“Just hope she don’t complain either,” I grumble.
“Doubt she will. Looked fucking tore the fuck up when I saw her.”
We shoot the shit for a few more minutes, then I end the call, focusing on the road again until Jimmy speaks up next to me.
“That your happiness callin’ on you, cuz?”
“Damn straight.”
“You goin’ after it?”
“Damn fuckin’ straight,” I bark.
“Atta boy.”
My lips curl up into a smile and I feel that atta boy rush throughout my entire body. Damn fucking straight. I’m going to head back out to California, except this time, I’m not coming back empty-handed. I’m bringing Stephanie back home where she has always belonged, by my side.
Chapter Twenty
STEPHANIE
There’s a knock on my front door and my entire body jumps at the sound. Chewing on my bottom lip, I tiptoe over to the peephole and look through. Damion is standing on the other side, and while I let out a sigh of relief, I also have an instant feeling of dread.
Opening the door, I step to the side and allow him to walk past me. He’s carrying two coffees and his Hammitt work bag that I bought him for his birthday when I saw him drooling over them in a boutique.
“Almond milk,” he says, shoving the drink toward me.
Taking it, I bring it to my lips, taking a sip as he makes his way into my living room. Closing the front door, I make sure to lock it up tightly before I make my way into the living room to meet Damion.
“Okay, you’ve avoided me for far too long,” he snaps as soon as I sink down in the chair and half across from him.
Shifting my gaze to the floor, my shoulders slump and I stay silent. I don’t want him mixed up with this shit. I don’t need anyone to hurt him. Not that I think Kirill would, but he’s still a freaking bad guy.
“You did a fucking interview without your assistant, what the actual fuck?”
My eyes widen and lift to meet his. He’s pissed. Really pissed. “Some shit went down,” I mutter.
“Really? I thought everything was fucking normal,” he snorts.
“Damion.”
“No,” he shouts. “No. You don’t get to push me away like that, not for this. I get you’re private, boy do I get it, but Sterling, you have to let me in on what the hell is going on here. You go back to your hometown, you see your cowboy, all those photos are leaked, and then what?”
“Call me Stephanie, please. Sebastian is threatening to leak a tape, now.”
“Why?”
My eyes flick around the room, avoiding his, but Damion isn’t having it. He snaps his fingers between us and I shift my gaze to meet his. He looks extremely impatient and I know that he wants all of the details.
“Stephanie, tell me what is going on, you’re scaring me.”
I shake my head. I don’t want him involved, even if I’m not really his friend, to me, he’s one of my only friends.
“Stephanie, as your friend, I demand to know.”
“My friend?” I whisper.
He frowns, then shakes his head. “Your friend,” he says with a nod.
“Just know, anything that happens it won’t affect your position or your income, not if I can help it,” I murmur.
He jerks his head back as if I’ve slapped him and shakes it a couple of times. “What on earth? Why would I give a fuck about that? Honey, no offense, but I’m the best in the biz, I could get a job anywhere. I choose to work for my best friend.”
“Best friend?” I whisper.
“What the fuck, Steph?” he growls.
Pressing my lips together, I roll them around as I look into his eyes. “I just. I didn’t think…”
He shakes his head once. “You don’t really think about that stuff. But I consider you my best friend. I don’t know what’s so hard to fathom about that. You’re kind, generous, loyal, sweet, and funny as shit. Plus, you’ve been through every breakup with me, held my hand and got me drunk when I needed it. Of course, you’re my best friend.”
“Damion,” I breathe.
He grins, reaching across to me he takes my hand in his and squeezes me. Then he stands with a huff and stomps toward me. Scooting over quickly, I giggle as he flops down in the chair next to me. He takes my hand in his again, my giggle dying when his fingers lace with my own.
“What the fuck is going on,” he whispers.
“Sebastian got caught up with the Russian mob,” I admit softly.
There’s a moment of silence and I expect Damion to freak the fuck out, about the same way I did the first time that I heard it, but he doesn’t. Instead, he throws his head back and starts to laugh.
“That dumb motherfucker,” he wheezes.
“It’s not funny. He was planning on selling a sex tape of us, then one of me and Ford that he had some PI take, both I didn’t even know existed.”
“He’s a dumb motherfucker,” Damion repeats. “Let me guess, he made you meet with them, tried to put you in the middle of it all, too?”
“How’d you know?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I saw some pictures of you and a sexy as fuck guy at a Russian restaurant in West Hollywood. I thought maybe you’d met a sexy daddy, but now I know it was fucking Sebastian and his stink.”
Damion’s lip curls and he wrinkles his nose as if he does indeed smell something bad. Tilting my head, I rest it against his shoulder.
“Kirill is very nice, happily married to a blonde bombshell, and has promised that there won’t be any blowback. He says I don’t need to worry about any of it and the videos have all been destroyed.”
He doesn’t say anything right away and I think that he’s going to drop the whole thing, but he doesn’t.
“I’m sure he was nice because you’re a beautiful woman, but you don’t need to be mixed up with them at all. They have a stable of girls, they run drugs, they do a lot of shady shit and you don’t need to be friends with any of them,” he mutters.
“I don’t plan on it,” I grumble.
“Good, now let’s talk about Cowboy. When are you going back to Texas?”
“I’m not,” I say. He makes a noise in the back of his throat. “What?”
He doesn’t say anything immediately, his fingers squeezing mine, then he decides to speak. “I’d never heard you as excited, as nervous, as happy as you were when you were there. Do you think that maybe you should explore that?”
“It’s just not possible,” I whisper.
“How was the sex?” he asks, assuming that I slept with him and he’s right.
“Best I ever had,” I say without hesitation.
FORD
The plane touches down and I hold my breath as it bounces along the tarmac. Fucking hell, I hate to fly. This is the second time flying out here and I never plan on doing it again, not unless I’m forced for whatever reason, but the jet-setter life is obviously not for me.
I prefer my truck, a country road, and to be in control. Waiting like fucking sheep, we’re finally given permission to leave the plane. Making my way toward baggage claim, I find my luggage and turn around searching for the car rental place.