Tattooed Emotions Part 5

"You're one of those people who arrive thirty minutes early to everything, aren't you?" His right brow curved upward into an inquisitive arch. It caused a wild stray hair to fall onto his forehead.

I resisted the urge to reach forward and push it back into place. No contact with Damien would be the safest for the s.h.i.+eld around my heart.

"Yep." I chuckled and pointed my finger at him. "But at least I'm squeaky clean around the house. That has to count for something, right?"

"Good point." He joined in my mirth. His laughter was a stunning sound to my ears. It was infectious and the kind that made one smile just for being privy to hearing it.

"You should laugh more often," slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it.

Maybe he did, and I just didn't know him well enough to know any better.

I regretted my comment instantly as Damien pressed his lips together and swallowed.

"Why is that?" he asked.

My fingers began to make work of what was left of my straw wrapper again, and I confessed, "It makes you less intimidating."

His expression turned to surprise. "You find me intimidating?"

I felt my face heat. "Very much so."

The planes of his features hardened fractionally. "Sometimes, there isn't much to smile and laugh about in life."

I couldn't argue with him there, so I subtly nodded my head in agreement. Again, I grabbed my wine as a distraction. "So, what about you? What are your strengths and weaknesses?" I questioned, disturbed by how eager I was to hear his answers.

Damien raised his hand and ran it back and forth across his jaw. I could tell he was thinking deeply.

"Well, with my companies, I have a canny ability to keep calm and delegate orders when the time calls for it. I have a bachelor's in business management, and it has served me extremely well thus far in life."

"And your weaknesses?" I pressed in a teasing voice to maintain a light atmosphere.

"Oh, there are too many to list."

There was no way I was going to let him off the hook so easily with his evasiveness, so I playfully narrowed my eyes at him. "You're going to have to do better than that."

He was quiet for a few moments, seeming lost in his own mind. Just when I finally thought he wasn't going to answer me, he told me, "I constantly need to have control."

His response should have unnerved me, but for some inexplicable reason, it didn't. Instead, it left me reeling, and I found myself wanting to crawl out of my isolated protective bubble as my curiosity about this mysterious man across from me increased.

I licked my lips and dug deep for my courage, staring straight into the depths of his grays. "You need it or thrive on it?"

His eyes held mine captive. "Need it. In all aspects of my life."

That sounded like a loaded statement. Before I could process my thoughts, the waitress suddenly appeared with our meals and placed them in front of us. I was instantly grateful for the interruption because I wasn't sure of how to reply to his statement.

My chicken alfredo smelled divine, so I wasted little time in adding a dash of salt and pepper before diving into my meal. Damien and I fell into a comfortable silence as we began to eat. I found myself longing to learn more about him, but at the same time, I was equally apprehensive to do so. It was confusing, to say the least.

"So, are you originally from here?" he asked me in between bites.

"No."

"Where's home then?"

I twisted my fork to twine the long noodles around the metal while pondering. The easiest explanation was that I didn't have one. My home was where I'd made it seven years ago with Iris here in Sarasota when my foster family had kicked me out of their house and left me to fend for myself. I had no idea where I was born or who my birth parents were, except my biological mother had left me a large amount of money in a bank account. I'd received it five years ago after she'd apparently pa.s.sed away. None of that would make good conversation over dinner.

"Here," I finally answered, knowing that I was a walking contradiction of my last comment.

Damien must have agreed with my internal thoughts because his eyes darted up to mine. His face contorted in confusion. "But you just said you're not from here."

"I'm not."

"But you just said..." He trailed off, as if waiting for me to clarify.

"I know." I reached for my wine and sipped on it, needing it to soothe me. "This is my home now, and that is all that matters. My past is of no importance," I finished softly before biting my lower lip to keep it from trembling.

I was thankful that Damien didn't ask me to elaborate as we both resumed eating our meals. We switched to a more neutral conversation, talking about the erratic Florida weather, our favorite beaches, and the places we each dreamed of visiting someday in the future.

Other than sharing a common interest of the outdoors, I learned that we were actually complete opposites of one another. Damien loved to read business magazines while I preferred art-related ones. He religiously ran and worked out to keep in good shape while I sadly despised my treadmill or vigorous regimens. It seemed that he was an optimist, whereas I was a realist.

