Dad stood cross-armed and frowning on the porch when Damian and I came walking up to it, hand in hand. Damian said he'd wanted to meet him, since we somehow became exclusive in the span of a few days, and he wanted to know the other man in my life. He said it like a joke, but his tone and eyes made it seem like he was at least a little serious as well.
Damian held his hand out, sporting a charming smile as he introduced himself.
"Damian, huh," dad said, nodding as they shook hands. "I'm Mr. Hansen, and I own a hunting rifle. I think that's important for you to know, should you hurt my little girl."
"Dad," I warned, even though I was the only one of us that knew he was threatening a member of the Datoches mafia.
"I understand," Damian said, "but if I hurt her I might beat you to the trigger."
I swallowed. It had already gone south, and I wasn't sure how much I liked that revelation. But dad only laughed, and he put his hand on Damian's shoulder with a big smile. "I can like this guy, little one, he's got humor," dad said, and stepped aside to let us in. I wasn't sure whether he meant he'd shoot dad, or himself—but either way the thought made me nauseous.
After that first bump in the road, in my opinion, the rest of the lunch was good. Dad and Damian bonded over sports, both of them followed Formula 1 pretty closely, so they kept discussing the upcoming races, while I ate my salad and felt pretty good about the situation.
"We can't stay too long, we've got plans later," I said when dad pulled me aside after the food was all gone. I briefly saw Damian gather the dishes from the kitchen table before we rounded the corner, and dad looked at me for a good few seconds without saying anything.
Then he glanced around the corner and looked back at me. "You really like him?" he asked, his voice lowered. I nodded. "He's tattooed, he's muscly, his car is...damn, that car...I mean, he's everything your mom hoped you'd steer clear of, but..."
He trailed off, staring up at the ceiling as if he was trying to solve a hard problem. I tried to move around in front of him to get his attention back, and asked, "But what, dad?"
"But," he started again, running his hand across his face, "I like him, despite the fact that he seems a little...I don't know, wild? Just...be careful, little girl. I don't want you tangled up in some stuff you can't get out of."
I avoided his eyes and nodded. I put my arms around him in a hug, just to keep from lying to his face, as I said, "Of course I won't do that."
If only he knew how right he was.. I wouldn't be going back out of that house with Damian, if dad knew the whole truth. I wouldn't even be going back into the depths of the city. But he knew nothing, so Damian and I said goodbye and promised not to be strangers. Dad mentioned his hunting rifle again, Damian promised he wanted me to be happy, and we were off to our next date.
Dinner and lupines, he'd promised me.
I'd packed a small bag with some clothes, shoes and makeup, because it would take twice as long for him to drive from dad's to mine to Damian's, and then back to mine to pick me up; and Elina had volunteered eagerly to get me ready anyway. So Damian dropped me off at her house, and kissed me so deeply I could feel his need in my toes. I was flushed when Elina smiled knowingly at me and pulled me inside her house, to get me ready.
She dismissed my bag of clothing and shoved a very revealing, red two-piece at me. It had bands around the arms, and a slit so high it almost revealed my underwear, but as I looked in the mirror I understood why she wanted me to wear it. It was gorgeous. I paired it with my own shoes, a pair of black, strappy high heels, and Elina did my hair.
"You're gonna knock his socks off," she said as she waved her curling iron around, "or, preferably, his boxers."
I hit her side playfully, trying to hide the fact that I sincerely hoped she was right. "Thank you for doing all this, though." I smiled at her, and she smiled back, patting my head with her free hand before twirling another strand of my hair around the hot tool.
"That's what best friends are for!" She grinned widely at me, and leaned down, holding my hair in place. "But you know I'll want details, right? About everything. We're having lunch tomorrow."
I couldn't stop my laughter, just as I couldn't say no to her. It was already decided, and I was looking forward to it.
My hair ended up looking like I was going to a red carpet, rather than on a date. It was wavy, shiny and gorgeous. I'd never managed to get it like that before, and I always missed a tiny piece in the back when I wanted waves or curls. Elina was a natural—and I told her so, amongst an ocean of other praises and thank you's.
"You'll pay me back with deets," she told me firmly, nodding as if to reinforce her point, "tomorrow at one."
"I can't wait." I hugged her before we both heard the unmistakable sound of Damian's Audi outside, and I walked out as the engine stopped.
Damian stepped out of the car, clad in his usual dark shirt and suit pants, but with a red tie around his neck. Something told me Elina had something to do with that, and as I looked back she winked and grinned at me, before the door shut and I was alone with my mystery man.
"Holy fuck," he muttered as I came closer. His eyes were almost black, so full of lust and longing that I almost said we could skip the date and go back to his place. But I didn't. "You're the most beautiful being on the planet, Isabelle. Every time I see you, you make my jaw drop."
I thanked Elina for the makeup tips; my foundation and blush did a good job of concealing my real blush, and I looked up at him through my thick lashes.
"Thank you." I then bit my peach-coated lip and reached up to touch his tie. "You're making my heart skip a beat." I wasn't sure why I said it. It was true, of course, but that wasn't something one said out loud, was it?
Damian pulled a strand of my chestnut hair behind my ear, and smirked. "I almost want to take you home and peel this thing off right now, but...I made reservations."
I smiled. "I wouldn't mind."
It felt like I had the upper hand, but somehow I knew I didn't. He was always in control, and I loved that. He was easygoing, he spoke his mind, and most of all I loved that he didn't hide anything. Not even his dangerous side.
