Текст книги "Unmasked: Volume Three"

Автор книги: Cassia Leo

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Chapter Six Alex

My eyelids struggle to open. The lashes are sealed together. Blinking furiously, I groan against the stinging pull on the rims of my eyes. Then a new pain comes to me from my left side. Now I remember. I was stabbed. Again.

My eyelids finally come apart and the first thing I see is Daimon’s face hovering over me. His face is framed by the dim glow of yellow light above us. His blue eyes are rimmed pink and full of relief.

“What… where… where am I?” My voice is husky. My throat raw and parched, probably from the loss of blood.

“We’re still in Tenerife. How are you feeling?”

“What time is it? I… I have to go. I have to go to Monaco.”

I attempt to sit up and a blinding pain lights up my left side. Daimon grabs my shoulders and gently pushes me down, but not before I notice the intravenous lines snaking out of my arm.

“You’re not going anywhere right now. You have to rest,” he murmurs, brushing my hair away from my eyes. “Vengeance can wait.”

The word vengeance hits me like a kick in the chest. “You were right,” I whisper, looking into his eyes. “About Nick. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I was—”

“Shh. You don’t have to apologize.”

He strokes my hair and leans down to kiss my forehead. His new beard brushes against my brow and his lips are cool against my hot skin. So soft and familiar, yet still so new.

“These days apart have felt like years,” I whisper, my throat thickened with emotion. “I didn’t want to kill you.”

“I know, chérie. If you wanted to kill me I’d be dead.”

I chuckle and the smile on his face makes my heart feel full. “What happened to me? How bad is it?”

He closes his eyes and hangs his head for a moment. He doesn’t have to say a word for me to know it’s serious. Every second I wait for him to break his silence feels like an eternity.

“Daimon, please. Just tell me.”

His eyes find mind, but his gaze is burning through me. My heart pounds an agonizing beat inside my chest. Then, finally, he speaks.

“The baby is gone.”

My throat constricts until I can’t speak or breathe. No, I try to say, but nothing comes out. Nothing but tears.

“Breathe, Alex,” he urges me.

I shake my head wildly as Daimon’s face begins to flicker and my vision begins to close into a tiny speck.

What did I do to deserve this? I was born a mutant and I’ve spent eighteen years paying for a sin I didn’t commit. And now this? My father dead. The hope of a child gone.

What do I have left?

The arguing gets louder as I open my eyes, but I can’t understand any of it. All I see is a single incandescent lightbulb hanging overhead, illuminating steel beams that criss-cross an industrial ceiling. I’m in a warehouse.

I try to sit up and the sharp pain in my side reminds me of my injury. I take a deep breath as I lie back, trying to hear my thoughts over the sound of the arguing. Then I remember.

Daimon said the baby is gone.

My eyes sting and I grit my teeth against the pain, but I can’t hold back the tears. “Why?” I mutter through my grief.

The arguing stops. The silence is followed by hurried shuffling, and Daimon is at my side again. The curves of his beautiful face, hardened by the argument, begin to soften as he gazes into my eyes.

“You’re awake.”

“Why did this happen to me?”

Daimon’s face screws up as he shakes his head, unable to provide an answer.

“I… I just wanted someone to love… to love me.” I squeeze my eyes shut to block out his face. To hide from the shame.

He grabs my face to force me to look at him. His lips tremble slightly as he presses his mouth into a hard line, trying in vain to suppress his emotions.

“I love you, Alex. I’ll always love you.” He kisses the corner of my mouth and more tears roll out of my eyes and onto his fingertips. “In the light and in the dark. With a mask or without. I love everything about you.”

I reach up slowly and coil my arms around his neck to pull him closer. He buries his face in my neck and allows me to weep as he caresses my hair.

“It’s okay, chérie. You’re with me now. Everything is going to be okay.”

I squeeze him tighter, savoring the sensation of his solid chest against mine. Breathing in the slightly briny fragrance of the ocean mixed with the woodsy scent of his skin. I nuzzle my cheek against his neck and draw in a deep breath.

“I missed you,” I whisper against his skin. “I knew you were alive. I knew you’d come back.”

He chuckles and the sound sends a sweet chill through me. “I can’t even be angry with you for trying to kill me. I am hopeless.”

I loosen my hold on him and grab the sides of his face to look him in the eye. “Not hopeless. This isn’t over. We’re not finished. We have to kill her.”

