The Husband Beside Me (The Devil Trilogy Book 2) (11 page)

Daimon and I had avoided what had happened, even though flashes of that night would come back to me, making my body heat with desire. Daimon was beyond easy on the eyes, but he and I were fire and ice. We simply didn’t mix.

“Well, the movie ended pretty quickly,” Daimon said as he headed toward me, walking on my father’s walkway.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, surprised at seeing.

“I’m here to get you. There’s a pretty strong snowstorm forecast. I didn’t want you to use it as an excuse to not come home,” he winked.

I smiled at him, wondering what the real reason was.

****

We walked into the penthouse, a stark difference from my father’s festive fiesta with multicolored lights and gaudy Christmas decorations. The penthouse was stunning with rich, deep dark colors and clean lines. Only once did I mention to Daimon about getting a Christmas tree.
“Don’t you dare!”
he hissed.
“I hate Christmas!”
Great! Three years have to go by before I was able celebrate my favorite time of the year.

As I walked in and took off my boots, I could smell something distinctive. I passed a happy Drako and walked into the living room. There by the large floor-to-ceiling window stood one of the largest Christmas trees I had ever seen. The white lights had already been woven in, making the tree glow softly. A large box was set on the floor with various expensive looking ornaments.

“What is this?” I asked softly as I walked toward it.

The smell of the fresh pine tree brought back very vivid memories of my mother and me going and picking up our tree at the local market.

“You wanted a tree,” he remarked.

I reached up and touched a branch. Its needles were supple and pliable.

“I thought you said no.” I looked back to see him leaning against the wall, gazing at me.

“I did, but you looked so pitiful when I said no, that I felt like I owed you one,” he shrugged.

“Pitiful?” I cocked an eyebrow.

“Yeah, pitiful. You looked like you were about to cry, like a fat kid who couldn’t get dessert,” he laughed.

“I’m going to overlook your last comment because the tree is beautiful,” I remarked, giddy as I put my bag down and took off my jacket. I knelt down and began petting Drako.

“See, Drako, even the Grinch has a heart,” I said as I scratched his belly.

“The Grinch has nothing on me,” Daimon laughed.

“You can say that again,” I mocked.

I got ahead of myself by putting on Christmas music when Daimon went upstairs to change. I figured he wouldn’t say anything if it was already playing.

Snow was gently falling. The snowstorm Daimon had mention was starting. Big fluffy snowflake clusters softly descended onto the barren streets down below. Manhattan looked like a blank canvas of pure white untouched snow. I gazed onto the wonderment now because the next day, this sweet calmness would be gone and the regular chaos of New York City would take it all away.

“What the fuck is playing on my stereo?” he seethed as he made his way down.

“Her name is Judy Garland and it’s called “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”,” I replied as I walked away from the window and headed to the box on the floor.

“I relented on the tree, but the music has to go,” he insisted.

“You can huff and puff all you want, but I refuse to stop this music. Every time we put up the tree at home my mother used to put on this music,” I said as I carefully picked up an elegant glass ornament.

“Your mother died years ago,” he muttered as he sat down watching me. Drako jumped up and sat beside him.

“Yes, but I kept up the tradition at home with Sofia,” I said, not wanting him to know his comment truly hurt me.

Every year I did this was a way to atone for what I had done. I wanted her remembered for all the thoughtful things she did for us. I wanted her memory alive and well, especially at Christmas.

“Is Sofia coming?” he asked, petting Drako.

“No,” I sighed heavily. It was going to be our first Christmas apart.

“Why?”

“She said she wanted to stay there,” I muttered as I placed a large hand-painted globe of a classic Santa.

“I’ll drive her down,” Daimon offered.

“Don’t bother. I mean I don’t really blame her. She’s starting a new life and it’s the first time she gets to make these kinds of decisions. She’s finally growing wings. I’m not going to cut them off for her,” I said sadly. Of course, I wanted Sofia here with us, but I couldn’t very well make her spend time with us. She needed to live her own life.

“That’s bullshit! At Christmas, you guys spend it together. She’s being selfish,” Daimon refuted.

“So what? Let her. She’s eighteen. It’s now that she’s supposed to experience life.” I walked around the tree and found a nice spot for a hand-crafted glass snowflake.

Daimon sat, continuing to watch as I decorated the tree. I had no idea that such expensive and lavish ornaments existed yet here they were at my feet as I put them up.

“Don’t you get tired of listening to this shit and doing that? It seriously looks tedious,” Daimon commented.

“It’s once a year,” I said, annoyed. “What, Mommy dearest didn’t celebrate Christmas with you?” I taunted.

I waited for Daimon’s usual banter, but when he didn’t say anything, I looked back to see him sitting on his couch, his arm laid across the top, while Drako had curled up near his lap. Daimon’s sky-blue eyes turned cold as he narrowed them at me.

“Not all mothers were like yours,” he said coldly.

He then stood, making his way to the kitchen. Wow, did the cold front just hit inside? I watched as Daimon took out a long-stem wine glass and began pouring himself a dark merlot.

“Come on, Daimon. You can’t actually make me believe you had a hard life,” I teased again. Daimon ignored me and focused on drinking his wine.

“You were born with a platinum spoon in your mouth, so whatever is bugging you, I highly doubt it was that bad,” I laughed. He placed his glass down and peered at me, through his now glacier eyes.

“You think because your mother died it gives you the right to be pitied. You act like you’re the only one who’s had such a tragic life. I honestly wonder, Addie, who you would be if you didn’t use it as a crutch. At times, I’m not going to lie, you look downright pathetic,” he spat out. His venomous words spread through me like a poison.

