Damaged Read online

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  Damaged

  Copyright © 2014 by Nina D’Angelo

  Cover Design by Allie Brennan

  Edited by Jennifer Roberts Hall

  Proofed by Lauren McKellar

  Formatted by JT Formatting

  First published, February 2014

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  Quotations may be used for the purpose of book reviews; and marketing if permission is granted by the author prior to use.

  Please respect the hard work of this author. If you have obtained a copy of this book without purchasing it, or it was not purchased for your use only then please delete the file and purchase a copy legally. This novel is your enjoyment only and may not be resold or given to other persons. If you would like to share Damaged with others then please purchase additional copies for each individual.

  Damaged is a book of fiction. The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  WARNING: Contains sexual references, and strong profanity.

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Other Titles by Nina D’Angelo

  Damaged is dedicated to every girl who has been in love with that boy and lost him.

  And, it’s dedicated to that boy, who saw the damaged girl for exactly who she was and loved her anyway.

  DOMINIC DELANEY WIPED down the bar counter, looking around Outlaws with a mixture of satisfaction and pride. He’d worked hard to make his bar one of Hollywood’s hottest drinking spots since he bought it six years ago. When he first purchased the property, it was nothing but a shadow of what it was now. It had been rundown, and business was almost non-existent. He’d built the bar up from nothing, and he’d done it without the backing or support of his family.

  When he’d made the decision to walk away from his high-powered job as a marketing executive and move from San Antonio to LA, his parents had called him crazy. They’d told him he was throwing his life away.

  Sweeping his gaze around the crowded bar, a smile slid across his face. After working his ass off for the past six years, he no longer had anything to prove to his family, – or himself.

  Turning his head, his breath caught in his throat as a familiar woman walked into the bar. Grinning, he glanced up at the clock. She was right on time. For the past month, she’d come into Outlaws every night, always at midnight. She was a creature of habit.

  He watched her glide across the room as if she owned the bar, then sit down at a table in the darkest corner. Without asking for it, she drew the attention of every red-blooded male in the room — as she did every night. And every night he watched as, one by one, they approached her and she shot down their advances.

  He liked watching her. She intrigued him. She always ordered the same drink—Johnny Walker Blue neat; an expensive drink that she never drank. Instead, she placed it to one side where it remained for the rest of the night.

  She never spoke to anyone, except to place her drink order. Sitting in a corner booth of the bar, she was always alone, wrapped up in her own thoughts. Sometimes she brought a laptop with her, and other times she carried files she immersed herself in until closing time. Then there were the nights she sat watching people, her expression tormented. Those were the nights he was really drawn to her. More than once, he found himself wondering how someone so beautiful could be so alone.

  With delicate features, soft pink lips that begged to be tasted and a body ripe for loving, she was the epitome of a man’s wildest fantasy. She actually seemed oblivious to her own beauty and the effect she had on men.

  Dominic had dated a lot of beautiful women. LA was filled with them, but she was different. As much as he was physically attracted to her, that wasn’t what captivated him. It was her eyes. They held him prisoner. She hid her emotions carefully, her face a perfect mask of control, but she couldn’t hide the fury or the pain behind those amber eyes; eyes he knew he could easily lose himself in.

  With her fiery red hair and delicate pale features, she looked vulnerable. Dominic instinctively knew it was a facade. He knew she’d take on the world and kick it in the ass if she had to.

  Grabbing a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue and a tumbler glass, he poured it neat, just the way she liked it. Walking out from behind the bar, he nodded to Jax—his head bartender—and walked towards her, his heart racing. He figured two things could happen tonight. He could offer her a drink, and she could toss it in his face, or she could accept it, and he could get to know her.

  Dominic didn’t ask himself why he was approaching her. He just knew he had to. It was crazy to think a woman could affect him the way she did, but wanted talk to her. If he didn’t, he’d regret it.

  STEPHANIE CAROVELLA SLID into her usual booth in the corner of Outlaws, her eyes scanning the bar. A ghost of a smile played on her lips when she recognized the regular patrons who came here each night, but then her eyes lingered on the man behind the bar, and her smile fell away. He was watching her, just as he’d watched her every night since she’d started coming here. It unnerved her, almost as much as the fact that she liked to watch him back.

  It was a game of cat and mouse they silently played together. They’d both dart glances at one another when the other wasn’t looking, then finally share a mutual look of understanding. He never approached her, and she never approached him, regardless of how much she wanted to.

  She knew his name. She’d heard his customers call him Dominic, and she’d taken the time to find out his last name. Every night, she watched him joke and laugh with patrons, putting them completely at ease with his accentuated drawl, and every night she told herself she didn’t want to know more about him. She didn’t want to know how her name would sound on his lips, or the color of his eyes, and she sure as hell didn’t want to know if he were single.

  Hell, she thought with disgust, she wasn’t even single. She had a boyfriend, one who would move heaven and earth for her if she asked him to. Ben Reynolds was everything she needed in her life. Dominic Delaney was not.

