To Charm A Billionaire (Men of Monaco Book 1) (2 page)

O
nce the door closed, silence dropped with the weight of a wet sandbag.

Unfair reality kicked on like a volume dial turned up. Damien stood at the edge of his latest crisis not daring a look in the dark abyss of his future.

Nausea churned a slow path into his belly. Air fought its way into his tight lungs. His heart pumped hard banging against the bones of his chest. Cold sweat sprinkled his skin. Icy cold. Prickly hot. His body couldn't make up its mind whether to descend into meltdown or speed into manic mode. 

What to do
? His lips mouthed the words. The question stayed on repeat in his head. Yet no clear answer came to mind. He pressed each heel of his hands to his temples. If he couldn't stop his brain from running on overload, he at least wished that he could press pause. His troubles stretched and frayed at the tether that kept him anchored.

His father's no-nonsense attitude was legendary. But Dane's zeal to be the messenger had the humiliating sting of an unexpected punch.

Damien wasn't a fool. This sabbatical offered to him was the short walk off the edge of the stage. They'd used his heart attack as the reason for the power move to shove him over to the sideline. His lie had come back to bite his ass. But the truth wasn't sexy. The Laurent family didn't show weakness. His panic attacks wouldn't have drawn sympathy much less understanding. He had to stay the course of a man with a weak heart judged for not working to his father's satisfaction.

Failed. Fired. Finished.

Damien pulled at his collar. He needed air. His throat tightened with anger. He needed a drink. "Where's the bloody Scotch?"

He didn't want to behave responsibly. He wanted to pour and toss back several shots until blindly drunk, then go to his bed and brood over life's handout. Maybe he should invite over one of his female acquaintances to temper his frustration with a mindless romp. Someone who wouldn't cling. The idea, however, barely drew his enthusiasm.

A soft knock on the door interrupted his angry musings. Damien hurriedly ran his fingers through his unkempt hair, swiped at any dampness on his forehead for good measure, and tucked his shirt into his pants before facing his mother. She had a keen eye.

"Come in." When the door didn't open, he repeated the invitation, clearer and louder.

His housekeeper opened the door and gently guided his mother into the room.

"Son, good to see you. Hope I'm not catching you at a bad time? Oh dear, you're looking a bit tired. Are you getting enough sleep?"

Damien smiled at his mom's critical observations. She didn't pause for him to reply. But that was his mom. Lots of chatter and good cheer with the healing power to relax the knots in his gut. His pulse settled down. His smile now broke into a wide grin. 

He hurried across the room to meet her and to take over from his housekeeper who hovered over his mother. "I can't believe you're standing next to me." He looked over her shoulder. "Your wheelchair?"

"I left it at home. Wanted to surprise you. Can't you tell? I'm feeling better." She patted his hand and then held on as he escorted her to the nearby sofa.

Lydia Jankowski Laurent barely reached his shoulder. Her stature might be petite and slim, but her spirit was a million miles of sweetness and positive vibes. Even when Philippe divorced her, she kept that chin from falling onto her chest in despair. Only his mother deserved the credit for being the consistent anchor during his tumultuous childhood spent bouncing between his parents' homes. A recent hip replacement wasn't going to stop her.

Damien wished that right now he had half her inner strength to face his suddenly precarious future. "I'm glad for your visit. Come in and tell me all about your miraculous recovery." He gently led her to the couch and positioned the decorative pillows out of her way. Then he remembered Dane's parting words. "There is someone here with you? Who did you bring to my den?" he whispered wearing the grin of a guy used to getting great gifts from his mom.

"Not yet." She waved away his protest. "Sit. Let me take this opportunity to catch up on your activities ... your life. Something is worrying you because you really do look tired." The perceptive eyes didn't let up on the inspection.

"There's nothing to catch up on. You told me to take a break and come out to Monaco. And voila, I left Paris. See, I obeyed your order."

"A request."

Damien surrendered to his mother's interpretation.

His mother continued, "You're running from your demons, from place to place, as if you can ever shake them off." She patted her chest. "When the heart is restless, the soul will know no peace."

"What guru are you visiting now?" he teased.

"You rude child. I came up with that pearl of wisdom myself." She looked up at him, her head tilted as if to study him. "Don't strain my neck. Sit."

Damien took the chair opposite hers. "I came to Monaco to rest, but so far, it's been anything but restful. So who did you drag up here to bother me?" Her delay with revealing his visitor stirred his curiosity.

"You only want to fix the parts you can see." She wagged a finger at him. "I'm aiming to fix the rest. But, you're an adult. Why should I bother?"