“You’re right. I do use it as a crutch. However, I’m not like you. I say it when I’m hurt, while you hide behind your eloquent ways of destroying a person. I might look pathetic in your eyes, but to me, you’re worthless. You think your money can buy you everything you want. Well, it can’t!” I snapped.

“It bought me you,” he said maliciously.

“I know, but I at least have a family, unlike you who seems to hate his,” I said menacingly.

“Do you think your family actually loves you after what you did?” he smirked. His grin was evil at best. “I mean, come on, think about it, not only do you claim to have killed your mother, you sell yourself to the highest bidder. What family could love someone like that?” he sneered.

I stopped myself from going any further. This was the angry Daimon, the hateful one, the one who lashes out, wanting others to feel pain, not caring how far he had to go to do it.

“Do you feel better?” I asked coldly.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“I’m asking you if you feel better. Does it make you feel like a man to completely destroy another? Does it somehow make you feel whole? You go at me like I’m nothing but a fucking punching bag. Yes,
you
bought me so I guess you have some sort of right to do what you like. But I was just wondering how it makes you feel to do this?” I asked him honestly.

I gently put down the clear globe I had in my hands and I waited, feeling like I had been through a firing squad.

“I put up a Christmas tree for a lot of reasons but mainly because it was the very last thing I ever did with my mother. She and I would buy one together and decorate it. It’s the very last happy memory I have. I’m sorry if my need for this brought out something that obviously is fucked up in you.” I bit the inside of my lip and headed upstairs, but stopped at the very first step. “I really don’t get you. I think you’re an asshole most of the time, but then you do something like this.” I pointed to the tree. “And I think, wow he has a kindness about him. But you always find a way to just fuck it all up, Daimon-style,” I barked and left.

I stepped out of the bathroom ready for bed. The enigma that was Daimon was someone I didn’t think I would ever understand. He could be thoughtful and understanding, but he could be cruel and hateful. His words, even though I tried desperately to wash away, lingered inside my mind. I lay down onto the bed and pulled back the duvet. It had been a month since I married Daimon and I was already exhausted by him. The thought of three years was enough to make me want to give up and sever the contract.

The moment Daimon walked into the bedroom I turned my body to face the window next to me. I could barely feel the bed dip as he sat down.

“I’m sorry,” he said ruefully. “Christmas isn’t easy for me.”

“Well, it isn’t easy for me either,” I said softly.

I was startled the moment Daimon’s arm wrapped itself around me.

“I’m not going to bite,” he said flatly.

“You did before,” I fired back, fighting my tears.

“I know. I know,” he whispered as he hugged me. His very smell tickled my nose. His other arm slid from underneath me and coiled itself around my waist. Daimon held me. His head nestled in the back of my neck. I felt safe, warm, protected. We fell asleep, nursing our open wounds. The very wounds we inflicted on each other.

It was early Christmas morning. I made Daimon and Drako a special Christmas breakfast. Even the Grinch deserved a special meal. The both of them entered the kitchen, one looked very crabby. Yeah, Daimon was a total Grinch, while the other looked like his faithful dog Max. I laughed at the irony.

“What’s this?” Daimon asked, his hair messy and very sexy as he stood at the dining room table.

“Food. I made you guys breakfast.” I smiled, trying to be cheerful, which was difficult since I was forced to go to Daimon’s Christmas party the following night. He gave me a one-day warning, like I had nothing else to do. I wanted to see my father at least.

“Hey!” I cried out when I saw him give Drako a piece of French toast. “What are you doing?”

“I’m having Drako test the food. If he lives, then I’ll eat.” He smiled his devilish little grin.

“Fine! Don’t eat it,” I huffed as I took his plate away.

“Relax, I was just joking.” He laughed and took back his plate.

I watched as both of them ate. Drako loved his baked doggie treat, while Daimon seemed to love the various little treats I had made.

“Do I really have to go tomorrow night?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said as he took his coffee cup.

“I was planning on seeing my dad,” I said, hoping he’d relent.

“Go today,” he said.

“But today is Tuesday,” I said, remembering our deal.

“We’ll go together. Call him and make sure to let him know we are going over.”

“Really?” I said, stunned.

“I’m an asshole, but sometimes I’m not.”

I giggled, remembering my gift for him under the tree.

“Come on, Drako. Let’s see what Santa got you this year.” I patted my legs as I walked over to the tree.

“You seriously got the dog a gift?” he mocked.

“It’s a stupid chew toy that’s good for his teeth.” I sat down and gave him the bone shaped toy. Drako took it and ran around the house, finally settling down in a quiet spot and began chewing on it.

“Come on, Grinch, you too,” I said, motioning for him to come and sit down next to me.

“I don’t do gifts,” he said dryly.

“Yes, I know, but I do, so sit your ass down.” I pointed to the couch. He begrudgingly stood up, headed to the couch and sat down. I took out a nicely gift-wrapped box and gave it to him.

“I’m assuming it’s not a hot woman,” he smiled as he shook the box.

“Shut up and open it.”

He ripped the box open to find a t-shirt. “Did you seriously get me a t-shirt that says I’m an asshole?” He took it out and examined the grey t-shirt. When I’d spotted it, I couldn’t resist how perfect it was for him.

“Yes,” I chuckled.

Daimon laughed, he genuinely laughed and my heart skipped a beat. Watching him laugh at my gag gift made me want to reach out and hug him, but I pushed the thought out of my mind.

“Here.” I gave him a small box. “It’s nothing really special.”

He pulled off the paper and opened the box. It was a pair of black cufflinks. They looked just like something he’d wear. They were made of titanium, and were intricately carved.

“They’re beautiful,” he said, low into his chest as he looked at them.

I shrugged. “Whatever. You paid for them.” I laughed, making light at how much this moment really affected me. It was the first Christmas I didn’t feel sad or upset. I actually felt somewhat happy.