His eyes narrow as a slow smile forms on his gorgeous face. “What I have planned is much more satisfying than a simple assassination.” He kisses the tip of my nose as a bald man in a white coat begins hanging another bag of fluids on an I.V. stand next to me. “Rest, chérie. You’ll need your strength.”

The bald man presses a button on a machine and Daimon and I both watch as the fluid travels through the line and into my arm. He begins to draw away, but I lock my arms around his neck and pull him in for a real kiss. He tastes a bit sweet and metallic, but the cool sensation of his tongue in my mouth is better than any pain medication. Almost as soon as a painful longing sweeps through me, the medication kicks in and my grip on his neck slackens.

He pulls away and kisses my forehead. “Sleep, chérie. I’ll be standing right here when you wake up.”

The next time I wake, I’m surrounded by darkness. I’m not on the hard steel table anymore. I’ve been moved.

“Daimon!” I whisper frantically.

I hear movement in the dark and suddenly the room is flooded with light. I blink against the bright glow of the lamplight, blue spots obscuring my vision. Then Daimon appears at my side.

“How are you feeling?” he murmurs as he kneels next to me.

I’m lying on a sofa in an office. I blink a few more times to clear the spots, then I reach for his hand and see the bandage on the inside of the crook of my arm. The I.V. line is gone and I’m dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt.

“Where are we?”

“We’re still in Tenerife, in the warehouse. We moved you so you’d be more comfortable. How are you feeling?”

I move my hand to my side to touch my injury and grunt at the searing pain that results from this brief touch. “I’m fine. I need to get out of here.”

I grit my teeth as Daimon helps me sit up. Then he sits next to me and wraps his arm around my shoulder. “Do you feel well enough to travel?”

“We’re going to Monaco?”

“Not yet. You’re not ready physically, or mentally.”

“What does that mean?” I turn my head to face him and just this small movement causes a sharp pain to explode in my side. “What do you mean, I’m not ready mentally?”

“Alex, you’re not able to see beyond your pain right now.”

“I’m fine!”

“No, you’re not,” he growls. “Let me make this very clear, you are not going to Monaco until you’re ready. And you are far from ready, Alex.”

I glare at him, but he stares right back at me, never blinking. “I will leave when I’m ready to leave.”

He lowers his gaze for a moment, taking a beat before he peers into my eyes again. I can already sense that I’m not going to like what he’s about to say.

“Alex, we need to talk about what happened. You can’t set off on the path of vengeance without any contemplation.”

“You said you have a plan! Whatever you have planned is fine with me. I just want to get out of here.”

He shakes his head. “No, that is not how you operate. And it is certainly not how I operate. Neither of us will be jumping into this mission with hot heads.” He grabs my chin and forces me to look him in the eye. “We need to talk about what happened, between you and me. And we need to talk about your father… and the baby. We have to talk about this or it will destroy us both.”

I push his hand off my chin and hang my head to hide the tears. “There’s nothing to talk about. You were hired to kill me. I tried to kill you. My father and… and the baby got caught in the crossfire. Collateral damage. End of story.”

“This story is far from over. Listen to me.” He lowers himself from the sofa, grabbing my hand as he kneels before me. “We are going to live the rest of our lives with the repercussions of our decisions . We have to lay it all out and promise that we will forgive each other, or this will never work. We will never work. Look at me, Alex.” I look up from my lap and his eyes are pleading with me. “Alex, I am on my knees asking for your forgiveness. I know that there will be times when you will look at me and you’ll think of your father. There will probably be times when you’ll want to poison me or step on my throat, but I need you to promise me that you won’t.”

I smile reluctantly through the tears. “I promise I won’t try to kill you… even when you infuriate me by making fun of how I tried to kill you.”

“It’s not funny.”

He smiles as he says this and I shove his shoulder. “It’s not funny. And it’s especially not funny because I know you’re right. I will try to kill you. It’s what I was trained to do. It’s my natural instinct.” My gaze falls to his hand in my lap. I take it in mine and squeeze. “I need you to save me, and you, from myself.”

He brings my hand to his lips and lays a soft kiss on the back of my fingers. “It would be my honor to save you and me from you.”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I wasn’t ready for a baby,” I whisper the shameful words that have been haunting me since this conversation began. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

“But… if I wasn’t ready… why does it hurt so much?”

He squeezes my hand, though he’s silent for a moment. “The baby was a part of us. It always hurts when you lose a part of yourself.”