"You're making me suspicious." He thought about his mother's constant harangue that he get serious with his life. And get serious meant strike out on his path, away from the family business, but also it meant settling down. Despite her personal experience of a messy divorce from a powerful man, she remained an advocate of marital bliss. 

"Give me a hint. Who is it? I'm between relationships."

"Is that what you call your deeds? You're like a bee visiting each flower." His mother tutted with her disapproval.

"Bees do great things." He grinned.

"And I'd rather you didn't share those details." She leaned toward him and spoke softly as if his guest already stood in the doorway. "But it's time to grow up."

"For the record, I haven't broken any hearts here." This was his hideaway where he could come and relax. Any distraught women or ones with a need for revenge shouldn't be so close to home.

His mother offered up a secretive smile that set off an alarm. His brain flashed a few possibilities.

"You know I don't like surprises." He said irritably, with the sinking sensation that he soon won't be cheering on his mother's motives.

"I know, dear."

"And you do know that this isn't really a good time?" Damien's mood shifted into the gray range of annoyed.

"Yes, I know everything that happened today. I know why Dane came." She sighed. "That's why I visited with a friend." She held up her phone on which she'd just texted. "And ... here she is."

Damien was stunned that his mother knew the full details of his sabbatical and didn't give him a warning. That revelation had to wait. His attention stayed riveted at the door. Footsteps approached, unhurried and crisp, then slowed as the latest, hopefully last, intruder stood outside the door.

"Come in." His mother's voice delivered with a regal boom.

Damien didn't shift his gaze. His body stayed tensed, slightly angled on the edge of the chair as he waited for the doors to open.

Framed between the partially opened doors a woman stood in full view. She didn't move. Familiar thoughtful green eyes met his gaze. Meanwhile, his throat choked the airflow, as if he'd suffered an allergic reaction and the muscles squeezed shut. His heart pumped and he barely wondered if he'd be suffering another anxiety attack.

His guest walked into the room. No hesitation in her approach. His fingers gripped the curled edge of the armrest, as he pushed out of the chair. God, his legs felt wonky. Took a bit of concentration to remain standing and holding onto his cavalier façade.

"Ta da!" His mother smiled. Her gaze swept to him for his approval of her good job.

The woman who scorched his memory with her imprint stood in front of him.

The woman who walked away from him a week before their wedding was now in his suite.

The woman who took her family's suggestion of a more suitable companion came bearing the gift of a timid smile.

His woman
.

"Hi, Damien."

Right then the sound of her soft, sweet voice like honey dripping on his tongue seductively pushed past the lock snapped into place around his hardened heart.

"Anna ... ?"

The lingering hurt, anger, and confusion flip-flopped to the rear where the rest of his insecurities resided.

A surprising thread of elation unwound and gelled with the spattering of hope.

"Good to see you." He wheezed like a man making his last gasp.

"
G
ood
to see you, also. It's been a while." Anna di Torino prayed that her smile stayed in place. Already her left cheek twitched under the strained effort.

His head bobbed slightly. Maybe he agreed with her sentiment. Or not. He didn't copy her attempt at a smile.

She'd done a number of affirmations to get to this point—to stand in front of Damien. To face him.

The shocking news of his heart attack had hit hard but provided the right motivation to come.
Was he going to be okay
?

However, she didn't mind confessing that she wanted back to her safe zone. A speedy retreat to Italy with a definitive, official border between them. That would be the cowardly way out, though. And she didn't back away from challenges. Not surprising that now her composure froze into a tight shield to hide that really she was a wobbly, jittery mess.

"I ran into your mother ... she'd visited ... ." Anna didn't want to slip up and admit that Lydia had opened the door to his private goings on.

Lydia cleared her throat but didn't interrupt.

He nodded. His expression of polite indifference tightened as if sealing it into place forever. No signs of surprise over her sudden appearance.  No thaw in the icy-blue gaze to suggest that she was a welcomed distraction. He met her probing gaze with unblinking, candid regard.

The scrutiny touched her face as if he reacquainted himself with the contours of her face. Her breath hitched as a wave of nostalgia rocked her soul.

"I know this must be ... a shock." She stumbled over her words, offering her hand again since he hadn't taken hers to return the greeting.

"More like curious." His shoulders shrugged as if denying his own statement. Finally, he took her hand in a gentle clasp.

Her breath hitched remembering how he'd kiss the top of her hand after they'd been apart from each other. Didn't matter if it was for a couple hours or a couple days. The symbolic gesture used to be their special ritual to reconnect.

But she'd ripped that sentiment apart for good.

"I was on today's itinerary?" His mocking tone left no doubt that he wasn't overcome with any nervous flutters in the belly over her visit.

