He Hurt Me, Now He Wants Me Back

Imogene Scott

"I think Damien knows you're back in town, but he doesn't know about Lily yet." Elinor's voice from yesterday keeps echoing in my head and I'm unable to concentrate on the artwork my assistant, Emmett Brown is showing me. "Imogene?" Emmett calls again. "Should I put this George W. Bush terrier painting at the center of the room?"

I cock my head. I sometimes wonder how Emmett knows so much about art when he only has a degree in art history-a made-up degree for rich people. "Sure. It's the centerpiece." I say and he gives me a long look before walking towards the white wall of the gallery.

Emmett is good at his job even though he just started yesterday. He's twenty five, but still, it's like God ran out of decent personality, felt bad about it, and overcompensated by giving him a gorgeous face. He's ridiculously good looking with broad shoulders and a body that puts any male model to shame.

His smugness and lack of personality is a huge turn off, but I had to hire him because his talent is so undeniable.

I sighed heavily as my eyes scans the gallery. It's alive with people moving around with purpose. The chair and tables are being arranged out front since the event will be held outside. The final touches for tonight's grand opening are still in progress too.

I'm standing in the center of it all, but my mind is elsewhere. I've spent all night thinking about what Elinor said to me about Damien. Damien knows I'm in town but he doesn't know about Lily yet. It's only a matter of time before he finally does and what happens then? My heart squeezes at the thought. He still very much hates me, what if he tries to take Lily away from me? Maybe it's not too late to give it all up and return to West Virginia? But why should I run? I've done nothing wrong, I'm not the one that put a knife to his back! That familiar feeling starts creeping up my spine again. The feeling of fear and heartbreak. I've left this all behind me. For my happiness, for Lily. I'm not going to let it back into my life. Ever. Damien is never going to find out about Lily.

The ringtone of my phone snaps me out of my daze, and I quickly reach for it. The screen flashes with Elinor's name, and I can't help but fake a smile as I answer.

"Elinor," I say, holding the phone close to my ear.Têxt belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

"Hey, Imogene. Just wanted to let you know that Lily is doing great. We're having a lot of fun," Elinor's voice is warm, reassuring, and it eases some of the tension in my body.

"Thank you, Elinor. I don't know what I'd do without you," I reply, my eyes scanning the gallery, noting how everything seems to be falling into place.

The only thing not in place, it seems, is me.

"You really should take it easy. It's your big night, after all. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, just... busy," I admit, rubbing my forehead with the back of my hand. I glance at the clock on the wall and realize I've been so caught up in the preparations that I haven't even thought about what I'm going to wear tonight. "Well, make sure you enjoy yourself. You deserve it," Elinor says before hanging up.

As the call ends, a wave of panic washes over me. I haven't even picked out a dress for tonight. I've been so engrossed in making sure everything is perfect for the gallery's opening that I've completely neglected myself. "Emmett!" I call out and he soon appears at my side.

I tell him about my dress situation but he tells me it's already been delivered an hour ago and waiting for me to try on in the showroom. I furrow my eyebrows, I'm not sure I heard right because it doesn't make any sense. I haven't ordered any dresses for tonight, not yet. Unless, Elinor ordered the dress for me? Of course, Elinor would think of that.

I immediately feel grateful to Elinor, for the fifth time today. I make my way towards the showroom, which is nestled further inside the gallery. As I enter the showroom, I spot the dress hanging on a mannequin in the corner of the room.

It's breathtaking—a floor-length gown of deep emerald green, with delicate embroidery that shimmers subtly under the light. The fabric looks rich, luxurious, and I can't help but run my fingers over it. Elinor really has eyes for the good stuff. It's exactly what I would've chosen for myself.

I quickly undress and slip into the gown, the smooth silk gliding effortlessly over my skin. It fits perfectly, hugging my curves in all the right places. The color complements my dark hair and pale complexion.

There's a knock on the door, and a

makeup artist steps in. She greets me with a smile and begins her work. When she's finished, I open my eyes and take in the final result. The dress, the makeup, everything comes together beautifully, feel like a different person, someone confident, someone ready to take on the world.

But that lingering feeling of doubt remains and I can't seem to shake it off. I take one last look at myself in the mirror, adjusting a stray hair, before stepping out of the room and back into the gallery. The space is bustling with activity now, more people have arrived, and the air is charged. The main event will be held outside, under the stars, but the inside of the gallery is already filling up with guests. This is really happening. My heart thumps in my chest with every step I take in my shiny diamond heels.

"You're an artist, and you've found a way to make a living from your art." Mrs Steele, one of my major investors, says to me halfway through the event.

We're standing outside just by the tall opening cake. The night air is cool against my skin. I've spent half the night talking to my investors and smiling so hard that I feel my mouth will rip soon.

My face turns pink as Mrs Steele continues to praise me. "That's pretty enterprising. Most people quit before they ever get a chance to fail. You're impressive."

I wave the compliment away. Slow music starts playing in the background, Mrs Steele moves away towards her husband.

I step backward and watch them dominate the dance floor. My heart aches for them, but in a good way. How they're in their late seventies and still married.

Suddenly, I feel a gentle tap on my

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shoulder. A young man is standing right in front of me with his hands stretched out. I've never met him before but he's incredibly gorgeous in a black suit and crisp white shirt. His hair is dark blonde and his fave is so carefully sculpted like God took an extra day creating him.

He's beaming with smiles too. Okay, where the hell did this god fall from? "Would you let me have this dance, Miss Scott?" he asks under his breath.

Everyone is now staring at us and don't want to let down so I agree. He leads me to the dance floor and the spotlight follows us. We dance to "Perfect" by Ed Sheeran. He tries to start a conversation but I pretend not to hear him over the music. All I grab is his name-Keith Jordan.

Suddenly, it feels like everyone's attention is drawn to someone walking in. They're all looking in the same direction. Our dance comes to a halt and I take two steps back from Keith-Charming. And then, I see him.

Damien.

He's walking towards me, commanding the attention of everyone. My heart stops, my breath catches in my throat, and for a moment, the world around me fades into the background. All I can see is him stopping in front of me.

His eyes rakes over my figure, taking in the dress. A slow smile spreads across his face, and it's the kind of smile that used to make my knees weak, that made me believe in every lie he ever told.

"I knew the dress would look good on you," he says, his voice low.

I freeze, my heart is thumping and it's only a matter of time before it jumps out of my chest. Damien bought the dress? I glance down at the gown, at the fabric that felt so perfect just moments ago, and suddenly, it feels like a trap. "How...?" I begin, my voice faltering, but he cuts me off, leaning in closer, his breath warm against my ear.

"It wasn't hard to figure out your taste. You always did have impeccable style," he murmurs, and I can hear the amusement in his voice, the way he relishes in my discomfort.

I want to say something, to tell him to leave, to demand answers, but the words stick in my throat, choking me. All I can do is stand there, frozen, as the memories come rushing back, the betrayal, the pain, the years I spent trying to rebuild myself after he tore me apart. And now, here he is, back in my life, back in my world, and all I can think is: Why now?