gently. ‘Why not one like you?’
Such a casual sounding question, yet it was loaded. Full of sharp edges like a handful of broken glass.
Perhaps I shouldn’t have told him about my reckless adoption request, not when Mr Chen’s refusal didn’t exactly reflect well on me. Still, it was too late now.
I swallowed. ‘He thought I needed to be calmer, quieter. That I was too needy. Too emotional. I tried to be calm and quiet, all those things, I really tried, but—’ I stopped.
Damian was silent, his fingers on my skull moving in that gentle, massaging motion. Then at last he said, almost reluctantly, ‘I have an eidetic memory. It makes me very, very good at remembering things.’
I blinked at the change of subject then found myself holding my breath. Because he’d given me something, hadn’t he?
‘I...see,’ was all I managed.
‘No, you don’t.’ He let out a breath. ‘The problem with remembering everything is that you end up forgetting nothing.’
I wasn’t sure why but a chill collected in my gut. ‘You don’t forget anything? Ever?’
There was no smile this time. ‘No. Not a single fucking thing.’
Damian
FROM THE EXPRESSION on Thea’s face, I knew she didn’t understand. Why would she? No one did. Memories ate away at you, sank their teeth into you, and for most people it was time that made them let go. But not for me.
Time did nothing for me. Those memories remained as real and as sharp as the day they’d been laid down.
The sight of my mother’s beautiful face gone gaunt, hollowed out by her illness. The sound of her voice, ragged and uneven, asking me to make something of myself. Asking me to look after Morgan and make sure she was happy.
Thea’s eyes darkened slowly and the crease between her brows deepened. ‘Why don’t you forget things?’
I didn’t like talking about it. When I was a kid, I’d used my memory to impress other kids, like a dog doing tricks. But then as I’d got older, and realised what a fucking curse it was, I’d kept it quiet. Sure, it had helped me build the empire I had now, but it was a double-edged sword all the same.
Thea’s hair was silky against my fingers, the delicate curve of her skull fragile. It was soothing to touch her, though I wasn’t sure why. Luckily she didn’t seem to mind.
‘My memory is eidetic,’ I said reluctantly. ‘And I have perfect recall. I remember everything.’
I probably shouldn’t have told her and I don’t know why I did. Our conversation had turned quickly into something I hadn’t been expecting and what I should have done was to turn it back to flirty and fun.
But, given what she’d told me about her past and her mentor, about how she’d wanted him to adopt her and how he’d refused, changing the subject had seemed...wrong. And, more importantly, dismissive.
She was so guarded, yet she’d told me things that were intensely private, not to mention painful. And I had no idea why she wanted to trust me with those things, but I couldn’t repay a confidence like that by pretending they meant nothing.
I’d had to give her something in return.
‘That’s amazing.’ The crease between her brows deepened as she searched my face. ‘It’s not amazing?’
‘No.’ It was only one word, but it was the only one I could say.
She was silent a moment, studying me. ‘No,’ she echoed. ‘I guess it wouldn’t be. Especially, I imagine, when you have things you want to forget.’
I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to go into it. And she seemed to understand, because she lifted her hand and touched me again, her cool fingertips brushing over my mouth. ‘I suppose most people forget the bad stuff over time.’ Her fingers trailed down to my jaw. ‘You don’t?’
‘No,’ I repeated, the word far too short and far too hard. ‘But, hey, that doesn’t stop me from trying.’ I forced out my usual smile, not wanting to think about why it was suddenly difficult when it had never been difficult before. A smile covered everything, even the cracks in a person’s soul.
But Thea ignored it, her expression serious. ‘What are you trying to forget?’
‘Careful, Sugar.’ I kept my tone light, because I didn’t want to talk about this any more. ‘Not sure you know me well enough to ask that question.’
She looked contrite. ‘Sorry. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.’
‘Good. Because that’s not why you’re here, okay?’ I curled my fingers into a fist, her hair silky and soft against my skin as I drew her head back a little, baring her throat. ‘You’re here so we can both make each other feel good, and talking about the past is not part of that.’ I leaned forward and brushed my mouth over her throat, inhaling the familiar scent of my shower gel and the sweet smell of her body underlying it.
She sighed, relaxing against me, the warm weight of her in my lap both arousing and calming at the same time, which I’d had no idea was even possible.
‘Okay,’ she murmured. ‘So, tell me the good things you remember, then.’
That surprised me. I lifted my head and stared down at her. ‘Good things?’ I repeated blankly.
‘Yes. You must have some good memories.’
Did I? Did I have any? For a second I couldn’t even think.
I could tell her about the different pieces I’d collected or the women I’d fucked. The fine wines I’d drunk or the parties I’d attended. But all those suddenly felt empty. Meaningless crap I’d cluttered my head with so I didn’t have to think about the bad stuff.
But the problem with meaningless crap was that it hid the good stuff too.
‘Good memories,’ I murmured, looking past her, thinking. ‘Yeah, there are a few. Hanging out with my mother in her dressing room, watching her get ready for a show.’ I smiled, remembering. ‘She loved dancing. Got all excited about it. And she always looked so pretty and glittery, laughing with the other dancers.’ I glanced down at Thea. ‘I was a serious kid, kind of boring, but she always made me smile. Made things fun. Sometimes she let me choose which costume she wore and all the accessories that went with it.’
A ghost of a smile turned Thea’s mouth, faint but definitely there. ‘You? Serious?’
‘Yeah, I know. Impossible to believe, right? It’s true, though.’ Before the weight of all those responsibilities crushed me. Before I’d sent Morgan away, getting rid of the last burden. A selfish move; I knew that. But I’d had to protect myself somehow, because no one else was going to do the job.
‘So
