Revenge Revealed Page 11

  “I’m going to give you a check, Luke, but this won’t be the last you see of me. I’m going to talk to Rachel. And you better tell her I’ll be there – soon. But right now I need to figure out what the hell happened to my sister.”

  Luke smirked.

  “We’ll see,” he replied, snatching the check from Damien’s hands. He seemed satisfied with the number before returning his dark blue eyes on the younger man’s face.

  “Rachel will see this as a payoff which is no more than what she was expecting anyway. No matter what you do from here, she won’t trust you. You’ve already shown her what a dick you are. This is just the icing on the cake.”

  Luke spun to leave, his words another painful slash through Damien’s crumbling life.

  “I would never desert my child, Vaughan. You’d do well to remember that.”

  “You don’t care about that baby any more than you cared about Rachel,” Luke growled. “Drop the act and crawl back under the rock you came out from.”

  Luke was gone then, leaving Damien to stare after him, heart thudding in his chest.

  Rachel is pregnant with my child, a child conceived out of a misguided sense of hate.

  This was the universe’s way of telling him that he and Rachel weren’t finished with one another, something he’d suspected for months. However he’d gone into their union, Damien had left Rachel somehow changed. He hadn’t expected the impact their short time together would have on him and deep down, he had clung to the hope that he might see her again.

  Now, fate had come knocking on his door to tell him that they weren’t done after all.

  I don’t give a shit what that bastard Luke says—I’m going to talk to Rachel and we’ll figure this out.

  But he knew he couldn’t go there until he had the entire story finally.

  He needed to go back to the roots and learn the truth before confronting Rachel.

  Even if that meant splitting open old wounds and finding out he’d been a pawn of his father’s—again.

  Whatever the outcome, Rachel deserved the truth. And one way or another, Damien intended to give it to her.

  The only question was, could she forgive him?

  Chapter 15

  There was something endearing about Remy’s fiancée. She had opened her arms, home and heart to Rachel, making her feel completely comfortable. Not an easy feat, to be sure.

  “I really appreciate you letting me stay here,” Rachel told the girl as she set a cup of chamomile tea before her. “Things are kind of a mess right now.”

  “You don’t have to explain,” Olive replied genially, her dark eyes warm. “I’ve seen my fair share of messes.”

  Rachel grunted and reached for the mug, her eyes darting around the condo.

  “I gotta tell you, I always thought I was going to be the one to marry Remy.” There was a teasing note in her tone.

  “I’m sure every little girl thinks she’s going to grow up to marry her brother’s best friend,” Olive conceded, grinning and unperturbed. Rachel nodded and exhaled.

  “Maybe that’s what happens when you grow up with serious daddy issues.”

  “Don’t get me started,” Olive laughed. She nodded toward the coffee table in the living room. “I’m in the process of doing a DNA search for my own father.”

  There was a home DNA test sitting openly on the table and Rachel sighed.

  “Do you really want to know the truth?” she asked. “I mean, if you’ve already gone your whole life without ever meeting the guy, what could the difference possibly be now?”

  Olive shrugged.

  “Closure, I guess?” she suggested. “The man who I thought was my father sold me to Remy – for under a half mil, I’ve gotta add,” she told Rachel with disgust. “I guess whatever I learn can’t be worse than that.”

  Rachel didn’t know whether to commiserate with the woman, or chuckle.

  Olive seemed to be over the trauma, as it hadn’t taken any prodding to get her to spill the tale, and she could swear that the woman was more disgusted by the amount she had been sold for, than by the ludicrous situation where a father sold his own child to an ex-Navy Seal, turned famous tattoo artist.

  “Sorry,” Rachel mumbled, settling on commiserating. “I guess we all have our crosses to bear.”

  Will my son want to know who his father is when he’s older?

  Rachel reasoned that at least she’d be able to provide him with that answer when the time came.

  Or maybe I’ll marry someone and my child will always think my husband is the father, like Olive’s mom did.

  She found herself sneaking a look at Olive, curious to know how her mother had gotten away with it for so long. From what Rachel had learned, Olive had not been treated well by the man she’d always thought to be her father.

  Then again, if she had been, she would have never met Remy. Lucky bitch, she thought without any real malice.

  “I don’t mean to pry,” Olive said lightly, “but what’s the deal with your baby daddy? All Remy will really tell me is that the guy’s an epic bastard.”

  Rachel shuddered at the ‘baby daddy’ phrasing.

  Good God. I’ve become a Maury show. Baby daddy. Jesus Christ.

  “It’s a long story but he won’t be in the picture,” she sighed. She thought of the hefty check, sitting uncashed in her purse.

  Luke’s words still echoed in her head.

  “He’s not interested in you or the baby,” her brother had said. “He’ll send you more money if you need it.”

  Rachel didn’t know why it had hurt as much to hear as it did. What had she really expected? That he was going to drop everything and declare his love for her? Beg for her forgiveness?

  Could you forgive him anyway? He never cared about you. That’s why you sent Luke instead of talking to him yourself. You knew this was going to be the outcome.

