sectional and collapse down. "Worried you'll lose?" I mimic the vixen's stupidly seductive tone. "The audacity to speak to me like that! The client relations at that establishment have clearly taken a detrimental turn. I'm surprised Georgina isn't bankrupt by now."

"Ah..." Josephine hums, a wide grin stretching across her aging face. "Por fin."

I give her a deadpan glare. "You're smiling? I am clearly in distress and you are smiling?"

"Yes, mi ceilo, I am smiling—" Josephine sucks in a breath of relief as she waddles to the foot of the couch. She places her hand on my shoulder. "It has been many moons since you've shown this type of emotion."

"You are pleased that I am angry?" I ask, huffing like a fucking child. "How inappropriate."

Josie shrugs. "Yes, I am." She bends down, kissing my cheek. "It is better for you to be angry than to be void of all feelings. Plus—" She pats my head. "I sense a woman is at the root of your current attitude, which—" She grins even wider. "Is very pleasing indeed."

I swat her hand away. "She is not a woman." Sulking further into the couch, I mumble out, "She is the devil."

"Ay, ay, ay," Josie clicks her tongue, sighing. "The devil? Por qué? She did not want to go home with you? That now makes women devils?"

"I am not discussing this with you anymore," I grunt. "Don't you have laundry to wash or something?"

"Little shit." Josephine smacks me upside the head. "It's 2 a.m., I am going to sleep now. The only reason I stayed awake was to make sure you got home safe." She mumbles a couple of curses at me in Spanish as she walks to her room. "Dios ayúdame..."

"Fuck!" I swallow my pride and call out after the woman who raised me alongside my parents, "Lo siento, Josephine. I didn't mean—"

She whips around, fists planted on her hips. "I make your food, Damon. It would be wise to keep me happy, otherwise—" She shrugs. "Who knows what could happen?"