Complete Me (The Stark Trilogy)

chocolate, suddenly wary. “Why?”
    “No reason.” She holds up a hand as if warding off my nonexistent protest. “Really. I was just wondering what was going on with the whole stalker thing. Not that I don’t totally love it here,” she adds quickly. “But, hey, I like being around my stuff.”
    “I get that,” I say. “But I don’t think Damien’s security folks or the police have learned anything new.”
    “Must be driving Damien nuts.”
    “It is,” I say. “That and trying to find Sofia.”
    “Who?”
    I realize that I haven’t told Jamie about Sofia, so I give her the abridged version, mentioning only that she’s a friend of Damien’s from his tennis days, that she’s a little fucked-up, and that she’s missing. Probably doing the roadie thing with some band, but until that’s confirmed, Damien’s worried.
    “And you’re not jealous?” Jamie says.
    I raise my brows. “Are you saying I should be?”
    “Ex-girlfriend, and now he’s obsessed with finding her again? Shit, I’d be pulling my hair out.”
    “Thanks,” I say dryly. “I appreciate the mental health pep talk.”
    “Yeah, well, as we’ve established several times over, I’m not anywhere near as together as you.”
    “I think you have me confused with someone who doesn’t cut,” I say.
    The look she gives me is as serious as I’ve ever seen on Jamie. “I think you have you confused with someone who does.”
    I stay still for a moment, not answering, but looking at myself through Jamie’s eyes. Have I really gotten my shit together? Maybe not entirely, but I’ve been doing pretty damn well. And I owe all that to Damien.
    I think about the times when I’ve started to slide—the times when Damien has caught me—and I wish that Jamie could find someone, too. Someone who gets her and doesn’t put up with her shit. Someone who’s not just looking for a fuck buddy or a one-night stand.
    Someone who’ll love her.
    “What?” she says, peering at me through narrowed eyes. I just shake my head.
    She reaches out for the candy bar, and breaks off two squares. Then she uses the squares to sandwich a marshmallow. She doesn’t bother to melt it over the fire; she just bites in, her eyes closed in what looks like near-orgasmic joy. “Damn, but I do love chocolate.”
    I stand up. “I’m going to bed before I eat any more of that. Do you want me to wake you in the morning? I’m getting up early to go to the office.” Those words are at least as delicious as the chocolate. I have an office. My very own office. Seriously, how cool is that?
    “I’ll disown you if you wake me up,” she says. “Now go.”She waves her hand regally. “If I can’t have sex, I’m going to at least finish off the last of this chocolate.”
    I’m asleep by the time Damien comes to bed, and he’s gone again when I wake up. I have a vague memory of being wrapped in his warmth at one point during the night, but for the most part, I’m feeling bereft. At least until I find the note in the bathroom promising me something delicious that night—and maybe even dinner, too.
    Cooper has magically appeared at the Malibu house, and I can only assume that one of Damien’s elves drove him there while Damien and I were at the hospital with Jamie. However it arrived, I’m grateful, and I slide happily behind the wheel and head out for the long trek to Sherman Oaks. I’m starving, and my usual traveler’s mug of coffee isn’t cutting it this morning. Damien once introduced me to the world’s best croissants from a local Malibu bakery, and since I can arrive at my own office at whatever the hell time I want to, I decide to make a detour.
    The Upper Crust actually has a drive-through, but I decide to park and go inside. I think I want a plain croissant, but I’m more than willing to be tempted by something truly decadent like
pain au chocolat
or a sticky, gooey cinnamon roll that is positively dripping with icing. As it turns out, it’s the apple fritter that seduces me, and as I pay for it and an extra large latte, the little bell on the door jingles and Lisa walks in.
    I lift my hand to wave, then immediately drop it. She’s hand in hand with a man I know—Preston Rhodes. The head of acquisitions at Stark Applied Technology.
    For a second, I think this must be one of those Big, Amusing Coincidences. But then I see Preston’s smile of recognition—and Lisa’s grimace.
    Well, fuck
.
    “Damien,” I say, my temper rising as each piece