J. Kenner - Take Me

“Mr. Stark—Damien—I—” She stops abruptly, and I am amused. My mother is very rarely rendered speechless, but the last time she and Damien met he sent her away, effectively getting rid of her by flying her back to Texas on one of his jets. And that was before she’d said the variety of nasty things she’s since uttered about the two of us. I have to wonder if she doesn’t now fear that her ride out of California this go-round will be significantly less pleasant.

Damien, however, is the picture of cultured politeness. “It was so kind of you to come with Nikki today. I think we both know how valuable your opinion is to her.” My mother’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly. I can tell that she wants to reply, to lash out with the sweet sting of words that she’d want to cut him as deeply as a blade has cut me, but they clearly don’t come. I’m not surprised. My mother is formidable, but Damien is more so.

Her expression shifts from consternation to surprise when Jamie bursts into the bakery like a tornado. “I’m here! I’m here! Big ticky mark for the maid of honor!”

For a moment I think that she really is here simply because she promised me she’d try to make it to Love Bites on time. But when I see that it is not me she looks to first, but Damien, I realize that he called her—and that she is part of the cavalry, too.

A moment later, Ryan Hunter, Damien’s head of security, hurries inside as well, only to stop short when he sees Damien, then fall back toward the door, his eyes on my mother, as if she is a bomb about to go off. Laughter bubbles in my throat. I never felt loved by my mother. Damien not only makes me feel loved, but also cherished and protected and safe.

I understand what has happened, of course. Tony called Damien. Since Damien was in Palm Springs, he called both Jamie and Ryan in order to ensure there was someone with me to run interference. I squeeze his hand, then mouth, Thank you. The words are simple; the emotion is not.

He squeezes back, but his attention is focused on my mother. I look toward her, too, and as I do I realize that Sally has gracefully exited, leaving the drama of the showroom for the relative calm of the kitchen.

Damien’s voice is firm as he addresses my mother. “Between Jamie and me, I think we have it covered. I’m sure you have unpacking to do. Why don’t you let my security chief drive you to the hotel?”

“Don’t be silly,” my mother says. “I’m happy to stay.” She smiles at me, and my stomach curls. “I want to spend time with my daughter.”

“Awesome,” Jamie says. “Today’s her bachelorette party.” She glances at her watch. “In fact we’re supposed to meet the others girls at Raven in about half an hour. It’s a strip club,” she adds in a stage whisper. “It’s going to be awesome. Wanna come?”

My mother goggles at her, and it takes all my power not to laugh. I know Jamie is joking—I specifically told her I didn’t want to do the bachelorette thing—but in this moment it would almost be worth going through with it.

“Um, no. Thank you. I—” Her eyes cut to Damien. “I suppose I should get settled.”

“I keep a suite at the Century Plaza hotel,” Damien says. “I insist you stay there.”

“Oh, no. I wouldn’t want to be any trouble.”

He doesn’t say what I know he is thinking— You’ve already been that . Instead, he graces her with his most formal corporate smile. “No trouble at all. In fact, your car is already there. You’re all checked in.”

I see the confusion on Jamie’s face— she’s been staying at the Century Plaza suite.

“Oh. I see. Well, then.” My mother turns her attention to me. “I’ll go with you tomorrow to the dress fitting,” she says, and I remember with regret that I’d nervously prattled off my schedule for the week as I drove us from Malibu to Beverly Hills.

“Sure,” I say, though what I really want is to scream that there is no way in hell I want her in my head as I try on my wedding dress. “That would be great.”

Damien is looking at me questioningly, and I shrug in reply. Part of me wants him to step in and send her packing. But she is my mother, and another part of me—the secret, buried part that I don’t like to take out and examine too closely—wants to have her at my wedding. Wants to have her hold me and tell me she’s sorry for all the years of horror and drama.

I want it, but I do not expect it. Yet still that flame of hope is alive, and I feel it flickering inside me.

“Ryan will take you,” Damien says to my mother. I glance at Ryan and watch as he turns his attention away from Jamie to this new assignment. I turn to look at my best friend. Her expression suggests that she’s oblivious to Ryan’s attention, but there’s an unfamiliar color to her cheeks, and as she watches him lead my mother out the door, I can’t help but wonder.

Jamie crosses the room to join me at the table, then picks up the red velvet cake with her fingers and takes a huge bite. “You realize that there’s no way I’m sharing a suite with your mother.”

I laugh. “Neither of you would survive.”

“I had Tony pack your things when he delivered Mrs. Fairchild’s car,” Damien says. “You’re staying in Malibu with us.”

Jamie does a fist pump. “Score!”

My smile is so wide it almost hurts. “Thanks for having my back,” I say to Damien.

“Always.” The softness in his eyes hardens a bit. “Do you want me to send her back to Texas?”

I almost say yes, but then shake my head. “No. I’m getting married, and she is my mother. I’m strong enough to handle it,” I say, in response to his reproachful look.

“You are,” he agrees.

“And there was a moment—” I shake my head, thinking about the way she’d talked about Ashley’s wedding, and the vulnerability that I’d seen in her eyes.

“What?” Damien is looking at me intently.

“I just think that, despite all the Elizabeth Fairchild nonsense, part of her really does want to be here for me on my wedding day.”

For a moment, Damien only looks at me, his hands on my shoulders. Then he leans forward and captures my mouth with the sweetest of kisses. When he pulls away, I expect an argument. I expect him to recite an itemized list of every horrible thing my mother has done to me, to us. I expect him to point to his own father, whom neither of us want at this wedding. Hell, I expect him to talk some sense into me.

Instead, he says simply, “Be careful.”

I swallow and nod, because I know that he’s right to be concerned.

Once again, the door chimes, but this time I do not know the man who enters. He is drop-dead gorgeous, with dark hair highlighted by gold and red. He carries himself with a Damien Stark kind of confidence, and when his gaze sweeps the room, I see both calculation and intelligence in his sharp, gray eyes.

“We should finish up with Sally and get going,” I say to Damien. “She’s got other customers to deal with.”

“I’m sure she does,” he replies, “but Evan isn’t one of them. He’s with me.”

“Holy crap,” Jamie says, “do you travel in packs?”

Damien frowns, and I almost laugh. There aren’t many people who can knock him off kilter. “What are you talking about?” he asks.

“Never mind,” Jamie says, waving her hand as if wiping the words away. But she turns her attention to me, and I nod slightly. I have understood her perfectly, because this guy is hot. Maybe not Damien Stark hot, I think loyally, but he’s got some serious sizzle going on.

“Evan Black, let me introduce you to my fiancée, Nikki Fairchild, and her best friend, Jamie Archer.”

Evan strides across the room to join us. He shakes my hand, then Jamie’s. I can’t help but notice that she holds on a moment longer than is necessary.