Chapter 8 - THE MAN BEHIND THE NAME
Damian never told me the full story of how he met Dad.
So I finally demanded it.
We sat on my apartment floor eating Chinese food.
Not exactly the setting I'd imagined for a mafia confession.
“I was twenty-four,” Damian said.
“My father ordered me to collect a debt from a trucking company.”
“Collect how?”
“You know how.”
I did.
Damian continued.
The truck owner couldn't pay.
Damian's men started destroying vehicles.
Then Gavin walked out of the repair bay.
My father.
Fifty-something.
Grease on his hands.
No weapon.
He told six armed men to stop.
I laughed.
“That sounds like Dad.”
Damian smiled.
“I told him to mind his business.”
“What did he say?”
“‘It became my business when you started breaking things I just fixed.’”
I laughed so hard I cried.
Damian did too.
Then his expression changed.
One of Damian's men pulled a gun.
Gavin stepped between them.
Not because Damian deserved protection.
Because Dad refused to let anyone die in his shop.
Police sirens approached.
Damian escaped through the rear.
Months later, he returned alone.
He expected Gavin to demand money.
Instead, Dad gave him coffee.
Then asked:
“How long are you planning to spend becoming a man you don't even like?”
Damian never forgot it.
Neither did I.
“Why did Dad give you the ring?”
“Because years later, when he learned what I was trying to change, he decided I might be useful.”
“Might?”
“He enjoyed keeping me humble.”
I smiled.
Then Damian looked at me.
“He talked about you constantly.”
My throat tightened.
“What did he say?”
“That you straightened crooked pictures in hotel rooms.”
I laughed through tears.
“That you hated olives.”
“Correct.”
“That you pretended not to cry at dog movies.”
“Lies.”
“And that the biggest mistake of his life was letting his pride keep you away from the Ashcrofts.”
I became quiet.
“He wanted you to have family.”
“I had him.”
“I know.”
Damian touched my hand.
I didn't pull away.
“Your father didn't want me to protect you.”
That surprised me.
“What?”
“He specifically said you'd hate that.”
“He knew me.”
“He asked me to make sure you got the ring.”
“That's all?”
“That's all.”
“So everything after that—”
“My choice.”
His fingers closed gently around mine.
“And yours.”
There it was.
No rescue.
No debt.
No dead father's command forcing us together.
Choice.
I kissed him first.
Damian froze for approximately half a second.
Then kissed me back.
Slow.
Careful.
Nothing like the dangerous man newspapers described.
When we separated, I whispered:
“Dad would be unbearable about this.”
Damian smiled.
“He'd charge me for labor.”
“For what?”
“Fixing my life.”
I laughed.
Then my phone rang.
Marcus.
“Elena.”
“What happened?”
“Kessler confessed.”
I sat up.
“To Dad?”
“Yes.”
But Marcus sounded strange.
“What else?”
Silence.
“Kessler says Gavin knew he was going to die.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“And apparently Uncle Gavin left one final message.”
“Where?”
Marcus swallowed.
May you like
“With Rowan.”
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