An hour pa.s.sed in the blink of an eye, and I was on my second gla.s.s of wine. I pinched my index finger and thumb around the stem and began to spin the gla.s.s within my grasp. This was starting to feel like Damien was getting his way, making this evening more of a date than a business meeting. It was time to cut to the chase.

"So, are you going to tell me why you asked me here, Damien?" I queried, repeating my earlier question. It was time to get this evening over with, so I could rush back home into my worry-free safe zone, away from the intimidating Damien Heathman.

He intently eyed me across the table, as though he were gathering his feelings and piecing them together, before he said, "You said something to me in our conference meeting yesterday that changed my perspective." He hesitated, looking straight at me.

The seriousness of his tone made me feel on edge as I wondered where this conversation was leading.

"And what was that?" I asked softly.

"You said that numbers never lie, and it made me contemplate where I want to go from here."

"No, they don't," I agreed truthfully. "But I feel like you're talking in circles."

"I'm sorry. That's not my intention." He leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on the table. Those grays stared into my greens, his sparkling from the glow of the fireplace. "I need to ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me."

My pulse spiked, and my head was spinning. "Okay," I answered simply.

"Are you f.u.c.king him?"

"I beg your pardon?" My posture went rigid as I felt utterly caught off guard at his bluntness and arrogance. I was pretty sure my jaw had hit the table, too. But I still didn't understand what he meant or whom he was referring to. "Am I f.u.c.king whom?" My tone was hard.

"Cale Adam." My partner's name left his mouth, plagued with distaste.

My blood pressure ignited, and my body trembled with rage. Once again, I clamped my steel armor tight around my heart, locking it firmly in place. He has some b.a.l.l.s. I'll give him that.

I prided myself on being a lady with proper manners, but today, I would make an exception. Rising from my seat, I leaned forward to set my palms flat on the table, and I looked him square in the eyes. "f.u.c.k you, Damien."

His expression appeared shocked as I spun on my heels to make my escape. Damien managed to gently catch my arm before I had even made it three steps.

"Let go of me," I hissed, spinning around on my heels to shove at his chest.

"I'm going to a.s.sume that's a no," he whispered discreetly, pulling his brows together.

"Of course it is!" I snapped. "I would never sleep with my business partner. He's married!" I didn't know why I had answered his stupid question because I certainly wasn't answerable to him, yet I wanted him to know the truth while defending my pride.

"I'm sorry, but I had to ask, so I could understand." His apology was full of genuine regret.

I was too livid to accept it. "Understand what?" I laughed humorously. "That you're an inconsiderate a.s.shole?"

"No," he drawled before tugging his lower lip between his teeth. "Well, maybe that, too." He shrugged, appearing guilty. "Sometimes."

"You're failing to redeem yourself here, Damien."

"I know," he said empathetically, gesturing to the chair. His eyes pleaded with mine. "Please sit. Let me explain."

"Why on earth would I do that?"

"Because I have some insight to share with you about my working relations.h.i.+p with your company, and you really do need to hear it."

My mind fought an internal war. I wanted to run more than anything, like the first time when I'd met Damien, yet something inside of me told me to hear him out. "Five minutes. That's it, and then I'm gone."

He was silent for a brief moment before he exhaled. "All right. But you have to promise me that you'll let me explain and keep an open mind while I do so."

I stepped into his s.p.a.ce, ignoring the way my heart skipped a beat. "Only if you promise to be truthful with me. Stick to the facts, and leave out a.s.sumptions." It was the only way I worked.

Damien nodded his head in agreement. "You have my word." His voice was strong with the utmost sincerity.

"Fair enough." I let out a deep breath. I couldn't believe I was doing this.

Damien guided me back to my chair where I sat down and tried to calm myself. I was a bundle of nerves as I pondered over what prudent information he could have for me. He slowly took a seat in front of me, leaned to his side, and pulled out a thick white folder.

"When I first came to you," he began, "I'll be honest, my intentions were to destroy your company."

I gasped, choking on thin air, and readied my body to take flight.