I lift my hand and run my fingers through his dark hair. “Promise me it won’t always hurt this much.”

“I can’t,” he replies, taking a seat next to me again. “But I can promise I’ll be there to hold you when the pain becomes unbearable.”

He takes me in his arms and I remember what my mother told me. The monsters we can’t see are the scariest ones of all. I finally understand what she meant by this. The monsters we can’t see, the ones that dwell only in our minds, are the scariest ones of all. Because there’s only one way to fight those monsters.

With the help of someone who loves you.

I squeeze Daimon and he holds me tightly until the tears stop. It must be the hormones raging inside me after the miscarriage. I don’t think I’ve cried this much in all my life. But something about the way he holds me, as if he’d tear the Earth apart before he allowed anyone to tear us apart, it makes me feel safe. Like I can let go and… feel everything.

Finally, I draw in a cleansing breath and look up at him. “I’m ready. Tell me about your plans for the princess.”

Chapter Seven Daimon

The private jet we charter to Nice is well-appointed and the air-conditioned air is the first reprieve we’ve had from the oppressive humidity of the warehouse. The first thing Alex wants to do after the plane has reached cruising altitude is no surprise to me because I’m in complete agreement.

I follow Alex into the jet’s bathroom, then I close the door behind me. She’s frozen for a moment, staring at the shower stall enclosed in double-thick tempered glass, to withstand falls caused by turbulence. I step toward her until my chest is brushing up against her back. Reaching forward, I take her left hand in mine and lean forward to whisper in her ear.

“If you prefer, I can wait outside.”

“No,” she replies with haste, shaking her head. “Don’t go. I need you to help me.”

She turns around to face me and raises her arms in the air so I can remove her T-shirt. I pull the shirt off gently and toss it onto the counter. I wrap my arms around her waist and kiss her slowly as I undo the clasp on her bra. Her mouth opens wider, inviting me to quell her thirst for more.

I slip the straps of her bra off her shoulders, then I plant a tender kiss on her neck as I let it fall to the floor. I reach for the button of her jeans, being careful not to touch her stab wound. Kneeling before her, I help her step out of her pants. Her black panties follow her jeans and I gaze at her beautiful body for a moment before I lay a soft kiss on her abdomen. I look up at her and her chest is heaving with anticipation.

She traces her finger over the discolored skin on the left side of her torso. “This is the first time you’ve seen my body in the light.”

“And you’re more beautiful than I could have imagined.”

I have to go easy on her so I don’t exasperate her injury. I grip the back of her knee then slide my hand up slowly until it’s between her legs. She closes her eyes and leans her head back as I glide my middle finger inside her. I move my finger in and out a few times, then I gently drag it forward onto her swollen clit.

She whimpers and her knees begin to buckle. I tease her with soft caresses; not firm enough for her to climax, but just enough to drive her crazy. When she begins to double over, I remove my hand from between her legs and stand up.

She cups her hand over her throbbing clit, watching me undress as she tries to catch her breath. When I’m naked, I turn on the shower and adjust the water temperature. I turn around and she’s smiling.

“Are you real?” she whispers, reaching forward to run her fingers over my abdominal muscles. “You’re exquisite.”

I smile at the compliment, then I take her hand in mine and lead her into the shower. “Turn your back to the water.”

She stands under the showerhead with the water cascading over her glistening skin, which has been bronzed by the island sun. I sweep her hair over her shoulders as she leans her head back. I kiss her neck, sucking gently and savoring the flavor of salt on her skin as my hands land on her waist.

Pulling her body flush against me, my erection slides over her slick abdomen then down and between her thighs. She gasps and twirls her hips in a greedy gesture that rubs her clit against the head of my cock.

I hold her hips steady to still her movement. “You just stand there and relax.” I issue the command in a low growl. “I’ll give you what you want.”

I grab a small bottle of body wash off the marble shelf and deposit a good amount into my palm. I massage the soap into her neck and shoulders, kneading away the tension before I move down her arms and legs. I get some soap in my hand and she nods in anticipation.

I slide my hand between her thighs and she grabs onto my neck to steady herself as I caress her tender flesh. My fingers glide between every crease and she whimpers each time I hit her clit. After a few seconds, the soap has washed away. I remove my hand and kneel before her.

