Chapter 8 - The Date Damon Blackwell Could Not ControlDamon owned three restaurants in Manhattan.
He chose none of them.
Kate noticed.
Their first date took place in a small Italian restaurant in Brooklyn with twenty tables, mismatched candles and a handwritten menu.
She arrived five minutes early.
Damon was already there.
Of course.
He stood when she approached.
Black suit.
No tie.
No bodyguards visible.
Kate narrowed her eyes.
“Where are they?”
“Who?”
“Security.”
“Outside.”
“How many?”
“Two.”
“Damon.”
“One car.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“Four.”
She sighed.
“This is your version of normal?”
“Yes.”
“That’s tragic.”
“I’m aware.”
He pulled out her chair.
Kate sat.
For the first twenty minutes, Damon looked more uncomfortable than he had while facing Senator Caldwell.
Kate found it fascinating.
“You’ve never done this.”
“What?”
“Gone on a normal date.”
“I’ve been to dinner with women.”
“That is not what I asked.”
He considered.
“No.”
“Never?”
“Not like this.”
“What were the others like?”
“Arranged.”
“By whom?”
“Families. Business partners. Social circles.”
Kate smiled.
“Did your grandmother send dossiers?”
“Once.”
She laughed.
“You’re joking.”
“I wish.”
Dinner arrived.
Homemade pasta.
Bread.
A ridiculous amount of parmesan.
Damon relaxed slowly.
Kate told him about being thirteen and accidentally setting a microwave on fire.
He told her Matteo once crashed a boat into a yacht belonging to a Russian oligarch.
“Accidentally?”
“Matteo claims so.”
“And you believe him?”
“No.”
Kate laughed so hard she almost spilled wine.
Then Damon’s phone vibrated.
He ignored it.
Again.
Ignored.
Third time.
Kate looked at him.
“You can answer.”
“No.”
“It might be important.”
“It usually is.”
“Then answer.”
“This is our date.”
Her heart softened.
“Damon.”
“Yes?”
“Answer the phone.”
He did.
His expression changed within seconds.
“When?”
Pause.
“Is anyone hurt?”
Kate went cold.
Damon listened.
“Lock the estate. I’m coming.”
He hung up.
“What happened?”
“A vehicle entered through the west service gate.”
“How?”
“False credentials.”
Kate’s stomach tightened.
“Who?”
“We don’t know.”
He was already standing.
The date ended immediately.
Kate did not complain.
They drove back with security.
The estate gates were surrounded by Blackwell vehicles.
Damon entered first.
Kate followed despite his objections.
Inside the west corridor, Matteo stood beside a detained man.
Kate recognized him from television.
Senator Caldwell’s chief of staff.
Robert Gaines.
His coat was wet.
His face pale.
He held no weapon.
Only an envelope.
“I asked to speak privately,” Gaines said.
Damon stared.
“You breached my gate.”
“Your people wouldn’t let me schedule a meeting.”
“Reasonably.”
Gaines looked at Kate.
“I need to speak to both of you.”
Damon’s body shifted subtly between them.
Kate noticed.
“So speak.”
Gaines swallowed.
“Arthur Caldwell knows the federal inquiry will reach him.”
Damon said nothing.
“He’s preparing evidence.”
“Against me?”
“Against everyone.”
Gaines looked at Kate again.
“Including his son.”
Kate stared.
“Why?”
“To save himself.”
Of course.
Gaines handed the envelope to Matteo.
Inside were copies of financial records.
Payments.
Judges.
Police officers.
Private investigators.
More disturbing were payments labeled simply CONSULTING.
Several names Kate recognized from the foundation reports.
“Why bring this?” Damon asked.
“Because I worked for Caldwell eighteen years.”
Gaines looked older suddenly.
“And I watched him turn a spoiled child into a monster because consequences were inconvenient.”
“Your conscience is eighteen years late.”
“Yes.”
The honesty stopped Damon.
Gaines continued.
“Caldwell has a private archive. Everything he uses to control people.”