  His rejection of her ... again ... didn’t change the fact that she still thought about his dark eyes, roaming over her body, searching her face as if he could read into her soul as effortlessly as he read her body.

  What was he thinking? How could his plan ever have worked?

  There were still way more questions than answers and maybe that was what bothered Rachel the most—the not knowing.

  “Are you hungry? Remy will be home from the shop soon,” Olive said, rising from the island. “I can whip up some tacos or something.”

  Rachel stared at her, the question barely filtering through her mind.

  You can’t stay here either. These people have a life together. You’re a third wheel here.

  Remy wasn’t her brother and she couldn’t stay with Luke and Meredith. They were wonderful, but she needed her own space to learn how to live her life as a mother.

  “Rachel?” Olive asked, cocking her head to the side with concern. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said quickly. “I’m just thinking.”

  “I bet,” Olive chuckled. “But how do you feel about tacos?”

  “Sounds great,” Rachel agreed even though food was the last thing on her mind.

  I have to take that money and go back to New York, she thought. I can’t stay here in Detroit.

  “Rachel, you don’t have to make any decisions right now,” Olive said softly as if reading her mind. “You need to focus on the baby and nothing else right now.”

  “I am focussing on the baby,” Rachel said with determination. “That’s exactly what I’m thinking about.”

  “I know a good OB/GYN,” Olive suggested. “I can try to get you an appointment.”

  Rachel raised her eyebrows with suspicion.

  “Are you—?”

  “No, no,” Olive laughed. “We’re not having a baby until after I finish college. One more semester.”

  “Oh.”

  Rachel shifted her eyes away.

  “Thanks anyway but I’m not staying in Detroit. I already have a doctor in New York.”

  “The hell you’
re going back to New York!” Remy snapped, sauntering in through the front door. “How the hell are we going to keep an eye on you when you’re out east?”

  “It’s not that far away,” Rachel said, smothering a grimace. She hadn’t intended for Remy to hear her plans. Remy was just as protective of her as Luke so it was no wonder he expected her to stay too.

  “Rach, you have no one in New York,” Remy reasoned. “Your job isn’t waiting for you, you have no apartment—”

  “Gee, thanks for reminding me about all that’s gone right in my life,” Rachel said sarcastically. “I appreciate that.”

  “You know what I mean,” Remy insisted, ambling toward her, his eyes fraught with concern. “What if something happens to you?”

  She heard the underlying disapproval in his voice and suddenly she felt like she was eight years old again, being lectured by her teenaged brother.

  “I’m not a kid anymore, Remy,” Rachel shot back. “I can plan my own life accordingly.”

  “Did you plan to get knocked up by some psychopath with a vendetta?” Remy barked back.

  Dear God. Remy reminds me of Dad too. I really need to go back home.

  “Damien isn’t a psychopath,” she heard herself mutter. “He thought he was doing right by his sister. Just like you and Luke would have done for me.”

  She looked meaningfully at him.

  “And if you and Luke say you would have done any differently, you would be lying directly to my face.”

  “You think me or your brother would drag an innocent party into some skewed revenge plot? Knock her up and abandon her?”

  “Damien already thinks that’s what Luke did,” Rachel reminded him. “And here we are. Besides, he thinks that I helped push his sister toward her suicide attempt.”

  At Remy’s raised brow, she quickly explained, “I didn’t of course! I’m not sure why he thinks that, but someone in his family told him that I was involved.

  “Well, then he’s got liars in his family,” Remy argued.

  “I know that. And you know that. But we trust what our family tells us, right, Remy? Unless it’s Carter speaking, of course.” A delicate shudder worked through her as she thought of how truly untrustworthy her father had been.

  “Okay,” Olive said quickly, raising her hands. “Let’s not get into a heated argument over this. Rachel, do you want to help me in the kitchen?”

  Rachel shook her head.

  “No,” she muttered, feeling so overwhelmingly tired. “I’m sorry, Olive. I think I need to lie down for a bit. I’m tired.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Remy agreed in that authoritative way that made Rachel roll her eyes at him. “Get some sleep so you can think more rationally.”

  Rachel scowled at him but she didn’t bother to respond before storming toward the back of the loft and slipping into the spare bedroom.

  She hadn’t been lying—she was exhausted, and as soon as she lay her head on the pillow, sleep overcame her.

  Should I stay here until the baby’s born or go back home? She wondered, her palms caressing the swell of her womb.

  Why had she come in the first place? She could have easily asked Luke for help from New York. In fact, her brother had been forced to go to the east coast to confront Damien, hadn’t he?

  You came here because you don’t trust yourself to stay away from Damien, even after everything he’s done to you.

  The reality of the thought caused her eyes to fly open and she exhaled in a breath of nervousness.

  After everything this man has done, you still want to give him the benefit of a doubt he doesn’t want. You really do need all the help you can get.

  Misery embraced her and Rachel closed her eyes, reaching for the blanket to pull protectively around her.

  You need to stay here, she thought, succumbing to sleep. Tomorrow you can start looking for places.

  “Wake up, Rach.”

  Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up in confusion. Damien sat perched at her side, his brown eyes huge and concerned.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded, struggling to sit up but his strong arms pushed her back against the pillows, his breath warming her face.

  “I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he explained. “Why did you come here?”

  “Is this a joke?” she asked angrily. “You know why I came here! Look!”

  She tossed the blanket aside but to her shock, the baby bump was gone.

  “What did you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything!” he protested, lowering his head to kiss her lips. Eagerly, she reached up to pull him toward her, a familiar but almost forgotten burst of heat coursing through her.

  “No!” she thought she snapped, but the words didn’t leave her lips and she pulled him even closer.

  “I missed you, I swear I did!” he murmured, his words tickling the lines of her face as he dropped his head over the curve of her chin. His strong hands roamed over her, seeking out the contours of her body, lingering in every place that had been neglected since he had last been there.

  His lips trailed along her naked skin and she idly wondered where her clothes had gone. But even then, subconsciously, she knew she was in the throes of a dream.

  Don’t wake up, she pleaded with her subconscious. Please. You need this.

  His tongue continued along the flatness of her belly, legs rising around his ears for him to nuzzle against the soaked slit between her legs. A low moan escaped her lips and she arched her body upward to fill his mouth.

  “Oh god, I missed you,” she mumbled. “Even though you’re an incredible bastard.”

  He moaned into her clit, the feeling sending shockwaves through her system and bringing her higher toward the orgasm he always coaxed from her with such ease.

  “Why did you have to be such a bastard?” she moaned, the build up of release seizing her.

  “What if you’re wrong about me?” he asked, somehow still lapping at her with fervor. “What if this was all a mistake?”

  “I’m not falling for that — I fell for your stories one too many times.” she sighed, her legs quivering and with a cry of passion, she spilled against his waiting mouth, knowing that this was as close to Damien as she’d ever get again.

  Suddenly, he was gone and she was alone again, a deep sense of loneliness overwhelming her.

  A low sob formed inside her throat and grew into a cry of sorrow, which reverberated through the room.

  It was enough to rouse her from sleep and when her eyes opened for real this time, her face was stained with tears.

  Stop it! She growled to herself, stifling her sniffles with a hand before Olive or Remy could hear her. I can do this. On my own.

  But as she dried her eyes with the back of her hands, she couldn’t stop the dream from replaying in her mind.

  His words bounced around in her head.

  “What if you’re wrong about me? What if this is all a mistake?”

  Miserably, she swallowed her tears and released a long sigh of resignation. She wasn’t wrong and it wasn’t a mistake.

  She and her baby were still alone.

  Chapter 16

  Damien turned to his driver. “I won’t be long.”

  “Of course, Mr. Smythe.”

  As he rang Collette’s doorbell, he heard the cacophony of barking that his arrival had initiated. Soon, the pounding of large dog paws could be heard careening around the corner of the entrance.

  “Well, hello to you too, Icarus.”

  “Coming!” he heard his sister shout.

  “Damien?” Collette appeared on the porch, her eyes lit with confusion. “Is everything okay? Is it Dad?”

  “No, no,” he assured her, closing the distance between them. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine. Are you sure everything’s okay?”

  “Yeah, I just want to talk to you about something that happened a long time ago. Can we sit down for a minute?”

  “Of course.”

  Da
mien followed his sister inside the house, his mind whirling as she led him into the kitchen.

  “Want a beer or something?”

  He shook his head.

  “No,” he said. “I just want to talk to you about Luke Vaughan.”

  Collette’s eyes darkened and Damien instantly regretted he’d brought it up so abruptly.

  “What about him?”

  “Look, I know that whatever happened with you happened at a time when you were vulnerable—”

  “Vulnerable? I was a fucking basket case, Dam. You were too young to remember but I had a lot of issues back then.”

  “I remember,” Damien muttered uncomfortably. “Which is why I’m so reluctant to bring it up.”

  Collette chuckled softly.

  “You can talk about it. It’s embarrassing, not painful,” she replied, plopping onto a wooden chair to study his face curiously. “Not anymore, at least.”

  “Not painful?” he echoed. “You were a mess when Luke broke up with you. I…you tried to hurt yourself.”

  Collette’s face shadowed, but she kept eye contact with him. “Things were…tough, for me. Back then. I struggled – a lot. With depression, and some other mental issues, Damien, but it’s okay. I’m better now.” She smiled warmly at him as if she was trying to comfort him, instead of the other way around. “I’m really sorry you had to see that, by the way. I know I never…apologized before. Dad forbade me from talking to you about it. He said he’d handle it, and I was never to bring it up. But now…I don’t think that was really fair. I’ve learned a lot in recovery, and one of the things I’ve learned is that a person should never try to hide their condition, or even be embarrassed about it. Sometimes it really helps when it’s out in the open, you know? Granted, I was an emotional mess, but that was before I was properly diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Times were a little different then.”

  Damien swallowed, careful to choose his words properly.

  “What about the pregnancy?” he asked, looking away as he spoke.

  “What pregnancy?”

  His head raised sharply and he looked at her in disbelief.