A Daddy for Damian by Joe Satoria

22. KRISTOPHER

A knock came at my hotel door.

I was expecting anyone.

But there he stood.

Damian in a checked blue and black shirt. A look of innocence across his face. Almost like he was asking for my forgiveness for coming to my room after I’d told him not to.

“I told you not to come here,” I let out softly, rolling up the papers in my hand.

“I know, I know, but—” he paused, stepping inside. “Can I come in?”

“Better than you standing out there.”

I was in one of the suites. It was basically just liked a serviced studio apartment. And I always chose here over staying with my parents since that would’ve been the making over a toxic bomb ready to explode.

Damian sat on the edge of the hotel bed, taking the bed over the sofa. He looked to the window, and then back to me. His hands resting on his lap. I caught his smell as he walked past me, it was cologne Marsha had given him. I’d missed it over the last couple of days we didn’t see each other.

“Make it quick,” I said, placing the papers on the desk. “The last thing I need is anyone to see you her.”

“I’m your assistant.” He raised his voice, oddly coarse. “Why can’t I be here?”

I turned away from him, pulling away my jacket. “Because my family know I fuck everything up, and sometimes—”

“You don’t.” His soft voice by my ear. His hand on my shoulder.

I sucked in, holding back. “Sometimes, I want to leave them and never look back.”

Damian’s grasp ate into me, wrapping both arms around my waist and hugging me from behind. “Why can’t you?”

He was right. I could leave them all behind. My perfect brothers who could do no wrong. I was the deviant. I was the one who left them because I didn’t feel supported. I was the one who decided to leave because I wanted to pursue both a business and a relationship.

“I have twenty minutes,” I said, turning to him. I tipped his chin up to face me. “Take your shirt off.”

He kissed me and then pulled back. “I—I need to talk to you.”

It sounded serious. “Ok.”

“You said I can quit at any time, right?” The words left his mouth, and for a moment, I thought I was having trouble hearing him. I didn’t expect him to bring it up so soon.

“Yeah.”

He took a deep gasp. He was panicked. His fingers clinging to the ends of his shirt. He didn’t look like he wanted to say any of this. “I need to go back and finish my A-levels,” he said. “I like you, but—I feel everything about this is temporary, and I don’t want it to be.”

“So, you quit?” I asked, looking him over. The last thing I expected was that to happen today, even if I was going to suggest it was either keeping things between us or a job. I smiled, slightly, my lips curving at my cheeks.

“Are you happy about that?” he asked, his forehead knotting. “Because I only just decided. I don’t want it to be something you—”

“No, no.” I let out a sigh. “I’m relieved.”

That didn’t sound any better coming from me than I did coming from my brain.

“Uh—”

“I do the same thing,” I told him. I sat on the edge of the bed, patting the seat beside me. “I employ someone I find attractive, and then we sleep together.” This was what he knew already. “Then we break up, he quits, and I’m left doing the same thing again.”

He took a seat beside me, pushing his hand into mine. “Well, I still want to see you.”

I had too much going on today, the last thing I needed was this to happen. It was a happy distraction, and something I had thought about bringing up earlier, but something about it didn’t feel right earlier. Like trying to tear a plaster from an open wound, I knew giving it air to breathe would be good, but I also knew it would hurt.

“I still want to see you,” I said.

“So, we can date?”

I nodded, pulling him into a hug at my side. “I guess we can.”

“And what about those suits?”

“Keep them,” I said. “I—I—” feeling myself in the state of admittance. “I like to get guys who don’t usually wear suits, it always makes them feel so important when they’re in them.”

Damian nodded, his hair brushing beneath my chin. “I spoke to Theo, well, he basically couldn’t shut his mouth.”

I giggled at the comment. That sounded like him. “Oh god. What did he say?”

“You don’t like your family,” he continued, “and you don’t let people in.”

“Did he also tell you I’m emotionally unavailable?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I’ve never really dated someone, so I don’t even know what that means,” he admitted. “But I know that since you do this thing where people come and go, I realised I should just quit now. I really should finish my A-level courses, and then I can go to university.”

