The Billionaire’s Valentine
Claire Walsh
Damon drank the remaining champagne in the glass he held and dropped it on the tray of a passing waiter. He took one look around the party, and after checking his time to confirm he had stayed long enough to be considered polite, he headed out the door. But just as he approached the door, he saw Senator Stewart and his wife coming in through the door. Not in the mood to accommodate the Senator and yet another inane conversation in the bid to curry his financial favor for the upcoming election, he turned around and walked towards the kitchen door.
Just as he was about to get to the door, he realized he should have probably said his byes to Jesse, one of his closest friends, and the person throwing the party to celebrate the new house he just bought. But he was not too worried about that. Jesse knew Damon was not a big fan of this shindigs and the only reason he had even bothered to attend this one was because Jonathan, another one of their friends had said he had something special to share. That special something had turned out to be the news that he was engaged to the woman he had been seeing for some months now. It was easy to congratulate Jonathan and Zoe, pat him on his back and wish him luck. And from seeing the both of them, it was easy to believe that what they had would stand the test of time.
But Damon was cynical about matters of the heart, the crack in his from his previous marriage had made him an unbeliever when it came to love. He and Abby had been a couple since high school. That puppy love of high school had turned into something more concrete in college and they had been together all through the period when he went through a trying phase with the board of the company employing him that ended up in him finally owning the company. They had gotten married soon after then, and at the insistence of his friends, he had made her sign a prenup.
Then she had asked him for a divorce after just four years of marriage, asking for an end to a relationship that had spanned decades. And her reason for this, his recent success had made him less and less available to him. At first, he had been too proud to beg, ask her to sit down and work with him towards finding a solution. He had genuinely thought she was just acting out and expected her to rescind her request for a divorce any day, right up until the day he signed the divorce papers. That was when the reality of it hit him. He asked her that day what happened, and she simply said they fell out of love.
He chose to believe they were never truly in love, because if love was what he thought it was, she was not supposed to leave him when he was working to make a better future for the both of them. A future she still managed to walk away from with a hefty sum of money. He didn’t mind the divorce settlement he paid though, a fact that annoyed his friends especially Jonathan. But Abby, for everything that she was and did, stayed with him and supported him when his company threw him out on his back and left him with nothing. She listened to him vent his frustrations and advised as best as she could, until he finally fought his way back into the company and right up to the top of it. She was a major part of the reason why he was as rich as he was now. So what if she was also the reason why he was a cynical, unfeeling bastard who would rather cut out his left hand than allow himself to feel anything.
Damon smiled as these thoughts ran through his head, a small curve of his lips that didn’t reach his eyes. He got to the service entrance that led to the kitchen where the waiters had setup and lifted his hand to push the door open. When the door opened and someone ran out, clattering into him. He remained on his feet, but the person was no so lucky and fell back against the door, pushing it open to land on the floor in the kitchen. Damon stepped through the doors checking to make sure the person was okay and after confirming that the fall was too soft to cause any real damage, looked down at his dinner jacket that was now spotting an extra layer of sauce right in front. He was about to reach out to help the victim up when he heard the person say, in a rather firm and irritated voice,
“I would think a human on the floor would demand more attention than a thousand dollar jacket.”
Damon looked up at her and in the few seconds before he answered, the only thing he could think was that her hair exactly matched her temperament. Flaming red hair held back in a ponytail.
“Three actually,” he answered with an insolent raise of his brow. “And I would think the dinner jacket deserves more attention seeing as you were the one who wasn’t looking at where she was going?”
She gasped and spluttered. Then jumped up to her feet, hands cocked on her waist as she stared up at him. And by up, way up as she barely reached his chin.
“I was looking at where I was going, you were the one walking like he was being chased by the hounds of Baskerville. Besides, I am a woman.”
Damon stared at her as if he had no idea what her statement was supposed to prove. “So?”
“It means you’re supposed to be a gentleman, but I guess that is too much to ask for. There is something to be said for chivalry, you know?”
Damon slowly shook his head, even as a part of him wondered what he was still doing arguing with her. “I used to think the same thing too. Then Abbie whooped my ass in grade six for saying I was stronger than her because I was a boy and so I should protect her.” He seemed to think about it and shifted to his other foot. “I tried to get revenge by telling everyone she was secretly a boy. Of course, she had her own revenge by making me take her to the school dance. And after all that, I still thought marrying her would be the perfect response. Of course she agreed, and then four years after she got the ultimate revenge when she divorced my ass.”
The diversion, so out of tone with their discussion had Francine blinking in confusion. “What?”
Damon looked down at her, noting the green of her eyes and then blinking himself. “My point is that you falling on your ass is in no way my fault. I’ll recommend Pilates for you though. I hear it helps build stamina.”
Francine growled at him. “And I’ll recommend that you take your advice and stick it where the sun don’t shine. Now excuse me, I have a room full of guest to take care of.”
That was when Damon looked down to see she was wearing the standard black and white uniform of a waiter with an apron tied around it. Shocked by the discovery, he watched her pick the tray she had been holding from the floor and begin to stack the plates on it.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked her, drawing himself to his full height.