Chapter 758 We have nothing to talk about

A month ago, when Damon arrived with Kael in New York, they both lodged at Damon’s penthouse before going to the office together the next day.

Damon introduced Kael to his assistant. “Darrel, meet Kael Vaughn, my good friend. Whenever I’m not around and he comes, allow him access to all company matters. Kael, this is my assistant, Darrel Bridge. He will help you with anything you need when you come without me.”

Darrel smiled warmly and extended his hand. “Nice meeting you, Mr. Vaughn. I look forward to working with you.”

“Same here,” Kael returned the smile, his grip firm and confident.

For the next week Damon took Kael through everything he needed to know. It was easy because Kael was serious with everything, absorbing details like a sponge, asking sharp questions that showed he was paying attention and missing nothing. Every department. Every protocol. Every hidden cog that kept the Locke Group running.

After Kael left for the Ashkael Holdings, Damon’s attention drifted to other important matters. He dialed a number only to realize he had been blocked. He frowned hard. Irritation prickled at the back of his neck, sharp and sudden.

He summoned his assistant.

“Darrel, has Quinn been here ever since my leave?”

Darrel’s head lowered. His shoulders tensed like he was bracing for impact. “Yes sir. And she was very upset when I told her you took an indefinite leave. She tried to reach you, but during those times you didn’t answer the phone. Sometimes it was switched off. The last time she left she was in tears.”

Damon felt guilt settle heavy in his chest, a weight that pressed down on his lungs until breathing became a chore. Quinn had been his childhood friend.

Even when his parents passed away she had been there for him, holding him together when grief threatened to tear him apart, sitting with him through the nights when he could not stop shaking.

Unlike most spoiled rich kids, Quinn was rather different. Genuine in a world full of masks. Warm in a world that had only ever shown him cold. The thought of her crying because of him twisted something deep in his gut.

“Can you call her?”

“Sir, I don’t have her number,” Darrel said helplessly, his expression apologetic.

Damon stretched out his hand. “Just give me your phone.”

Darrel unlocked the phone and passed it over. The moment Damon dialed, the call connected.

“Hello, who is this?” A honeyed voice responded at the end of the line. Something in Damon’s chest twisted hard at the sound of it.

Damon went silent, too ashamed to respond. His throat tightened until he thought he might choke on everything he needed to say. “Quinn. It’s me. Damon. Can we meet?”

The call ended instantly. The abrupt silence felt like a slap. When he dialed again it was switched off. The corner of Damon’s lips twitched. So much of a tantrum. But even as he thought it the guilt gnawed deeper, sharp teeth sinking into his conscience until he could barely stand still.

He stood up and picked up his jacket. “I might not be back for a few days. When I return I’ll have that meeting with the managers.”

The first place he went was the Grande residence, where Quinn lived with her parents. At the sight of him the security let him in without question. Quinn was not at home. The empty silence of the house pressed against him as he left, heavy and accusing.

He went straight to Grande Innovations, Quinn’s family company. It was not of billionaire status but it was quite successful. Her two brothers managed the company, and during Damon’s stay in the city Quinn had spent most of her time with him.

Being well known around, security let him in. He went to Quinn’s office only to be informed by the secretary that she had gone for lunch.

“Where?” Damon asked.

The secretary was about to respond when they heard footsteps in the hallway.

Damon could smell her familiar perfume before he even turned around. It was just as he expected. She was his mate. The bond hit him like a physical force, sudden and undeniable, locking into place the second he faced her.

However, he was not sure whether she felt it too, because what met his cheek was a painful slap. The crack of it echoed through the hallway. The sting bloomed hot across his skin. Then came the words that cut deeper than any claw.

“How dare you show your face here?”

Damon did not dare to touch his burning cheek. The tears in Quinn’s eyes pierced his soul, sharp and unforgiving, each one a blade he had forged himself.

Her long raven black hair had been curled. Her makeup was strangely heavy. Quinn never liked heavy makeup. She had always been effortless, natural, herself. Seeing her like this made the guilt sink even deeper.

“Quinn. I’m sorry. But can we talk?”

She shook her head, looking at him like he was a stranger, like he was something foreign and unwanted. Her voice shook with pure fury. “What is there to talk about? You said we couldn’t be more than friends. And you proved it by leaving without telling me. Then you refused to answer my calls. Do you have any idea what that did to me?”

Damon was even more guilty. The office staff were beginning to gather around. Whispers rippled through the hallway like water. Eyes burned into him from every direction. He was not only well known in Quinn’s life but also for his company. The public nature of the confrontation made everything worse.

“Quinn. Allow me to explain everything. Just give me twenty minutes. Please.”

His voice was pleading, raw and desperate, stripped of every ounce of pride he usually wore like armor. He looked around, feeling even more uncomfortable with all the curious gazes burning into him.

Every whisper felt like a fresh wound. But once again Quinn shook her head in refusal. Her jaw was set. Her eyes blazed with hurt and anger and something that looked terrifyingly like heartbreak.

“No, Damon. We have nothing to talk about. I’m getting married in two weeks.”