"I know you wouldn't, sweetheart," he said, his forehead touching mine, "but I promised you dinner."
"And lupines," I added, but the only response I got was a smile. Then he walked around the back to open up the trunk, pulling me with him by my hand.
I gasped.
Inside the back of his car laid bouquets of lupines in all colors. Pink, purple, orange, white and yellow. It was completely filled up, one even fell to the ground, and Damian picked it up and held it up to me. It was thick and full of life and color, and I loved it.
"You can have all the lupines you want," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to my temple. My heart skipped a beat when he did that, and I fought tears. It was the loveliest thing anyone had ever done. It was so precious, so pure and so...loving.
"Thank you," I managed to get out, and he chuckled before closing the trunk and leading me over to the passenger side. He opened up the door for me, held my bouquet as I sat down, and gave it back once my seatbelt was on.
"You can distribute them however you want. Some at my place, some at yours, maybe even sneak some into Elina and James' if it's too much." He grinned at me.
"It's never enough." I bit my lip to keep from smiling too wide, and smelled the lovely flowers in my lap as he closed the door and rounded the car.
It was the perfect start to the perfect date.
The restaurant was quiet, for a Sunday. I'd never been there before, but it was a lovely place filled with elegant curved wood painted white, red roses on each table—Damian politely asked if we could place my lupines on ours, which was done without question—and lovely music from a string quartet in the corner. It was wonderful. It was peaceful.
Damian sat across from me on our small table, swirling his wine with expert care, as I put the final piece of my exquisite coq au vin into my mouth. I'd never tasted one so full of flavor, and I made him promise to take me back some time.
"Maybe you should meet my dad," he said casually, taking a sip from his tall glass. "I'm having dinner with him next week."
A meeting with the infamous mafia boss Michael Strac sounded more intimidating than it probably was for him to meet Joel Hansen, car mechanic. But I tried not to seem like it made me nervous.
"I'd be honored," I said, earning a light chuckle from him.
"You're allowed to be scared." He looked around, not seeing anything in particular, so his eyes went back to mine. "He's a good man, despite what you might be thinking. It's my grandfather you'd want to be scared of, but he's long gone."
"I believe you." The words fell out easier than I thought, telling me they were probably more true than I thought as well. It was like he saw into my soul when our eyes met again. He smirked at me, setting fire to everything inside me.
Our waitress came back to collect our plates. "Do you want any dessert?" she asked, balancing the big plates on her arm.
Damian looked at me, in that way, and I shifted in my seat as he said, "Yes, please, we'll share a lava cake."
The waitress' face turned red, and she disappeared again without Damian seeming to notice. He leaned across the cleared table, tilting his head to one side, and asked, "If you could be anywhere in the world, right now, where would you be?"
The question surprised me, bringing me back to reality after his heated gaze lit me up from the inside. I thought about it, letting him believe I was thinking hard, even if I already had an answer in mind.
"I'd be—"
"Isabelle? Is that you?"
The heat was doused with icy water. My spine chilled—but not at all in the same way Damian made it chill—and my heart rate quickened. I turned my head to the side, and I saw him. He looked good, of course, his brown hair neatly styled into whatever was probably fashion, a white suit on his broad frame, and he was smiling. That charming smile that I used to love so much..
"Charlie," I replied, trying my best to sound polite. "What a surprise." I deliberately avoided saying it was a good surprise, because it undoubtedly wasn't.
"You look beautiful," he said, scanning me from my neck down. "You always do." He grinned, taking a deep breath, before clearing his throat. "I'm so glad I ran into you, I've been wanting to say I was sorry, I made a huge mistake, and—"
"Charlie, was it?" Damian's darkened voice boomed over my ex's as he got up and held a hand out. Charlie took it with skepticism in his eyes, and he was about to speak when Damian interrupted again. "Damian. I'm Isabelle's boyfriend."
Damian was half a head taller, just as broad, but I knew for a fact he was way stronger. My lips parted slightly as I watched the two of them shake hands. Charlie was the first to let go, and Damian grinned as the waitress came over with our dessert. He thanked her profoundly, making a point of the fact that we were sharing it, before setting it down on the table.
"I didn't realize," Charlie said, lifting his chin. "She looked so...lonely."
"I can assure you, she isn't lonely." Damian crossed his arms and nodded towards the exit. "I'd appreciate it if I could finish my date without any more interruptions."
"You let him control you?" Charlie stared directly at me. "Of course you do. You're still the naive, little girl that says yes as soon as anyone shows a little affection."
Damian stepped up, but I put my hand on his shoulder after I'd gotten to my feet, and I stood in front of the man that broke my heart so fiercely I never thought I'd glue it back together.
"He doesn't control anything," I said, "and unlike yours, his affection is real. You broke me, Charlie, and I will never forget it, but I thank you. Without it, I might've been stuck under your spell still, and I'd've never met this real man."
The words poured out of me. I didn't even know it was true until I said it. Damian's hand went around my waist, and I leaned into him. He didn't say anything, he just held me, and Charlie took another deep breath, running a hand through his hair.
"Sure," Charlie said, "Damian, was it? Nice to meet you. I'll see you later." He turned on his heel and walked out of the restaurant.
I sank into Damian's embrace, sighing into his warm security, and he held me. My body was exhausted from that tiny conversation, and I shook my head in silent exasperation.
"Aruba," I said after a while, looking into his dark, lovely eyes. His eyes were my safe space—my home. Wherever they were, I'd be home. "If I could be anywhere, I'd be in Aruba."