  He was dangerous. She didn’t even know him, and he already had a hold on her. It terrified her, straight to the core. He had the ability to break through the barriers she’d aligned around herself and the power to shake her foundations without even realizing it—w
ithout their even meeting. Since the first night she’d walked into Outlaws, Dominic had looked too closely at her. He saw everything she didn’t want anyone to see. He saw her.

  She kept telling herself she came back here every night to escape from her nightmares, but she was kidding herself. She came back to see him.

  Watching him reach for the bottle of Johnny Walker Blue on the top shelf, a sigh of appreciation fell from her lips when his shirt rode up to reveal a patch of tanned skin. It didn’t help one damn bit that he was gorgeous. With hair as dark as night, green eyes that saw her too clearly and a lean, hard body, Dominic oozed a sex appeal that evoked sultry nights, passionate kisses and her falling head over heels in love with him. All of which she was never going to let happen.

  Falling in love with Dominic would be dangerous for them both. The danger for her would be that it would leave her vulnerable and exposed. It would be something he could use against her. And the danger for Dominic came from the fact that he’d discover who she really was.

  Dropping her gaze to her hands, she told herself she should stay away. She needed to stop coming here. She needed to stop playing this silent game with him. Ben wouldn’t like it, and sooner or later, one of them would approach the other. She didn’t need that complication.

  Anxiously, she rubbed the scar on the inside of her left palm with her thumb, feeling the ragged edges. The doctors had told her the scar would heal, and with time, disappear. She smiled cynically. The scars inside were a whole different story.

  She swallowed down the bile rising within her throat, battling the anguish flooding through her whenever she thought of Katrina Andrews. It should have been her. She should have died, not beautiful, innocent Kat. She lived with this knowledge every day.

  Raising her head when a glass appeared in front of her, she flicked her gaze to it before Dominic slid into the chair opposite her.

  “I didn’t order a drink.”

  “No, but you were going to,” he drawled, smirking at her. “I just saved you the effort.” When she didn’t reply, he held out his hand. “I’m Dominic.”

  “Stephanie,” she said quietly, slipping her hand into his and gripping it.

  Dominic lifted her wrist to his mouth, flipping it over and grazing his lips against it. He froze when she flinched and tried to remove her hand from his. Dropping his eyes to her palm, he studied the inflamed scar.

  She flushed, withdrawing her hand from his and dropping it to her lap. “Thank you for the drink,” she murmured politely. Nodding her head towards the bar, she added, “You better get back to work. I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble with your boss.”

  Dominic grinned at her blatant dismissal. He should get up and walk away. He didn’t need any complications in his life; complications he knew the woman in front of him would bring. She was trouble with a capital T. He could see it in her eyes.

  Yet he remained where he was. He stayed in his chair because he saw something else; an attraction flaring within her amber gaze before she quickly concealed it. Leaning back in his seat, he crossed his arms and teased, “Trying to get rid of me already?”

  She shrugged, sliding her fingers around the rim of the tumbler he’d placed on the table. “If you lose your job, it’s your funeral. If you want to stay, stay. I don’t care.”

  “Liar,” he said, resting his elbows on the table. “You want me to stay. You’re just too damn scared to admit it.”

  Stephanie rolled her eyes, a smile creeping onto her lips. She should tell him to get lost. God knows he wasn’t the first guy in this bar to approach her since she’d started coming here.

  Studying the man in front of her, she took in the chiseled square jaw and high cheekbones. Green eyes she now knew were the color of emeralds, accentuated by long eyelashes, met her own.

  “Has anyone told you that you’re an arrogant son of a bitch?” she asked, grinning at him.

  He grinned back. “I may have heard it once or twice before.” He waved his hand and indicated to the files in front of her. “So tell me, Stephanie Carovella, what brings you to my humble abode every night?”

  “Oh, it’s your humble abode, is it?” she teased, and he nodded. The teasing glint in her eyes disappeared, and she asked warily, “How did you know my last name?”

  “You’re not the only one who can ask around,” he teased back, quirking his lips in amusement. “Nice attempt to avoid the topic, Carovella, but it won’t cut it. So answer the damn question.”

  Shrugging, she dropped her gaze from his to the files on the table. “I like it here.” Taking a deep breath, she shyly confessed, “Besides, I live in a cramped apartment with three other girls, and I like space.”

  “At midnight?” he asked, arching his eyebrow. “Your poor boyfriend must hate not having you keep him warm at night.”

  Stephanie shrugged again, a smile playing on her lips. “What makes you think I have a boyfriend?”

  Laughing softly, Dominic drawled, “Darlin’, have you looked in the mirror? You’re gorgeous. There’s no way in hell you don’t have a boyfriend. Try again.”

  Blushing, she ducked her head. Regaining her composure, she lifted her head again to look at him. “I have . . . someone. Does your girlfriend object to you hitting on every girl who comes into your bar?”