Reaching behind her, I grab her ass firmly as I lean forward and slip my tongue between her swollen lips. I slide my right hand down the back of her thigh and gently lift her leg so her foot is resting on the top of my thigh. She grips the shelf as I use my tongue to massage the flesh around her clit. I want to go easy on her. I also want to draw out the pleasure as long as possible. I’ve been longing to put my mouth on her since the last night we were together. I must savor this moment.

Using my left hand to part her lips, I lick all around her pussy, purposely avoiding her clit. Her whimpers come more high-pitched the longer I tease her.

“Oh, God. Please, Daimon.”

The sound of her pleading gets my cock painfully engorged. I want to be inside her so bad, but she needs a couple weeks for her body to recover. But that doesn’t mean I can’t pleasure her orally.

I slide my finger between her cheeks as I close my lips around her clit. I massage her tight opening while sucking gently on her delicate rosebud. It takes a moment before she’s relaxed enough for me to slide my finger inside her. She lets out a deep moan followed by audible panting. I push in a bit further as my tongue glides over her clit in tight circles.

Her hand finds my head and yanks my hair as her body begins to spasm. “Daimon! Don’t stop. I’m coming.”

I slow the swirl of my tongue to draw out the orgasm as my finger moves in and out of her. Her knees buckle completely. I allow her to slide down until she’s seated on my knee, facing me and straddling my thigh as I kneel on the shower floor.

She throws her arms around me and buries her face in my neck. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Alex

He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me closer to his chest. I take his earlobe between my teeth and tug softly. His cock twitches against my thigh and I seize the opportunity caused by this slight distraction to slide my hand down and grab hold of his erection. I form an O with my fingers and move my hand slowly up and down from the base to the tip.

He leans his head back and I suck on his neck as I pump my fist faster with each stroke. Then I stop and tilt my head back to see his reaction. He’s smiling because he knows what I want.

I sit on the floor of the shower as he stands up and plants each of his feet firmly on either side of my thigh. He leans forward, placing one of his hands on the shower wall for support. His other hand gently grabs the back of my head as he slides his thick cock into my mouth.

Keeping my left hand gripped firmly around the base of his cock, I use my other hand to pleasure myself. The tip of his massive erection slides in and out of my mouth, going just a bit farther with each thrust. Then he eases up on me when he sees my eyes widen from the deep pressure in my throat.

“That’s it, baby,” he growls when he notices I’m about to climax again. “I want to see you come with my cock in your mouth. Come on, baby.”

It takes all my concentration not to bite down or choke when another orgasm rocks me. But I manage to hold it together and the moment I move my right hand up to massage his sac, he explodes in my mouth. His seed tastes sweeter this time. Maybe it’s the tropical island diet.

I swallow every last drop, then he helps me onto my feet so we can finish showering. I’m not sure how much hot water this plane has left, but it can’t be much. Once we’ve toweled ourselves dry and changed into clean clothes, we relax in the bedroom of the jet for the remainder of the six-hour flight.

A private car is waiting for us at the Côte d’Azur International Airport in Nice, France. It whisks us away and I savor the twenty-minute drive cuddled up with Daimon in the backseat, ten minutes of which are spent driving along the most stunning coastline I’ve ever seen.

Route de Bellet delivers us to a grand chateau nestled in the rolling green hills of Nice. We have no baggage, other than the emotional kind, so as soon as the car pulls into the circular driveway, Daimon helps me out and we head straight for the enormous, rustic double doors of the chateau. Daimon reaches for the iron circle hanging just below the peephole, but the door opens before he can grasp the knocker.

A man with shoulder-length caramel brown hair holds his arms open. “Daimon!” he shouts, and they embrace as he continues excitedly in French.

“Alex, this is my brother, Victor.”

I smile, trying not to appear as useless as a door-knocker on a 10,000 square foot chateau. But that’s difficult when I’ve never been anywhere near a place this beautiful. Is this the lifestyle in which Daimon was raised? A job as a detective for the Los Angeles Police Department would be a long fall from this. Why would he take a job as a hit man if it wasn’t for the money?

Victor tilts his head and smiles even wider as he realizes I don’t speak French. “How rude of me! I didn’t know you only speak English. So nice to meet you, Alex. Please, come inside. Come.”

Victor and Daimon exchange an uneasy look when we enter and I get the feeling we are not as welcome as Victor would have me believe. Daimon grabs my hand as Victor leads us into a large sitting room with a wall of French doors that look out onto a courtyard. In the center of the neatly trimmed shrubs surrounding the courtyard, is a sleek water fountain with a modern copper sculpture. Daimon leads me to a plush taupe sofa in the sitting room while Victor takes a seat in a boxy armchair across from us.

