Chapter 48: Damien Lockwood: 1, My Dignity: 0
•⋅⊰∙∘☾✶☽∘∙⊱⋅•✾•⋅⊰∙∘☾✶☽∘∙⊱⋅•
Not looking at me like he actually cared about the answer. I stabbed another potato with unnecessary force.
Quickly, I shoved another bite in my mouth to avoid dealing with that emotional stuff, focusing instead on the perfect sear of the steak and how the sauce coated each slice."You don’t have to return the tip," Damien said eventually, his voice low as he speared a piece of steak.
I sighed dramatically. "We’re still talking about this?"
"You’re still mad about it."
"Because it’s weird."
"It’s not."
"It absolutely is," I argued. "Who tips a hundred dollars for coffee? Next, you’ll be handing out hundred-dollar bills like party favors at a gala."
"You needed it more than I did," he said simply, keeping his gaze steady on mine.
That made me pause slowly, I looked up.
Damien was studying me now, his expression serious but calm.
"I’m not trying to buy anything from you," he said quietly. "I noticed you work too hard, and I guess... I wanted to help you out. That’s all."
Something tight twisted in my chest. My defenses went straight up.
"I don’t need your pity."
His brows furrowed slightly. "That’s not what this is."
"You don’t even know me."
"I know you don’t sleep much," he continued, keeping his tone gentle but firm. "I know you work almost every day, and you come home wiped out pretending everything’s fine. It’s hard not to notice, and I can’t help but wonder...why you work so hard."
My throat suddenly felt tight.This was a dangerous topic. Very dangerous topic, even Joey and Maya knew not to venture this far.
And there’s no way I would bare my heart out and explain about my dad’s situation to him. I shoved another bite in my mouth before muttering, "Mind your business, Lockwood."
Damien was quiet for a long moment, fork halting mid-air. After a few seconds, thankfully, he dropped the subject but the weight of his attention lingered like an unspoken promise.
Still, the tension hung there between us, quieter now but somehow heavier. Because now I knew Damien noticed things.
Too many things snd worse...I noticed him too.
I noticed how his dark hair fell into his eyes when he looked down at his plate, catching the light just right. How his lips pressed together slightly when he was weighing his words, deep in thought.
How his huge hands looked unfairly attractive doing something as mundane as holding a fork, veins subtly standing out against his skin.
This was genuinely becoming a health concern. Halfway through dinner, I realized I’d cleared my plate completely, not a crumb left behind.
Embarrassing. Damien noticed too, glancing over with a raised brow.
"Do you want seconds?"
I shot him an annoyed glare. "Don’t make this weird."
A tiny smile flickered back on his face.
God.
Why was that becoming my favorite thing? I clearly need therapy, Maya was always right. Ugh!
Or maybe holy water.
"That was really good," I admitted grudgingly. "I didn’t know nepo babies could cook. I thought you all just ordered in from Michelin-star places, thanks for the meal."
Damien looked genuinely surprised for a second before a faint smile returned, setting down his utensils neatly.
"Oh," he said smoothly, "so you can say thank you now."
I pointed a warning finger at him. "Don’t push it. This changes nothing, I still don’t like you."
His eyes sparkled with amusement.
The bastard looked way too gorgeous when he was enjoying himself, the soft light highlighting his jawline and the subtle crinkles at the corners of his eyes. I jumped up quickly before my mind could go down a dangerous track.
"I’ll do the dishes," I muttered, reaching for the plates.
"You don’t have to. You’ve had a long day."
"I know," I replied. "I want to. It’s only fair after that meal."
Damien moved to the sink before I could grab the plates, his presence filling the space comfortably.
"You should rest. You look exhausted."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "You don’t get to tell me what to do."
His mouth twitched. "Noted."
"I’ll do what I want."
"You’re quite fierce for someone who stands on his tippy toes to reach the cupboards," he teased lightly, turning on the faucet.
I gasped....h...how dare he?! The audacity the comment on our height difference! "I fucking hate you!"
"No, you don’t." He said it so casually that my brain stalled for a moment, leaving me speechless. Before I could recover, Damien had already started rinsing the dishes under warm water, the suds swirling gently.
Annoying, so annoying. I grabbed a towel and moved beside him, committed to helping.The sink felt ridiculously small all of a sudden. Or maybe Damien was just way too big.
Probably both. Standing this close to him was ruining my health.
I could smell his clean, expensive cologne blending with the warmth of soap and food, distractingly masculine. Every time our shoulders brushed while maneuvering around each other in the cramped kitchen, it felt way more noticeable than it should’ve...sending electric sensations racing across my skin.
Especially after tonight.
This was bad.
Very, very bad.
"You’re thinking too loudly again," Damien murmured softly next to me, his voice low enough to make my pulse race.
I flinched and almost dropped a plate, scrambling to catch it. "Be quiet."
"You make faces," he said, glancing at me knowingly. "Your eyebrows get all dramatic when you’re overthinking."
I glared at him. "Mind your business."
"That’s hard when you’re this close to me," he replied, the weight of his words hanging in the air. My heartbeat immediately betrayed me.
Traitor.
Absolute traitor.
I reached for a glass just as Damien did.
Our fingers brushed together for the second time that day and both of us froze instantly. The contact lasted just a second, maybe less.
But heat shot up my arm so fast it was embarrassing, lingering like a brand. Damien’s gaze flicked to mine, steady and unreadable.
And suddenly, the kitchen felt too warm. I pulled my hand back like it had burned me.
"O–okay," I blurted. "I’m...uh... gonna go take a shower."
Smooth, very smooth.
Damien blinked slowly, and I could swear there was amusement in his eyes again, along with something deeper I didn’t dare to analyze.
"Alright," he said simply, turning back to the dishes as if nothing had happened.
I backed away from the sink as if he might attack me with intimacy.
What on earth was wrong with me?
Seriously?!
A hand touch shouldn’t feel world-changing.
I practically fled to my room before my brain could embarrass me further. And as I shut the door behind me, my heart racing against my ribs, only one thought kept circling in my head.
I came here to argue with him about money. Instead, I ended up eating his food, standing too close to him, and now I was even more confused than before.
This was getting dangerous.
•
•
•
𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯’𝔰 𝔯𝔞𝔪𝔟𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰
that awkward moment when I realized...that all my male leads are good at cooking 🤔huh...
anyways 😊 how do you guys feel about this book so far?