“Where?”
“Country house in Connecticut. Hidden room beneath the wine cellar.”
Damon’s eyes narrowed.
“You expect me to believe he keeps criminal evidence in his house?”
“He doesn’t trust digital systems.”
Matteo looked at the papers.
“These copies came from where?”
“His office.”
“Why now?”
Gaines looked toward Kate.
“Because I watched the press conference.”
Kate froze.
“My daughter works as a legislative assistant.”
His voice broke slightly.
“And I realized if someone did to her what Preston did to those women, I would burn the city down.”
Damon’s expression changed.
Gaines laughed bitterly.
“It took imagining my own child.”
He looked at Kate.
“I’m sorry.”
Kate did not forgive him.
Not then.
Maybe never.
But she nodded.
“What is Caldwell planning?”
“Tomorrow night he moves the archive.”
Damon looked at Matteo.
Matteo was already making calls.
Kate understood immediately.
“You’re going there.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Damon turned.
“No?”
“You cannot break into a senator’s house.”
“Correct.”
She waited.
“We won’t.”
“What does that mean?”
“We contact federal investigators.”
Matteo looked disappointed.
Damon noticed.
“We are not stealing evidence during an active federal inquiry.”
Matteo sighed.
“Responsibility has ruined you.”
Kate smiled.
Gaines provided an affidavit before midnight.
Federal agents obtained warrants.
At 4:12 the following afternoon, investigators entered Caldwell’s Connecticut property.
The hidden archive existed.
Inside were twenty-three years of records.
Bribes.
Blackmail.
Private surveillance.
Payoffs.
And one folder containing photographs of women Preston and his friends had targeted.
Kate’s photograph was inside.
She learned this two days later.
Damon refused to show it to her.
She did not argue.
Some things did not need to be seen twice.
The senator resigned twelve days later.
He claimed health reasons.
No one believed him.
Preston was indicted on multiple charges unrelated to Kate before additional allegations were added.
The fifteen men scattered into separate legal battles.
Some cooperated.
Some denied everything.
Some families abandoned them publicly.
Nothing happened as quickly as movies promised.
Justice moved slowly.
Messily.
But it moved.
Kate’s first date with Damon technically lasted forty-seven minutes.
He asked for another one.
She said yes.
The second took place at a diner.
No suits.
Damon wore a dark sweater.
Kate stared at him for ten seconds.
“What?”
“You own sweaters.”
“Yes.”
“I assumed you were born in a tuxedo.”
He looked at her over coffee.
“I’m reconsidering the date.”
She smiled.
On the third date, he kissed her.
Almost.
They stood outside her apartment beneath a flickering streetlight.
Kate’s heart beat so loudly she was certain he heard it.
Damon touched her cheek.
Slowly.
Giving her time.
She leaned toward him.
His phone rang.
Matteo.
Damon closed his eyes.
Kate burst out laughing.
“Answer it.”
“I’m firing him.”
“You can’t fire Matteo.”
“I can.”
“You won’t.”
“No.”
The phone continued.
Damon answered.
“What?”
Kate could hear Matteo’s voice faintly.
“Your grandmother wants to know if you kissed her.”
Damon hung up.
Kate doubled over laughing.
“I hate my family.”
“You love your grandmother.”
“Unfortunately.”
He looked at her.
The laughter faded.
His hand returned to her cheek.
“Where were we?”
Kate whispered, “I think you were about to intimidate me.”
“I’m trying very hard not to.”
“I know.”
This time there was no interruption.
He kissed her gently.
No demand.
No rush.
Nothing like the dangerous man newspapers described.
Kate’s fingers curled into the front of his sweater.
When they separated, Damon rested his forehead against hers.
“Are you okay?”
Kate smiled.
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
He kissed her again.
Across the street, a security guard looked very carefully in the opposite direction.
Kate laughed against Damon’s mouth.
“What?”
May you like
“Nothing.”
For the first time in years, nothing felt exactly right.
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