Only she appeared to be the nervous wreck.

"I had business in Monaco," she lied. "Ran into Lydia who was on her way to see you." She looked over to his mother, hoping for the older woman's visible support.

"I was so glad to see Anna—beautiful, as ever." His mother beamed at them.

He turned away from Anna and now pinned his dark mood on his mother. Although they shared similar features, they displayed extreme opposites in emotions.

"Why are you glaring at me? I know you're in a disagreeable mood. Honestly, you can't deny that Anna looks absolutely stunning."

"Stunning," he echoed in a flat, almost bored, voice.

Anna bit back the urge to respond. Her feelings were shaky. However, this wasn't a let's-get-reacquainted visit, but one to assess if Lydia's worries were on point about her son's wellbeing. And there was also Lydia's opinion that Damien hadn't recovered from their unnecessary break-up. His mother had stayed loyal to her advice that they only needed to listen to their hearts and all would be well.

Anna aimed for stability rather than the pitfalls of headlong giddy dive toward romance land.

"Make yourself comfortable." He waited until Anna opted for the single chair. "Drinks?"

"I'm fine." Nervous flutters started as if fireflies flooded her belly with their wings whirring and their lighted torsos offering a warming glow.

"Looks like you may need a wine spritzer."

He remembered. She liked a wine spritzer on warm days. And although the temperature was mild outside, the same couldn't be said for the room. Her body reacted as if subjected to a heat lamp and interrogation spotlight.

He offered her the three-quarter filled glass with a thin round slice of lime perched on its rim.

"Thanks." She almost didn't take the drink knowing the inevitable outcome. Their fingers brushed together and then it was over. Her breath hissed out with embarrassing loudness.

A knowing smile tugged an uplift to his mouth. She latched on to the ray of sunshine although feeling like she was on the verge of drowning with his close proximity. God, he smelled good. And he was too gorgeous for her good. Thick black hair skillfully cut to show off the natural waves framed the angular face that ended with a sharp chin. There was no part of this man that didn't draw her admiration. His profile was something to behold with its hearty masculine features perfectly crafted and emphasized for her enjoyment. Those lips—kissable, relaxed, and full—gave as well as received much sensual pleasure.

A sweet longing blossomed and she crossed her legs to hold it all in. But she couldn't stop staring, admiring, remembering what those lips had done to her. Her thighs tightened from the delicious recall of his mouth and tongue branding her flesh with their attention. She licked her lips due to the sudden dryness in her throat and took a long, grateful gulp of the spritzer.

"So what are both of you up to?" he asked after he settled in another nearby chair.

Anna blurted. "Are you feeling better?" If her mouth could be a vacuum, it would suck back the words.

"Was I supposed to be sick?" His expression hardened heavy laden with suspicion.

"Well, no ... I thought..." She dared not look at Lydia. "The newspapers speculated ...." She hoped for his stormy expression to dissipate in exchange for the usual stoicism.

"Ah, I see you
still
have a soft spot for the gossip columns."

Those gossip columns had slithered into their lives and grew roots of discord like vile weeds. Candid photos of Damien and a curvaceous brunette's ass pressed against his pelvis at a nightclub was only one of many photos in her face. Or the Instagram post by a silly young thing saying she'd marry this Laurent brother.

Anna was used to those claims. But she wasn't used to being photoshopped out with the desperate women inserting their image next to Damien. And she wasn't expecting Damien to be amused and supportive with his emoticons and LOLs. To him, there was no harm done.

He was always outgoing. Always the life of the party. Always drawing anyone in his vicinity for the party of their lives. Downshifting was never an option for him. His appetite for life was limitless. His appetite for sex scared her. He was like the intrepid explorer willing to try new things and conquer new planes. Hanging on to him felt as if she'd need to cut the safety rope and trust that he wouldn't let her drop. That she couldn't do. But despite it all, she could admit to herself that she truly had missed him.

Lydia reached over and closed a warm hand over Anna's and winked. "You are so busy these days with the modeling and family responsibilities. Having to deal with all of that while handling your mother's illness. I do hope that she gets better soon."

"Mama's resting comfortably since we've moved her back home. She misses you." Lydia and her mother were best friends.

"My cursed knee and hip have kept me off my feet longer than I'd expected. After surgery, it took a few months to stop relying on the wheelchair." The older woman sighed deeply. "I haven't kept up with my friends like your dear mother. I'd plan to do so as soon as I could." Lydia flexed and pointed each foot accompanied with a slight grimace.

"I'm glad that you're here in Monaco for the next few days. We can both see what Damien is up to since he can't seem to make time for his mother." Lydia turned a critical eye on him. "Takes a heart attack to get him to stay in one place long enough for these old legs to catch up with him."

