Chapter 39 *
Damon’s POV
I was sitting at my desk going through financial reports when Arthur burst into my study.
He didn't knock. Arthur always knocked.
I looked up immediately. His face was pale. His eyes were worried.
"Sir, I think you need to come with me right now."
My stomach dropped. "What happened? Is Scarlett okay?"
"She's fine. I mean, she's not hurt. But she's in the garden and I think you should see this yourself."
I was already standing. Already moving toward the door.
Arthur was walking fast. I followed him through the hallway. Down the stairs. Out the back entrance toward the gardens.
"What is she doing?" I asked.
"I don't want to say, sir. You'll understand when you see it."
That made it worse. My mind was racing through possibilities.
What the hell is she doing in the garden at almost midnight?
We reached the pathway that led to the gazebo. I could see the security lights in the distance. Dim. Barely illuminating anything.
Then I smelled it.
Alcohol. Strong and sharp. Cutting through the night air.
My stomach turned to ice.
No. She wouldn't.
I walked faster. Almost running now.
The gazebo came into view. The benches. The lattice work. The climbing roses.
And Scarlett.
She was sitting on one of the stone benches. Slouched against the back. Her legs stretched out in front of her.
The ground around her was covered in empty bottles. Yogurt bottles. At least a dozen of them scattered everywhere.
But that wasn't what made my blood run cold.
There were beer cans. Four or five of them. Empty. Lying on the ground next to the yogurt bottles.
The smell of alcohol was overwhelming.
My vision went red. Pure rage flooded through my entire body.
She's drinking. She's pregnant and she's drinking.
"Scarlett."
My voice came out like ice. Cold and deadly.
She looked up at me. Her eyes were half-closed. She blinked slowly. Like she was having trouble focusing.
"Oh. Hi Damon."
Her voice was lazy. Relaxed. Like she didn't have a care in the world.
I walked closer. My hands were shaking. I was so angry I could barely speak.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
She tilted her head. Looked at me like she didn't understand the question.
"Drinking stuff."
She raised a beer can to her lips. Took a long drink. Right in front of me.
Then she smiled. Actually smiled. Like this was all perfectly normal.
My hands clenched into fists. I could feel my pulse pounding in my temples.
"Scarlett. You are way out of line right now."
I was shaking. My whole body was shaking with anger.
"Do you have any idea what alcohol does to a fetus? Do you have any common sense at all?"
She blinked at me. Her expression didn't change.
I stepped closer. Loomed over her. Let her see exactly how furious I was.
"Starting tomorrow, I'm hiring two full-time nurses to watch you. You're not leaving this house. You're not going to work. You're not doing anything without supervision."
Her eyes widened. Finally. Some reaction.
"What? You can't do that."
"I can and I will. You've proven you can't be trusted to take care of yourself. So I'll do it for you."
"Damon, wait. I didn't—"
"I don't want to hear it."
I pointed at all the beer cans on the ground.
"The evidence is right there. You were drinking. Don't even try to deny it."
"I'm not denying it. I mean, yes I was drinking but—"
"But nothing. There is no but. You're pregnant. You don't drink. End of discussion."
She stood up suddenly. Her face was bright red. She looked panicked.
"I didn't drink beer! I drank yogurt!"
I stared at her. "What?"
"I drank yogurt. Not beer."
She grabbed one of the beer cans from the ground. Shoved it in my face.
"Smell it. Go ahead. Smell it."
I took the can from her hand. Brought it close to my nose.
The smell hit me immediately. Sweet. Creamy. Unmistakably yogurt.
There was a faint trace of beer underneath. Old beer. Stale. But the yogurt smell was much stronger.
I looked at the can. Then at Scarlett. Then at all the empty yogurt bottles on the ground.
"You put yogurt in beer cans?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Her face got even redder. She looked down at the ground.
"I just wanted to."
I looked at her. Really looked at her.
She was embarrassed. Ashamed even. But not guilty.
Because she hadn't actually done anything wrong.
I'd just accused my pregnant wife of drinking alcohol when she'd been drinking yogurt.
Fuck.
The anger drained away. Replaced by confusion. And exhaustion.
"Scarlett. Why would you drink yogurt out of beer cans?"
"I already told you. I wanted to."
"That's not an answer."
She didn't respond. Just stood there looking miserable.
I glanced down at all the empty bottles and cans again. Counted them in my head.
Twelve yogurt bottles. Five beer cans that she'd apparently emptied and refilled with more yogurt.
Seventeen containers of yogurt. In one night.
The anger came back. Different this time. Not rage. More like frustration.
Even if it's just yogurt, this isn't normal behavior. Something's wrong.
"You drank seventeen yogurts?"
"I don't know. I didn't count."
"Your stomach is going to hate you tomorrow."
She shrugged. Didn't seem to care.
I studied her face. Her red eyes. Her slumped shoulders. The way she was avoiding my gaze.
This isn't about yogurt. She's using it to cope with something.
If I don't deal with this now, next time it might actually be alcohol. Or something worse.
"Scarlett."
My voice came out cold. Firm.
She looked up at me. Wary now.
"Let me make something very clear. You are my wife."
I took a step closer. Made sure she was looking at me.
"If something's wrong, you come to me. You don't hide out here drinking things out of beer cans. Do you understand?"
"I wasn't hiding."
"Then what were you doing?"
"Just drinking yogurt."
"Scarlett."
"What?"
"Stop playing games with me."
She bit her lip. Looked away again.
I could see her shutting down. Pulling back into herself.
Damn it. She's not going to talk.
I sighed. Pinched the bridge of my nose.
"Fine. You have two choices. Either you tell me what's going on right now, or I send people to investigate."
Her head snapped up. "Investigate what?"
"Whatever happened to make you drink seventeen yogurts in the middle of the night."
"Nothing happened."
"I don't believe you."
We stared at each other. The tension was thick enough to cut.
Finally she looked away. Her shoulders dropped.
"Fine."
She sat back down on the bench. Hugged her knees to her chest. Made herself as small as possible.
I waited. Gave her time to find the words.
The silence stretched out. Long and uncomfortable. Only the sound of wind rustling through the trees.
When she finally spoke, her voice was so quiet I almost didn't hear it.
"Last night at Zelda's party, I publicly cut ties with the Romano family."
She kept her head down. Wouldn't look at me.
"From now on, I'm alone."
She paused. Took a shaky breath.