  “What makes you think I have a girlfriend?”

  “Darlin’, have you looked in the mirror?” she mimicked.

  He burst into laughter, and she joined him. Leaning back against the plush red velvet sofa, she was surprised by how safe Dominic made her feel. Usually she was on guard with men, distrustful of their motives and intentions, but this man was different.

  Their laughter died as they studied each other. “So your boyfriend doesn’t care you’re here in a bar, alone? It doesn’t bother him knowing every guy in this room wants to take you home?”

  “Every guy in the room?” she asked, arching her eyebrow.

  ‘Every guy, including me,” he confirmed, seeing her surprise before she carefully hid it. “What? You expected me to deny it?”

  “Other guys would,” she said, dropping her eyes to the glass in front of her. She could feel her heart galloping at his confession. Six months ago, she wouldn’t have thought twice about it. She would have said, ‘to hell with Ben,’ taken up the offer in Dominic’s eyes and slept with him. She would have scratched the itch she’d felt every time she saw him, and then walked away without thinking twice.

  But she was different now. Katrina’s death had reminded her of everything she had to lose. Her death had reminded her that she could never escape her past, and she couldn’t take chances. Dominic Delaney was a risk she couldn’t take. She wouldn’t take.

  Dominic fell silent, watching the walls automatically go up at his confession. She was shutting down on him. He could see it in her eyes, her expression, and the rigid way she held herself. She might be attracted to him, but he already knew she didn’t plan on acting on it.

  “I’m not other guys,” he drawled, placing his palms on the table. “I’m not afraid to admit I find you attractive. I won’t lie to you. I want to take you home and make love to you. I want to hear you gasp my name as I make you come.”

  “Look, thanks for the drink, but if you think it’s going to get you laid, then you’re delusional. I have a boyfriend. If I wanted sex, I’d give him a call. All I want is to be left alone,” Stephanie said cuttingly.

  Dominic studied her, seeing the anger blazing in her eyes; he also saw disappointment and resignation. It rankled at him. He’d pushed her too hard, he realized. He watched her pick up the files, shoving them back into her bag, then stand up and pull her purse out of her handbag. She dropped a hundred dollar bill on the table. “That should cover the drink.”

  “Stephanie, wait,” Dominic said softly, reaching out to grab her wrist. She avoided his touch, spinning around to look at him with contempt in her expression.

  “I’d say it was a pleasure, Dominic, but we’d both know it was a lie. Nex
t time you want to get laid, give your girlfriend a call, instead of pretending you give a damn about me other than getting into my pants,” she spat.

  “I wasn’t . . .”

  He was stunned by her vehemence. What the hell just happened? He’d meant to compliment her, but instead he’d insulted her. One minute it had been harmless flirting, and then it had been something more. He hadn’t read the signals wrong; he’d seen the interest in her eyes. She wanted him. She’d enjoyed the flirting and the banter.

  He watched her stride out of the bar, her heels clipping angrily against the wooden floorboards, and grimaced when she yanked the door open and slammed out. Dropping his gaze to the drink on the table, he cursed softly as he picked it up and downed it in three gulps. He slammed the glass back down on the table, his eyes falling on the money she’d left. He shook his head. He didn’t need another crazy woman in his life. He already had Sandra. He dismissed his off-and-on again girlfriend without another thought, his mind remaining on the fiery redhead who had just left the bar.

  Stephanie Carovella had quite a reputation. When he’d asked about her, he’d been warned she was a wild child who lived on the edge. She was reckless and headstrong, and did what the hell she wanted when she wanted. She wasn’t nicknamed Hurricane Stephanie for the sake of it. Dominic knew he was better off without her, yet he’d seen something in her eyes shyly not just raw anguish, but a maturity that belied her years. She’d been forced to grow up quickly, and he wanted to know why.

  Cursing softly, he grabbed the money she’d left on the table and stood up. Why the hell did he care, about not seeing her again? Why did he want to chase after her and apologize? Especially when they’d just met? He didn’t understand it.

  “She’s going to be the death of me, I know it,” he growled, shoving her money into his jeans front pocket and striding out of the bar.

  Women were crazy, he decided, and she was the craziest of them all. A smile slid across his face. He was even crazier for chasing her.

  STEPHANIE WALKED OUT of Outlaws, cursing softly. When Dominic had confessed he wanted to make love to her, she’d been able to envision it in her mind. She collapsed back against the front wall of the bar and closed her eyes, her breath hitching in her throat. Sliding her hands up and around to the back of her neck, she gently massaged her tense muscles. She could picture him in her head. She could picture them; him poised above her, his emerald eyes glittering with passion as he moved within her. Unaware of what she was doing, Stephanie moved her hands from her nape, sliding them down the contours of her body. Lightly skimming her fingertips over her breasts, she continued to slide her hands down to rest on her hips.