Chapter 30 Between Shame and Shelter
POV Scarlett:
My head is pounding when I open my eyes. Flashes from the night before reel through my mind like the worst movie I’ve ever seen. My father humiliated me. Tears sting my eyes as I remember his words, the disgust in his gaze. He had never looked at me that way—not even when he found out about me and the Hawthornes.
A thought crosses my mind. I remember leaving with Mr. Damian. I sit up abruptly, scanning the room in alarm.
Where am I?
After getting into his car, everything is a blur. I remember crying—a lot—but nothing else. Did he bring me to a hotel? I look around more closely and walk to the window. No, this isn’t a hotel. Am I in his house? He wouldn’t have brought me here… would he?
A knock at the door pulls me out of my thoughts.
“Can I come in?” I recognize Mr. Liam’s voice but stay silent.
“What are you doing?” Damian’s deeper voice makes me freeze in place. “Leave her alone, she needs to rest. What were you thinking, going into her room?”
“Relax, Damian. I was only going to ask if she’s hungry or needs anything.”
The condescending tone in his voice makes me shrink back. Damian must have told him what happened.
“If she needs something, she’ll tell us herself. Don’t disturb her—Scarlett needs rest. Weren’t you going to shower?”
“I’m going, Dad.”
Their voices fade, and I let out a sigh of relief. I’m not ready to see any of them—not yet. The shame is eating me alive. The shocked faces of my coworkers are still vivid in my memory. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to walk out of this room.
“Scarlett?” Damian’s voice again. “I imagine you’re awake by now.”
I stay silent.
“If you want to take a shower, there are towels in the bathroom. I’ll leave a shirt and some sweatpants by the door… they’re mine, but they’re clean… shit,” he mutters. “I mean, you can wear them. I’ll go out later to buy you some clothes.”
I take a few steps toward the door, gathering the courage to open it—but then he speaks again.
“I hope you’re not mad that I’m buying them. You know what? I’ll just call a store and have them delivered. That way, you won’t be mad when you see the new panties.”
My face burns, but I finally open the door.
His eyes widen when he sees me. The intensity of his gaze makes me swallow hard. Damian steps back, running a hand through his hair, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Good morning,” he says, picking up the clothes from the floor and handing them to me. “For you.”
I look at his hands, then back at his face.
“Thank you, Mr. Blackwell.” I take the clothes, my fingers brushing his accidentally.
“Damian. You can call me Damian.”
I nod quickly, unable to stay in his presence much longer.
“Thank you… Damian.” I start to close the door but pause, meeting his eyes. “For everything.”
“You’re welcome. When you’re done with your shower, if you want to come downstairs, I’ll be in the kitchen making breakfast,” he says, scratching the back of his neck.
I bite my lip, unsure what to say.
“Or I can bring it up to you,” he adds softly.
I lower my head, unsure how to respond to such kindness. I can’t even remember the last time someone took care of me—or even cared. He’s being so gentle, and I don’t know if it’s out of pity. God, I hope not.
I blink back the tears threatening to fall and lift my head. Damian helped me; the least I can do is be polite, show my gratitude. If it weren’t for him, who knows where I would’ve spent the night.
“I… I’ll come downstairs.”
“I’ll be waiting. No rush,” he says with a smile before I close the door.
For a while, I pace the room, lost in thought about what I’m going to do now. I have no home, I don’t know if I still have a job, and I don’t have a backup plan if I don’t. Exhausted from thinking about things that only hurt me, I finally decide to shower before Damian starts waiting too long.
...
After my shower, I feel a little better. I stare at my reflection in the mirror—my eyes swollen and red, every ounce of pain written on my face. I look around for a toothbrush and find a new one still in its wrapper. I brush my teeth, trying to prepare myself mentally to put on Damian’s clothes and go downstairs for breakfast—probably with him and Liam.
Do his other brothers live here too? His parents? I push the thoughts aside, or I’ll never have the courage to leave this room.
I unlock the bathroom door, determined to get dressed and go down. But as soon as I step out, I freeze.
Noah is lying on the bed wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. My eyes widen. What the hell is he doing here? Why is he half-naked in this room? I try to move, to run back into the bathroom, but my feet won’t obey me. I can’t even breathe.
“What—what—” I stammer, realizing I’m incapable of forming a full sentence.
Noah gets up from the bed and turns his back to me—thank God. I’m not sure I’d still be standing if he kept looking at me the way he was.
“Good morning. I don’t know if you remember me—I’m Noah, the guy from the elevator.”
Of course I remember him. How could I not?
“Sorry for barging in. I thought one of my brothers was in here.” He glances over his shoulder. “Good thing it wasn’t—I prefer this view over seeing them naked.”
My face flames hotter.
“I… I’m not… naked,” I manage, gripping the towel tighter around my body.
“Yeah, princess, I’m a lucky guy, but not that lucky.”
His shameless tone makes me laugh despite myself, though I quickly pull it back.
“Sorry again. I’ll get out of your way now.”
He leaves the room without waiting for an answer. I stand staring at the closed door for what must be four minutes, unsure if I should still go downstairs.
After dressing and thinking about a million things, I finally decide to go. I can’t be rude to Damian—not after everything. Even though the shame still burns inside me, he helped me when I had no one else. The least I can do is thank him properly.
I make my way down the stairs, unsure where to go. The house is huge. I hear voices in the distance—Damian and Liam—and follow the sound, gathering courage with every step. The voices grow louder; they’re arguing about something—something about Chicago and one of their brothers coming back earlier than planned.
“Fuck Ethan, you said you’d stay! What are we supposed to do now?” Damian sounds furious.
“Calm down, Damian,” Liam replies, his voice stern. “He said he left someone competent in charge. No fighting.”
I take a step back, ready to retreat to the room and let them sort it out alone—but before I can, Noah’s voice stops me in my tracks.
“Scarlett, come on, sit down and eat.”
I think about turning around and running to the nearest hiding place.
“Scarlett?” Damian’s figure appears before me. He studies my face for a few seconds, saying nothing about my state. “Come.”
I take a deep breath, and we walk together into the kitchen.
Noah is at the stove, holding a frying pan, wearing an apron that says Hot Chef. Liam sits across the island, sipping from a mug. He gives me a small nod, and I return it.
My eyes wander across the kitchen—and land on another man staring at me, wide-eyed. A rush of dizziness hits me as memories crash over me—memories of this same man and me fucking in a nightclub bathroom.
“Shit, it can’t be!”
That’s the last thing I hear before everything goes black.