Page 5 of Enchant Me

Not that Damien will ever truly be over it; what happened to him in his youth both shaped him and haunts him. But I’d foolishly assumed that there was no one left who had the information or interest in using his childhood trauma as a hammer against him. Then to wield that hammer in order to break Damien down for their own purposes.

And the truth is, I can’t imagine who has done this. Who would have access to this video, and who would be ballsy enough to wield it.

“Jeremiah, possibly,” Evelyn says when I voice the question.

“He’s at the top of the list, of course, but he never had the original Richter photos, and these must have been part of that group. Something Sofia held back when she sent the originals to the court.”

Damien had been on trial for Richter’s murder, and the evidence had been bad, especially since Damien had refused to testify about the abuse. But then the images had been delivered anonymously to the court, proving the child abuse that Damien had desperately wanted to keep a secret and giving the court a reason to dismiss the charges.

Damien was given a copy of the images the court received, and I’ve seen them all. These weren’t in that package.

At the time, we’d suspected that Damien’s father, Jeremiah, had anonymously delivered the evidence to the court, but it turned out that he’d had no knowledge. It wasn’t until later that we learned that Sofia had delivered them.

“These could have belonged to anyone who knew Richter,” I say. “He could have sold them to some pervert who’s held onto them for years.” I frown, my thoughts raising another question. “And why now? What was the trigger?”

“I don’t know. We might never know. Not until whoever is behind this decides to show himself.”

“Sofia’s death, maybe? But it’s been so long.” It’s been over three years since Sofia died, taking a bullet to save me, her sacrifice both ironic and heartwarming considering that not long before, she’d truly wanted me dead.

“Wounds fester,” Evelyn said. “But it still leaves open the question of who. Perhaps she told someone what happened back then. Someone other than her therapists and doctors, that is.”

I frown, something else occurring to me. “Damien used to tell me about him and Sofia and Alaine hanging out together. I assumed all of that was while the abuse was going on, but Richter died when Damien was fourteen, and I’m sure he’s older than that in one of the photos of the three of them that he keeps in the library.”

Evelyn nods. “Those three were tight even after Richter’s death. Ultimately, Damien’s star rose, and that pulled him away even as Sofia’s issues came to the surface. She ended up getting help at the first of many residential facilities. As for Alaine, his parents decided to enroll him in boarding school before college. But until then, those three were thick as thieves.”

“But why was Sofia even there? Her father was dead. There was a new coach. Why was she still entwined in the tennis life at all?”

“Ah,” Evelyn says, her tone making clear she understands my confusion. “Sofia had no other family, so Alaine’s parents petitioned to be her guardian.”

“Oh,” I say. “Could one of them be behind—”

“I’m sorry to say they’re both dead. Killed in a car wreck many years ago. But I was quite close with both of them. If they were aware of the abuse, I think they would have started counseling for Sofia much earlier.”

I sigh, hating that there are no easy answers or obvious suspects. Hell, hating the whole thing. And most of all, hating the fact that Evelyn has been drawn into it as well, and on this of all days.

“I hate it, too,” she says when I say as much. “But tonight, I’ll be married to the man I love, just like you. So you go on now, Texas. We both know that yours needs you.”

She’s right, of course. And though Damien said he was going to go see to Frank, I’m confident that wasn’t his actual destination. So I kiss Evelyn on the cheek, then hurry downstairs, certain that I know exactly where he’ll be.

3

Pow! Blam, pow! Damien’s fists landed hard on the bag, one jab, then another and another. His shoulders and upper arms burned from the force of his punches, his knuckles raw and battered. He should have worn gloves or taped his hands. Damien knew that.

But he’d wear his Brioni suit like armor when he walked Evelyn down the aisle, so maybe no one would notice. He’d be Damien Stark, a man who exuded power. Who faced adversity head-on. And who was about to formally welcome a woman he’d known since childhood into his family.

Yeah. He could hide the pain, the frustration, the goddamn demons. Not a soul in those crisp white chairs would see through his disguise.

Except for Nikki.

She saw him clearer than anyone. She’d see. She’d know.

He hit the bag harder. A quick one-two punch. Was that why he was doing it? So she would see his pain? So that she’d pull him close and insist on holding him even though he’d pushed her away. Because, dammit, he needed her.

He always needed her.

But not like this, he thought as he brutalized the bag, his breath coming hard as his heart rate increased. Not tumbled sideways into memories he’d believed were finally—finally—buried. Memories that used to fill him with hate and regret. The same damn memories that once made him tighten his grip on his world, molding it to his own making in business, but leaving him cold and alone, even when he was surrounded by people who admired him. Who professed to love him, to want him.

Memories that had made him doubt if he’d ever truly love or be loved. Ever have a real family or a life punctuated by joy rather than pain and fear and self-recrimination and the constant struggle to hold tighter and do more just to prove that he could. Because if he couldn’t—if that control slipped through his fingers—then he was nothing more than that scared, broken, manipulated boy he’d tried so hard to leave behind.