Live, Laugh, Loathe

Chapter 15: Damon

"No."

"What do you mean, no?" I have to take a deep breath to avoid pinching the bridge of my nose. This woman.

"I said no. I'm not showing up to this gala with you as if we're dating. I'll go separately and work as your assistant like I'm supposed to." She has her hands on her hips and has set her jaw in a way that means I can't change her mind. It'd be cute and a little arousing if she wasn't arguing with me.

"No one will think we're dating." Her nostrils flare, and I know I'm about to lose this argument. She's now fully five months along and starting to show a bit. It's at the point where I'm begging her daily to let us meet with HR and get this over with. It's honestly shocking no one's figured it out yet.

"Damon. You literally cannot contain yourself around me. You hold doors, carry my things, and guide me around with your hand on my lower back at every chance you get. If we show up to this gala and you pull every boyfriend move known to man, everyone will assume we're dating. The answer is no, and it's final." She turns on her heel and exits my office, her ponytail swishing. Which draws my eyes to how fucking edible she looks in her dress pants and a silk tank. She had a jacket too, but removed it once most of the office cleared out. I'm instantly hard thinking about her body and how much I wish I could see her completely naked.

But she hasn't once indicated she reciprocates my feelings. I've held her hand a few times and done everything she just listed, but her reactions are usually annoyance or frustrated acceptance. I've noticed things like hard nipples or flushed cheeks occasionally. Still, those could also just be attributed to pregnancy and not any attraction to me. I know she's at the stage now where her hormones might make her want sex more than usual. And I desperately want to be the one to help her with it.

I follow her out as we both need to head home and get ready for the gala. Williamson Consulting Group purchases a table every year for select staff. We spend the night mingling with other professionals in our field and potential clients. Drew's role tonight is to take notes (discreetly, of course) and hand out business cards.

The event is a charity that raises funds through dinner plates and a silent auction for various causes. This year, the charity is a traveling library group. They help people start and maintain traveling libraries throughout the country to be able to service areas where books are scarce. As a former kid in the system, who relied heavily on books to make my life a little less bleak, I find this particular concept incredibly important. I've already had Drew donate a large sum on my behalf, outside of anything we might spend tonight.

"Will you at least let me drive you home at the end of the night?" We're both in the elevator, watching each other through the mirrored walls. It's such an odd design. I watch as her expression melts a little, and I know she's about to acquiesce.

"Fine, but no touching, hand holding, or leading me around with a hand on my back. No couple vibes." I nearly collapse against the elevator wall in relief. I spend most nights worrying about her getting home safe until I get her text saying she's in bed. She's so stubbornly independent it makes me want to scream sometimes.

---

When I enter the gala ballroom, I immediately scan the room for Drew. I don't see her immediately, and my anxiety instantly kicks up. I quickly check my phone to see if she texted or called but see nothing. I probably just beat her here.

"Damon!" I look up to find Matt, our Founder, and CEO coming my way. My smile is genuine as he approaches. The man has been my mentor for many years and, in some ways, is a father figure in my life. He'll be retiring soon, and WCG won't be the same without him. "How are you doing, son? Did you just get here?"