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The Lover Beneath Me(4)

By:Evangelene



Me:Where r u?

I texted.

Darren:Late obviously. I’ll be there soon.

“Addie?”

“Son of a bitch,” I swore under my breath. Darren should have felt my mental punch.

“What in the hell are you doing here?” I asked, knowing full well what Darren had done. The ass played me.

“Darren told me you needed someone with a business. Why didn’t you asked me? Why did you ask Darren?” he bit out angrily.

“I see the old Daimon is alive and well,” I noted sarcastically.

“You’re my wife and I should be the one able to help you,” he snapped.

“I had my reasons,” I retorted bitterly.

“Which were?” he said furiously.

“Just forget it,” I snapped and walked off, leaving Daimon behind. He ran up to me and matched my pace.

“By the way, you look very nice tonight.” He smiled, looking down at me. “I like the pencil skirt, blouse combo. Very naughty schoolgirl look.” He grinned, taking my hand into his.

“Daimon,” I hissed, trying to take back my hand.

“I’m your husband. Let’s just play nice for this evening. Please.” He held on tighter. If only he knew what his simple touch did to me.

“Addie!” cried out my professor of business management. He was a funny guy, classic university prof, with his tweed jacket and suede elbows. The man played the part and I think he liked it.

“Hello, Professor Harrison.” I smiled.

“And who do we have here?”

“I’m Daimon Evans, Addie’s husband,” Daimon said firmly as he reached out his hand to shake his.

“Evans of the investment group and Evans Tower in Lower Manhattan?” my professor asked warily.

“Yes.” Daimon switched to business mode. I let out a sigh knowing Daimon would steal the show, exactly what I didn’t want to happen.

“Lydia!” my professor cried out. “Come here!”



It’s fair to say the rest of the evening was all about Daimon and questions about how to run an investment group. Professors and students alike lined up to speak to him and have him answer their questions or even run ideas by him. Some students did remark about why I would need to work or that it must be just a hobby for me. All of them made sure to remind me I was married to him. Couldn’t even tell you how many, “Oh, my God, you’re married to Daimon Evans?” I had directed at me.

I left after growing tired of watching him in a deep conversion with a few of my classmates. The moment I hit the threshold of the door, I heard them all laughing, probably at some stupid joke he said.

“Addie, where are you going?”

“Oh, hi Mike.” I nodded. “I'm kind of tired. So I'm going home,” I noted. Mike was one of the youngest professors we had. He was good looking, smart and easy to talk to.

“I hear Daimon Evans is here from the investment group,” he noted, looking past me.

“Yeah, he’s right over there.” I pointed to the giant circle of people who had surrounded him.

“What? You’re not interested in seeing him?”

“Not really.” I shrugged.

“Why? It’s an amazing opportunity to rub shoulders with one of New York’s great business men,” he remarked.

“Maybe, but I'm still a bit tired so I'm going to head out,” I muttered.

“How about we go out for some coffee.” He smiled. “These wine and cheese parties can sometime suck,” he joked.

“Yeah, Addie, how about we all go out for coffee?” Daimon said bitterly from behind me. Mike looked at us both, darting his eyes. “I’m Daimon, Addie’s husband.” His tone was grave.

“Oh,” Mike said nervously. “Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, likewise,” Daimon responded, not meaning it. “Since my wife is tired, I’m going to take her home.” He took my hand, intertwining our fingers and pulled me from my spot.

“Daimon,” I hissed as he marched us out of the building and to his car.

“So is that why you’re refusing to see me? You want to go out with him?” he roared.

“Don’t be stupid,” I cried out. “I'm here to get an education, you asshole! And I would have had a great time had not the great Daimon Evans of the Investment Group Evans showed up,” I shouted.

“What?”

“You heard me. The reason why I didn’t ask you was because they would do exactly what they did just now. It became a night about you and not about rubbing elbows with other business people and learning. It became about making contacts with the great Mr. Evans. Great! Just great! Now, I won’t ever be taken seriously,” I said exasperated, flailing my hands up in the air.

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