“Yes, yes,” I said. “Absolutely do that. Education is important. What do you want to do?”

He smiled, it felt like a sneaky secret smile. “Dinosaurs.”

“Like an archaeologist? Or one of those—” I snapped my fingers searching for the word. “Palaeontologists?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I want to do that.”

I kissed his forehead. “And I still want to date you, even if you’re not my assistant. It’ll probably be better that way.”

“I can still help you—but—I don’t even know if I’m a good assistant.”

He didn’t have much competition; all my previous assistants had no experience either. “You’re my favourite, so far,” I told him. “And it’s only been a week.”

His eyed opened wider. “Wow. A week.”

I nodded. “I’m glad we had this talk,” I said. “The last thing I wanted was to ruin your trip. Although, I have to see my parents in—” I glanced at my watch. “Soon.”

“I can come with you.”

“No, no.” That was one thing I couldn’t have him do yet. “Maybe if we date for a couple months, then sure.”

He nodded, kissing me again. “So, does this mean I can spend the night in here with you?” His eyes were already scouring the room. I imagined it was much nicer than the room I’d booked him and his friend in.

“You and your friend should go out and party,” I said.

Damian hummed, rolling his eyes. “I think him and Theo might end up doing something.”

“Ok, maybe tonight.”

He ran his hands up the bed, leaning back. “I brought one of my teddies too. And—” He pulled his t-shirt up, plucking at the waistband of his underwear. “Look what I’m wearing.”

I pulled the rest of his t-shirt up to reveal his stomach. “And they’re all mine,” I said. I pressed my mouth to his stomach and blew a raspberry. “Right,” I said, pulling away. “You should go enjoy yourself. I need to prepare for three hours of hell.”

It was bound to be a long dinner; it usually always was. I tried not to eat, only drink water beforehand. If I was busy eating, I couldn’t be found making back-handed comments to everything they had to say.

My parents lived in Charlottenburg, one of the wealthiest neighbourhoods in Berlin. They had a number of properties, and I never lived with them long enough to know where they were until I asked for the address. Most of the time they’d have penthouse apartments with terrace floors, but they also had houses in the country too.

Looking at the building in my approach, I was almost late, but I didn’t want to sweat. The last thing I needed was for any of the to see me sweating. I wore a nice black shirt with a red tie, and a matching black dinner jacket. It was a similar concept each time, it felt like I was in mourning since I didn’t really belong here.

In Germany, on time was late, and early was on time.

My mother stood at the door, waiting my arrival. Her bouffant of blond hair, a string of pearls around her neck. This is how she always dressed, like she was trying to be one of the Kennedy’s from America. She always looks well put together with a sharp smile and her favourite red lipstick. She was the one who’d first convinced me to get Botox in my forehead. Her words, cutting like a hot knife. Prevention is better than cure.

My father, on the other hand, had the wrinkles on his face. He wouldn’t let anyone touch him with a needle.

The table was set, and both my brothers, Jonas and Elias were seated waiting. I was the youngest of the three. Jonas was married with a wife; Elias was probably engaged or one of his girlfriends was pregnant.

“Nice of you to make it,” my father said.

Outside, in the world, I was a big fish eating up smaller fish. But in this small tank, I was the small little beta fish waiting to be swallowed whole by whatever it was my father had to say to me.

At the head of the table, I shook his hand. “I’m here now,” I said.

“I was just telling dad about an acquisition I made,” Elias said, “five-hundred million. I don’t even know what to do with a production company.” He scoffed, shrugging.

And the pissing contest had begun. Everything I’d prepared for. And yet, as I looked around, I felt like I’d forgot every single accomplishment I’d made over the last month. It was small compared to them.

“And how’s business?” my father asked as I tucked myself in at the table.

“Good.”

“Good.” He slammed a closed fist on the table. “Good is not a measure of success. Turnover. Revenue. Percentages!” He stressed the words.

I really couldn’t deal with any of this, but I had a stern face, thanks to the Botox. I could weather this meal again, like I had time and time before.