Damien narrowed his eyes at me. "You asked for honesty, Raelyn, and I'm giving it to you. Now, I need you to hold up your end of the bargain and hear me out with an open mind."

"Continue." I stifled an irritated sigh as I mentally planned my escape route. This is insane. I need to call a cab.

Damien outstretched his hands and neatly set the file down in front of me. I read the words on top.

CONFIDENTIAL.

HEATHMAN ENTERPRISES.

"As I said, my intentions were different when I first walked into your office, and then I laid eyes on you." He paused, letting his words sink into my mind, before adding, "Then, you told me, 'Numbers never lie,' and it made me reevaluate my intentions."

"I did." I opened the file, seeing Damien's business name on the first piece of paper, followed by lots of numbers.

"When you read through the doc.u.ments I gave you, you'll see that, starting more than four months ago, the numbers do not balance. A few thousand dollars are unaccounted for each week. Then, as you continue to the last two months, a few thousand turn into several thousand dollars. The total missing funds add up to a substantial amount.

"At first, when I saw that profits weren't staying consistent or increasing, I thought it was a typo or a miscalculation. I became more alarmed when I saw they'd started decreasing. I compared your company's spreadsheets to each of my own individual store sales records and saw that a countless number of figures had been altered between the two doc.u.ments."

I didn't like where this conversation was leading. It made knots tighten and coil in the pit of my stomach. This was bad, really bad.

"Only one person handles my accounting, Raelyn," Damien broke into my thoughts. "Your partner is stealing from me."

That ball in my stomach churned, and I wanted to vomit.

"No," I breathed in utter denial, rapidly shaking my head from side to side. "Cale would never do such a thing. It's a mistake." I shoved the papers back across the table. "It has to be a mistake."

"It's not." He placed his hand atop mine, stopping me. That familiar spark s.h.i.+mmered between our connected hands. "I've checked them over countless times myself, hoping I missed something. The numbers never changed. Cale's figures are significantly different than my own."

"No," I repeated with finality. This was some kind of joke...or a nightmare. "Cale wouldn't do this. He's honest and loyal, and he's my business partner and a close friend."

"He is my friend, too." His jaw twitched with anger. "Or was, for that matter."

My head was spinning. No words would come.

"Trust me, Raelyn. Cale is the last person I ever expected this from."

"Trust you?" I wanted to laugh. "I don't even know you."

"Yes, trust me when I say, Cale is one of my oldest friends, but that doesn't change the facts here-or numbers, as you say-and I won't overlook his betrayal."

"How can you be so sure? Maybe..." I trailed off, realizing I had no explanation or excuse for my partner even though I wanted to help clear my friend's name.

"Haven't you ever wondered how Cale just went on an all-inclusive trip to Paris two months ago? Or, better yet, how did he manage to buy a second house in Florida?" His eyes softened as my fingers began to tingle. "Tell me how, Raelyn, because I don't see you living as lavishly as your honest partner."

I had deliberated over those exact questions before, but I knew about Cale's family. They were very wealthy.

"And don't you dare say his parents paid for it because he hasn't spoken to them in years, Raelyn. Years."

I was overwhelmed. My brain was on overload. This was the last thing I'd expected when Damien said he had something to share with me.

When I started to dry-heave, I threw my hand over my mouth and leaped from my chair. "I'm going to be sick," was all I had time to say before I ran out of the private room and darted straight for the ladies' room.

I threw myself into the first stall and lifted the toilet seat, gagging and coughing, as my body trembled to hold myself upright.

This was awful. I wanted to go home where I would be safe and away from this disaster I'd suddenly found myself wedged in the middle of. I had no idea where to go from here.

I was grateful that nothing had come up from my retching, but my belly still rolled with uneasiness as I rose to my feet. Still unprepared to face Damien, I closed my eyes and leaned back against the cold metal stall.

My head swarmed again. Cale and I were tied together in this business. If he'd stolen money from a client, my a.s.s would be on the line, too. I could only pray that my partner or Damien had miscalculated the figures.

Yes, that has to be it. I would go through each and every detail myself and find the error.

Then, everything would go back to normal. Cale could resume accounting for Heathman Enterprises, and their friends.h.i.+p would be restored. Maybe it was wishful thinking on my part, but I was determined to find a solution.