Victor grabs a bottle of wine off the rustic coffee table between us and uncorks it as he speaks. “Interpol is looking for a man with dark hair and blue eyes and a woman with red hair and skin discoloration. It will be easy to disguise you, but they’re increasing security at the Grand Prix. She knows you’re coming for her.”

He pours each of us a glass of red wine and slides two glasses across the table toward Daimon and me. Daimon hands me my glass and I almost laugh at the absurdity of the situation. I’m at my lover’s brother’s chateau in France, planning a way to get past security at one of the world’s most exclusive social events of the year, and I’m not even old enough to drink this wine. At least, not in the states. In France, this is perfectly acceptable. Well, except for the things we’re planning.

Daimon brings his glass to his perfect lips, and I can’t help but envy the glass. He swallows the wine and smiles at me. “You don’t drink wine?”

I take a sip and I’m pleasantly surprised. It’s smoother than the wine I drank with Nick in La Palma. My chest constricts painfully at the thought of Nick. I killed him.

Yes, it was technically self-defense, but that doesn’t change the fact that I killed a man. Even after all those years of combat training with my father, I never thought I’d have to use the skills he taught me. I never thought I’d be a killer.

“Do you like it?” Daimon asks and I nod. “Are you not feeling well? You’re shaking.”

I glance at my wine glass and the liquid is trembling in my grasp. “I need to lie down.”

Daimon takes the glass from my hand and places both our drinks on the coffee table. “I’ll take you to our room.”

He says something in French to Victor and his brother replies in French. I don’t know if they’re doing it for convenience, but it makes me even more anxious. What is wrong with me? I was trained to be calm in stressful situations. It must be the hormones.

Daimon leads me up a gorgeous curved staircase to the second floor. The corridor upstairs is at least fifteen feet wide. Who needs all this space?

“What are you thinking?” he asks as he leads me toward the third door on the left.

I could tell him the truth, that I’m thinking of Nick and my father, but I’ll risk upsetting him. Or he may decide I’m not ready for this mission. I’m not one to go into a project like this knowing I’m not ready. It’s only since Daimon entered my life that I’ve been behaving recklessly. Acting impulsively instead of methodically.

I enter ahead of him and he closes the door. The bedroom is simple yet spacious. The creamy white linens bathed in the soft glow of the late-afternoon sunlight pouring through the French doors, which lead onto a balcony.

“What makes you think we’re safe here?” I whisper, as he pushes the bedroom door open. “If he’s your brother, won’t they come looking for us here first?”

He stares into my eyes for a long, tense moment before he responds. “No one will look for us here. Victor and I faked our own deaths many years ago, after our parents died.”

“Why?” I ask, though I have a feeling I may not want to know.

He heaves a deep sigh then continues. “We grew up on a small dairy farm in the countryside, far away from civilization. Our parents loved to take out the belt or the paddle when we misbehaved. But they really liked to hurt Victor the most. He’s four years older than I am, but I felt the need to protect him. I was fourteen the first time I stopped my father from killing Victor. The second time, I was fifteen… There was never a third time.

“I never thought I would become a killer. It was not my childhood dream. But it’s something I do well. I don’t pretend to know who deserves to die in the eyes of God. I only know who deserves to die in my eyes. Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I hadn’t become an assassin, but I never wonder whether I made the right choice in protecting my brother.”

He brushes the tears away from my cheek and gazes into my eyes awaiting my response.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” I whisper.

Daimon takes my hand and we both sit on the edge of the bed. “You don’t have to do this. I can do it alone. It’s the way I’ve always done it.”

“You don’t want me to go with you?”

“I didn’t say that.” He reaches up and turns my face toward his. “I want you to do whatever will give you the most peace. If you think you need to face her, then that is what I want. If this mission makes you nervous; if you think it will transform you into a person you cannot live with, then I don’t want you to go. I just want you to be happy with whatever you choose.”

I gaze into his eyes, looking for a sign of uncertainty, but it’s me who’s having doubts. Not him. “Is there anything in this world that you’re afraid of?”

A shadow passes over his blue eyes as his face hardens. “I’m afraid of losing you.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you.”

This puts a soft smile on his face. “Do you want to forget everything? Just disappear with me?”

He reaches up and delicately pinches my chin between his thumb and forefinger as he gazes at my mouth, awaiting my answer.