Anna watched the rosy flush spread over Damien's face. The glowering eyebrows were back. She wanted to laugh but bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself in check. He always hated when his mother fussed over him and now she'd open the door to his private life.

"It's not that serious." He waved off his mother's comment. "However, now that my schedule is suddenly open thanks to my family ... " He paused for such a long time that Anna looked from him to Lydia for any clue about the undercurrent hostile vibe. He continued, "I don't plan to stick around here any longer."

"Oh, but you must change your plans. After all, Anna is here." Lydia didn't hide her irritation toward her son.

Anna vehemently shook her head. "Please, don't change your schedule on my account. I only popped in because—"

"Stop it, child." Lydia's sharp protest cut through Anna's retreat from this uncomfortable situation. "Both of you
need
to catch up." She pointed at Damien and then at Anna. "And you should appreciate this smart woman."

"Who said I didn't?" he shot back.

Lydia grinned, clearly reading her son's signals all wrong. Nothing in the way he responded meant that this turned into an agreeable moment.

"We all know Anna is blessed with good looks
and
brains." His offering didn't sound like a compliment.

She winced. A wave of shame washed over in a frigid bath of regret.

Those were her words. Sort of. Her accusation during one of their heated arguments still rang in her head—
You, Damien Laurent, have been blessed with good looks. Too bad it wasn't a package deal with the brains.

But Lydia hadn't caught on that the terrain had turned decidedly frosty. His mother barreled ahead. "Successful model to managing parts of the di Torino international business. The world is already seeing the beauty and the brains." Then she clapped her hands together, always the enthusiastic supporter.

"Wonderful! The climb up the ladder happened as planned for you." Damien took aim at her conscience.

"Why are you sounding disrespectful?" His mother pressed her lips together.

"I'm not disrespectful, merely congratulating Anna that everything worked out, as she wanted. Career in place. Personal life in place. The rewards are raining down." His mockery poked at her unmercifully.

Anna wanted to punch him in the nose. Their families' lineage always stood between them like misshapen mounds of obstacles that threatened to fall at any crisis, small or large. Her mother had a direct line to Italian nobility and her father's family could trace his lineage to a 16th-century artist supported by the Medici family. She'd make no apologies about her upbringing, although she did face Damien's misunderstanding that it mattered to her that his father built up his company and wealth without the benefit of a family dynasty.

Lydia waved her handkerchief between them to break the tension. "This was supposed to be a happy occasion. A time to put aside bruised egos. Be friends again."

"It's a bit too late for the happy ever after, mother. Anna, you see, changed the game to fit her rules. I've accepted the outcome." He turned to his mother. "And so should you."

Anna wanted to save Lydia from answering. "I don't want to intrude any further." She stood. "I came to see how you were doing because of your mother's concern."

"My medical history is no one's business outside of the family." Damien's voice dropped low but stayed crisp.

"Anna, help me up so I can slap sense into my son's head." Lydia huffed, looking visibly frustrated that she didn't have the strength to push up from her seat.

"Mother, you shouldn't tax your energy." He tilted his head. "Should I be honored by Her Grace's visit?"

"I'm still Anna." She recalled the title he'd whisper in her ear after they made love:
my adorable Anna
.

"And on that note, we can call this visit over," he stated.

"As you wish." Anna couldn't deny the surges of anger as Damien made grand gestures toward the door.

"Don't go," Lydia cried out. She tried to get up again, and this time, Damien helped her to her feet. Then she slapped away his hand. "I came with Lydia, but I will need a taxi."

"Oh no, I can drive you," Anna said.

"Not to worry. I don't want either of you going anywhere until you've worked out the kinks between you. I know my son is hard headed. And Anna I know you're a proud woman. I hope you can set aside differences before you head back to Italy. Too much time has already past."

Damien pursed his mouth but remained silent.

Anna wanted to protest on principle. But she loved Lydia and thought her suggestion to want a temporary ceasefire to be a valid one.

"Wonderful." His mother clapped her hands. Then she leaned in and hugged Anna. Her smile was so bright. "Now, I'll leave. I can catch up with Damien, later."

Anna watched as Damien gently escorted his mother out of the room. Once alone, she exhaled a long, deep breath and tried to gather her wits. Not a day went by that she didn't think about Damien.

"Why are you really here?"

Anna jumped. She hadn't heard Damien's return to the room.

She was the bad guy in the room and nothing she said would pry the label off her shoulders or dilute the indictment. But she hated to surrender to his aloof behavior. She pushed back her doubts. "I'd love if you'd accompany me to the opera, tonight."