DAMIEN: Book 2 of The De Luca Brothers Series [COMPLETED]

3:

He's here again, as if nothing happened, making out with Sapphire under the dim, rouge lighting with a burning passion that slaps me across the face. Like yesterday, I wanted to tell him, however he's conveniently finding new girls to satisfy his needs; his desires. I feel sick and I know it's not from the pregnancy.

He's with two other guys, one wide and buff whilst the other is thin with curly hair; they're obviously a couple who seem to be wrapped up in each other's worlds, but disturbed by Gufo. Trust me, they're not the only ones.

Roger nudges me and sighs, "Listen, I can't train you if you're too busy ogling the customers."

I flush red and nod, "Sorry." I mix and pour the drinks before sliding it to a particularly creepy old man who sends me a wink before enjoying the show.

"Why are you looking at the De Luca's table like that? Is it 'cause of that date Gufo did?" Asks Roger. He's a thirty year old man with brown hair, angular jawline and intense blue eyes. He has a wife and child, but developed the passion for mixology at a young age.

"Yeah," I breathe. "And something else."

He blinks, the cogs in his mind visibly turning before it clicks: "He's the dad?"

"Ding, ding, ding," I sigh. "Bingo."

"Does he know?"

I shake my head, "I only found out last night, hence why I'm behind the bar. Learning before I won't be able to spin on a pole, y'know?"

He nods, "You should go talk to him."

"Ha!" I scoff. "With Sapphire over there? No chance. It's as if he's forgotten about me and the wonderful night we shared. I swear he felt something but here he is! With my least favourite person."

Roger pauses, "How about you gain his attention?"

"'Gain his attention', he's been ignoring me. My jazz numbers won't do anything to swerve his attention. Hell, he might as well be fucking her on the settee—"

"Are you listening to yourself?" He chuckles. "You sound like my wife when she was preggers, overthinking every little thing."

I purse my lips, "Your right."

"I know."

"Radio call Ted please?"

"Will do."

I rush off, hitting the dressing room, applying make up and fluffing my hair to make me look extra sexy before rushing to Ted, "You got it?"

"Yeah, what song?"

"Number four."

His eyes widen, "You've never—"

"Trust me," my eyes flash. "It'll be worth it."

He nods unsurely before indicating for me to walk up the steps; I had slipped on a pair of booty shorts and a buttoned blouse over my red and black lingerie. Determination courses through my blood as I recall my difficult number with ease, slight anger bubbling to the surface as I think of his hands roaming her chest, his tongue tangled with hers. The curtains open and I stride out, instantly running towards the pole and dancing. I pour everything into this routine, anger, frustration, fear— who the fuck does he think he is? Fair to say I've never got so much money thrown at me before. I graciously pick them up, casting a flirtatious wink to the crowd before strutting behind the curtains once again.

I walk down the stairs as another girl rushes past me up the stage, look at Ted before collapsing at my dressing table, the tiredness washing over me like waves. I look in the mirror and grimace at the beads or sweat formed at my temples, the way my makeup seems to be messed up and how my hair is a wild mane around my shoulders. I bite my lip to stop myself from welling up and sigh deeply through my nose.

"You were good out there," he says from behind me and my eyes snap up to look at his reflection through the mirror. His V shaped body and tall nature leans against the wall of the dressing room, leisurely watching my every movements with his intense, dark green gaze. His shaggy light brown hair is perfectly messy, looking like sex as his naturally pouty lips seem swollen whilst his cheeks are flushed pink. Snapping out of my daze, I remember him with Sapphire and the warmth of his presence becomes icy cold.

"Sorry," I bite. "This isn't the brothel."

He sighs and shakes his head, "Crow—"

"Seriously, I could have sworn we had something y'know? We clicked, we had a date and we had great sex! Yet you forgot about me and now your looking for your next conquest," I seethe.

"It's... complicated."

"Life is fucking complicated, you've changed my life and now I don't know how to survive! You're so selfish, to think I actually started to like you and enjoyed our time together." A harsh laugh escapes my lips and I get up to get dressed, I can feel his eyes on me as I slip on loose jogging bottoms and a vest top, hoodie and bag. My heart beats rapidly as I brush past him.

"Wait," he calls out but I ignore him, waving at Roger on my way out. I rush out onto the street, flipping up my hood up and keeping to the wall, immersed in shadows. Only I hear footfalls behind me and the sudden gripping of my arm and I'm swivelled around, chest to chest with Gufo.

"Wait," he breathes, eyes filled with sincerity. "What did you mean by me changing your life?"

I shoot him a menacing look, "Let go of me."

"Crow, What do you mean?" He asks in desperation, his tone shifting to vulnerability.

My eyes shift over to the same two men from the club, the two of them hand in hand waiting patiently for Gufo to finish things up. "You wouldn't care," I whisper. "You'll just leave again."

He caresses my cheek but I smack his hand away. He clenches his fist midair and drops it, "I can't promise anything. Just tell me how I changed your life."

My eyes fill with tears and to my dismay, one trickled down my cheek, "You got me pregnant you bastard."

His expression changes from concern to shock in millisecond, he takes a staggering step back and looks at my stomach, expecting it to just inflate and a baby to pop out before his eyes.

A sob escapes my lips, my eyes blink with tears and I stumble backwards; he goes to reach for me but yet again, I smack his hand away. "You have nothing to say now Gufo? You had a lot to say six weeks ago to coerce me into your bed."

"C-Crow—"

"What Gufo? 'I'm sorry for getting you pregnant'? 'My deepest apologies for fucking you without a rubber as I screamed your name that one night'? Or better yet, 'I apologise for not pulling out because if felt too good'?!" I scream. "So you run off Gufo, like six weeks ago and I'll look after this baby, quit college and ruin my dream of getting my PHD. Don't worry, go back to Sapphire and fuck her for all I care— however don't throw a fit when a little girl is at your door asking for her father and saying her mom died from stress or something stupid like that!"

He tenses and runs a hand over his face, not knowing what to say, "I screwed up."

"Really Sherlock?"

"Big time, a-are you getting an abortion?" He stutters.

I blink in surprise, "Um, I don't think so. Why? Do you want me to get an abortion?"

"It's your decision," he whispers more to himself. "It's your choice."

My tears cascade down my cheeks as I nod, sniffling slightly. I readjust my bag before promptly turning on my heel and stalking down the street, towards my basement fit for one.