Chapter 345: Dinner for Two and a Lifetime of Annoying Each Other

Damien looked at me with exaggerated patience. "Why?"

"Because this is an office, not a fancy hotel suite."

"We could always talk about relocating."

I smacked his shoulder, and he chuckled, catching my hand to kiss my knuckles before finally letting me stand up.

"You’re fucking crazy," I said, straightening my sweater.

I glared at him as he adjusted his shirt, looking annoyingly handsome and way too proud, then he reached for his jacket.

"What are you up to now?" I asked.

"Taking you out."

I blinked. "Out where?"

"On a date."

"We live together now, Damien. We eat together every day."

"That doesn’t mean I can’t take you somewhere nice." His expression softened, and I realized he genuinely meant it rather than just trying to distract me again.

"Give me the rest of the afternoon," he said. "We’ll have a nice dinner tonight, just the two of us."

I tried to look suspicious, but the excitement bubbling inside me made it hard to pull off. "Define nice."

"A restaurant."

"Very informative."

The warmth in his voice made me smile, and before I could respond, he pressed the intercom button on his desk. "Naomi, clear my schedule for the rest of the afternoon."

There was a brief pause. "All of it, sir?"

"Yep."

"Is there an emergency?"

Damien glanced at me, his tone serious. "Yes. My boyfriend has arrived, and I’ve decided the company can manage without me for a few hours."

I buried my face in my hands as Naomi politely confirmed she’d reschedule his meetings.

"Your whole executive team is going to know about me," I muttered.

"Eventually, yes."

I lowered my hands to find him already reaching for mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles as if he intended to keep those thoughts from becoming too scary.

"Tonight is just for us," he promised.

And because I could never resist a handsome man who thought to order extra food, I nodded.

The restaurant Damien chose was on the upper floor of a quiet building overlooking the river, featuring warm lighting, huge windows, and tables spaced far enough apart to give everyone some privacy.

There were no crowds or flashing cameras, just a discreet host who greeted Damien by name and led us into a private dining room where the city lights shimmered over the dark water below.

It was beautiful without being overwhelming, though the menu definitely threatened to undo all the comfort I’d built up.

I stared at the wine list and then slowly turned it toward Damien.

"Why does this bottle cost more than the first car I ever rode in?"

He laughed, and I felt oddly proud of myself for making him chuckle in a restaurant where everyone else acted like laughter was reserved for special occasions.

When the waiter arrived, Damien ordered a bottle he knew I’d enjoy, patiently listened while I decided on dinner and questioned whether the first course was food or art.

I reached for his hand under the table. He laced our fingers together, his palm warm against mine, while the other hand rested lightly on my thigh as we chatted.

For once, the conversation didn’t revolve around his company, his parents, or the endless responsibilities that seemed to follow him everywhere.

We discussed my work at St. Jude, plans for the next semester, and my dad’s new routine as he had just settled in at Damien private island. Damien listened intently, asked questions, and remembered details most people would forget before the conversation ended.

It reminded me that beneath that intimidating CEO and the polished public persona was the same guy who once argued with me in a university classroom simply for the fun of it.

Only now, I didn’t have to wonder if he’d still be around when we finished talking.

At one point, I caught him watching me instead of the view.

"What?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing."

His thumb began moving slowly over my thigh under the table, and his expression softened in a way that made my teasing smile falter.

"I’m just very happy you’re here," he said.

The simplicity of the words caught me off guard, tightening my chest. I thought about all the dinners I’d had, worrying about bills, convincing myself that wanting something beautiful was a luxury I shouldn’t have, and how strange it felt to be across from someone who simply wanted to give me a nice evening because he loved me.

"Me too," I finally admitted. "I’m enjoying this. Being with you without all the drama or the need to fight."

"We don’t always have to fight."

I raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You and I? Bold claim there."

His laughter filled the small dining room, and I found myself smiling so much that my cheeks started to hurt.

When dessert arrived, a chocolate creation that resembled a small monument, I immediately decided the restaurant had finally produced something worthy of its prices.

Damien watched me take the first bite. "Good?"

I nodded, wiping my lips. "It’s actually really great."

I offered him a bite, and he leaned forward to taste it, keeping his gaze locked on mine.

The look he gave me afterward felt way too intimate for someone who had just sampled a mouthful of dessert. It reminded me of our earlier encounter in his office.

My throat went dry as my cheeks warmed up again, I suddenly felt really thirsty for some reason. I cleared my throat.

"Behave," I warned him.

I laughed as he leaned across the table to kiss me, keeping it brief enough that I couldn’t accuse him of ruining the ambiance.

When we finally left, the night air was cool, and Damien kept his hand at my back as we made our way through the lobby to our waiting car. I slid into the back seat beside him, snuggling against his shoulder as the driver pulled away from the curb.

"So," I said, glancing up at him, "how would you rate your first official date with me?"

"Very successful."

He pulled me closer and kissed my forehead. "You turned an ordinary day into something memorable for me."

My teasing smile softened before I could help it. "That’s disgustingly romantic."

His quiet laughter vibrated through me as I nestled closer against him, watching the city slide by outside the windows.

I had come to the office with a mission to ensure Damien ate lunch, and somehow I had wrapped up with an afternoon of kisses and a date that reminded me how wonderful it felt to be cared for without having to earn it.

Of course, knowing Damien, the evening probably wasn’t over yet.

His arm tightened around my waist, and when I turned my head to look at him, I found him watching me with that familiar, charmingly dangerous smile.

"Whatever you’re thinking," I warned, "the answer is no, my ass still hurts from last night."

"You don’t know what I’m thinking."

"I know your face."

"Then maybe you should kiss me before making any more accusations."

I rolled my eyes, leaned in, and kissed him anyway, because it seemed I had a knack for rewarding bad behavior when the culprit was this handsome.

Judging by the satisfied grin on Damien’s lips, he had no intention of changing.