“No. I can’t let her get away with what she’s done. She discarded me as a newborn, then hired someone to kill me. And in the process, I lost almost everything that has ever mattered to me. I can’t let that go. I’m not that sensible.”

He chuckles at my last proclamation, then he leans in to kiss me. His beard tickles my lips and I smile when I taste the sweet wine on his tongue. I wrap my arms around his sturdy shoulders and kiss him harder. After a moment, I pull away and look him in the eye.

“I love you, mon cheri.”

He laughs softly. “That was very sexy. But I’m going to have to teach you to speak French properly.”

“How long are we staying here with your brother?”

“Two weeks. That should be enough time for you to recover. And that’s when the Grand Prix Gala will take place in Monte Carlo.”

“Two weeks?” I mutter as my mind wanders to thoughts of Daimon and I holed up in this beautiful guest room for fourteen days. I look up at him and smile. “I want you to teach me everything you learned while being a hit man.”

He looks a little befuddled by this request. “Why?”

I gaze into his sparkling blue eyes and smile. “I want to make sure there’s no chance I’ll be holding you back. I want to be your equal.”

“You already are my equal. I told you this. You and I are the same.”

“No, we’re not. You know more about performing hits than I do. Far more. I want to know everything.” I rake my fingers through the soft dark hair on his head. “We’re a team now.”

He closes his eyes, savoring the sensation of my fingers running through his hair. “I’ll teach you everything I know… tomorrow. Tonight, I’ll be spending all night in this bed… worshipping you.” He opens his eyes and grabs my hands to pull them against his chest. “Lie down, chérie. Church is in session.”

After thirteen days of being Daimon’s student, my body and mind are both exhausted and invigorated. I feel like a new person. A better person.

According to Daimon, my training made me the perfect candidate for a job as an assassin. The only things I need to work on are embracing technology and weapons, and learning some foreign languages. We argued about the effectiveness of weapons for hours before I finally conceded to his point that it is always better to be prepared for anything.

Victor’s wife and three children arrived from their three-week trip to Brazil last night. They were too exhausted to spend time socializing with us, but they’re full of energy this morning as they scurry about the huge kitchen helping themselves to a traditional French breakfast of coffee, fromage blanc with fruit, and sliced baguettes with fresh butter and jam.

The three children, ages eight, eleven, and fifteen, speak in rapid-fire French that sounds almost musical. Eight-year-old Louis sits next to me at the breakfast table as I’m pouring some corn flakes into a bowl.

“You are American?” he asks, then he takes a spoonful of fromage and strawberry preserves into his mouth.

“Don’t ask stupid questions, Louis,” snaps fifteen-year-old Victoria. “I’m sorry for my brother,” she continues, taking a seat on my other side.

Daimon sits across from me wearing a slight grin as he drinks his coffee and eats his baguette.

“I am not stupid,” Louis retorts, and Victoria shakes her head in dismay.

“It’s fine. I don’t mind answering. Yes, I’m American. Have you been to America?”

Eleven-year-old Vanessa sits across from Victoria. “We have been to New York and Florida and California.”

I swallow my shame as I realize these children have seen more of America than I have. “Which did you like the best?” I ask as I pour some milk into my bowl of cereal.

“California,” Vanessa replies. “New York was cold and so many people. And Florida was so hot and so many bugs.”

“I like New York,” Victoria says, sipping her café au lait. “I want to live in New York.”

“You can’t live in New York!” Louis shouts in my left ear. “They don’t like ugly people in America.”

“Be quiet. Nobody was talking to you,” Vanessa interjects.

“Shh! All of you be quiet. You are annoying our guests,” Victor’s wife Imane says, taking a seat next to Vanessa.

I look at Daimon and he’s still smiling. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I’m beginning to feel like fate may have intervened at the right moment for us. I am definitely not ready to deal with children at this juncture in my life.

Victor enters the kitchen with his cell phone pressed to his ear and a worried look on his face. He and Daimon lock eyes, then he nods toward the other room. Daimon looks at me and nods for me to join him.

“Bring your food. You need to eat.”

One thing I’ve learned about Daimon these past two weeks, which did not surprise me at all, is how bossy he is. He insists that I eat at least four times a day. When I lived on my own in Los Angeles, I got used to eating twice a day due to my limited budget. But Daimon insists I need to eat more often to maintain a healthy blood sugar level, which he insists is key to staying alert and energetic.