Chapter 122 *
Scarlett's POV
Uncle.
Oh shit.
Dominic.
My brain kicked into overdrive. I'd done my research on the Wolfe family structure. Read every file I could get my hands on.
Dominic wasn't just Damon's uncle. He was the guy Santino had originally chosen as heir. Not just CEO of Wolfe Global—that was just the legitimate business front—but actual control of the entire empire.
The underground networks. The five family negotiations. The East Coast smuggling operations. All of it.
Then Damon came back from overseas a year ago. Probably from Europe. From the money laundering networks or the weapons deals or whatever the hell he'd been running out there.
And he'd taken it all.
Not just the CEO title. The real power.
Dominic got demoted. Hard. From underboss to some regional manager handling Brooklyn docks. Lost his seat at the family council. Lost his voting rights.
And according to the files, he'd hired professional killers to deal with Damon. Multiple times.
That's why we were hiding the marriage. That's why nobody could know.
Because if Dominic found out Damon had a wife? I'd become a target. A weakness.
My stomach dropped. If he walks in here and sees me, we're both screwed.
The footsteps were getting closer.
I looked at Damon. He was already moving. His hand gestured sharply toward the side of the room. Behind the bookshelf maybe. Or the closet.
But I was holding a coffee cup. And I was wearing heels. And there was no way I could cross the room silently before that door opened.
So I did the only logical thing.
I dropped to the floor.
One second I was standing there. The next second I was on my hands and knees, crawling under Damon's massive desk.
The coffee cup came with me. I couldn't put it down. No time.
I squeezed myself into the space under the desk. Pulled my knees up to my chest. Made myself as small as possible.
I looked up.
Damon was staring down at me.
His expression was absolutely priceless. What the actual fuck? His face said it all.
I held up one finger to my lips. Shh!
Then I whispered as quietly as I could. "Dominic's not an idiot like Rocco. If he sees me, we're screwed."
Damon's face went through about five different emotions in two seconds.
Shock. Disbelief. Resignation. And something else I couldn't identify.
He leaned down slightly. His voice came out low. Strained. "You need to move."
I blinked up at him. "What? Why? This spot is perfect—"
"Scarlett." He said my name like he was in physical pain. "Just... trust me. You need to move. Now."
I looked around the cramped space. "Move where? There's nowhere else to—"
"Please." His jaw was clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping. "Just... anywhere but there."
I had no idea what he was talking about. "I'm fine right here—"
His eyes flicked down. Very deliberately. Very pointedly.
I followed his gaze.
Then I saw it.
Oh. Oh God.
The space under the desk was small. Really small. I'd wedged myself between his legs. His knees were on either side of me.
And my face was right in front of his crotch.
My face went nuclear. I could feel the heat spreading from my cheeks down my neck.
"Oh my God I wasn't— I didn't mean to—" The words tumbled out in a frantic whisper.
I tried to scramble backwards. Away from the extremely inappropriate position I'd gotten myself into.
"This isn't what it looks like!"
But the space was too small. My shoulder hit the side panel of the desk. My head cracked against the wooden underside.
THUNK.
"Ow! Fuck!" Pain exploded across my skull.
My hands flew up instinctively. The coffee cup went flying.
I watched in slow-motion horror as it tumbled through the air.
Hot coffee sprayed everywhere.
Most of it landed directly on Damon's lap.
Right there.
Right on that specific area.
The dark liquid soaked into the expensive fabric. Spread across his crotch in an extremely incriminating pattern.
No no no no no.
I stared at the wet stain. At the coffee dripping down between his legs.
Damon went completely still.
Every muscle in his body locked up. His hands gripped the armrests of his chair so hard.
I could hear him breathing. Like he was counting to ten in his head. Or maybe a hundred.
I slowly raised my eyes to look at him.
Our gazes met.
The silence was absolutely deafening.
My internal monologue was screaming.
Just kill me now. Let me die right here under this desk.
I could feel myself dying of embarrassment. Actually dying. My soul was leaving my body.
This was it. This was how I was going to be remembered.
The girl who spilled coffee on Damon Wolfe's dick.
They'd put it on my tombstone. Here lies Scarlett Romano. She died of shame after committing the most horrifying act known to mankind.
The office door SLAMMED open.
"You son of a bitch—"
Dominic stormed in like a hurricane. His voice was already raised. Already shouting before he'd even crossed the threshold.
He was so angry he didn't notice anything. Didn't notice Damon's weird rigid posture.
"What the hell gives you the right to keep Rocco locked up like some dog?" Dominic jabbed his finger in Damon's direction. "He's been stuck in that fucking safe house for two weeks!"
Damon took a very slow, very deep breath.
I watched from my position between his legs as his chest expanded. As he forced himself to lean back in his chair.
Trying to look casual. Despite the massive coffee stain on his crotch.
His voice came out cold. "Because your son has been harassing female employees. Multiple complaints. Multiple witnesses."
He paused. "He's lucky I didn't break his legs."
I was frozen solid under the desk.
My heart was pounding so hard I thought Dominic might hear it. Might look down and see me huddled there like an idiot.
I could see the coffee stain from this angle. The dark wet spot spreading across wool.
It looked absolutely terrible. Absolutely incriminating.
Oh God. I have to fix this.
The thought hit me like a train.
I couldn't just leave it there. The stain would set.
I took a deep breath. Very slowly. Very carefully. I reached out.
My hand moved toward the wet fabric.
I grabbed the edge of my sleeve. Started dabbing at the stain.
Trying to absorb the liquid. Trying to minimize the damage.
Moving like I was defusing a bomb. Like any sudden movement would alert Dominic to my presence.
My fingers brushed against Damon's thigh.
I felt him tense. Felt every muscle in his leg lock up.
But he didn't move. Didn't react. Just kept talking to Dominic like nothing was happening.
This is fine. Everything is fine. This is a totally normal situation.
I'm just hiding under my secret husband's desk, dabbing coffee off his crotch while his uncle yells at him about imprisoning his criminal son.
Completely normal. Nothing weird about this at all.
My brain was screaming.