Chapter 349: The Price of Dating Rich: Can’t Even Go To A Damn Store

I just blinked at the screen.

Ever had that feeling when all you’ve ever wanted in that moment was to fade away from existence?

Yep, I did have it. Right then and there.

Then I read it again, almost hoping that the words might miraculously become less absurd with a second glance.

They didn’t.

The article had several photographs, including one of Damien holding the door for me and another taken through the window while we were sitting across from each other.

The writer had somehow managed to twist a perfectly normal dinner into a series of questions about my identity, Damien’s sexuality, Damien’s intentions, and whether our relationship was some clandestine business arrangement.

I glanced down at my outfit in the picture, then back at Damien sitting next to me in reality.

"Well," I said, trying to sound light-hearted, "This is definitely not terrifying at all."

Damien’s gaze shifted from the screen to my face. "What is it, Sunshine?"

I handed over my phone without replying.

The moment Damien laid eyes on the photos, his expression didn’t change, but irritation simmered beneath the surface of his calm demeanor.

The images were clearer than the earlier ones, and the article had already circulated across various entertainment and business platforms just hours after publication.

Whoever had taken the shots had managed to capture my face from different angles, meaning this was no longer just speculation about a blurry figure beside a wealthy executive.

He scanned the headline, flipped through the photos, and returned the phone to back to me.

"It’s okay, Oliver. I’ll take care of it."

Mu smile was still intact, but it seemed like Damien could tell the difference between my usual teasing and the kind of humor I used when something was bothering me.

"How comforting. I assume your executive powers include teaching the internet some manners?"

"Not quite."

"Shame. It could really use some oversight."

Damien wrapped an arm around my waist, drawing me closer as he reflected on how swiftly the situation had shifted. He had known that the photos would eventually emerge, but he had expected to have more time to prepare for it, especially after his security team had attempted to limit the spread of the earlier images.

He seemed annoyed that those precautions had failed, and even more so that I had been forced to find out how far the media scrutiny had gone through a headline that interpreted their private dinner as an international mystery.

Still, he refused to allow his annoyance to control his response.

"The photos were always going to attract attention eventually," he explained, maintaining an even tone. "People are naturally curious about my personal life, and the media loves to spin anything they don’t understand into a story. That doesn’t mean you have to address their questions."

I studied him for a moment.

"And what if they start asking questions at my university?"

"Then your university can direct them to my office. You don’t owe anyone an explanation about your private life."

That was the right response, and Damien could probably see I appreciated it, but the tightness in his shoulders didn’t ease.

Damien brushed his thumb over my waist, wishing he could offer reassurance that the attention would not escalate to being intrusive. He had the resources to challenge publications, bolster security, and make it considerably harder for anyone to approach me without permission, but he couldn’t guarantee that the world would stop looking at the man he loved.

He could only ensure that I wouldn’t have to face it alone.

"I should’ve warned you that this could happen," Damien admitted.

I glanced down at the phone in my hands before setting it aside.

"Sure, but I also knew who you were when I decided to come back with you." I attempted a smile, but it remained uncertain around the edges. "I just didn’t expect our first official appearance to turn into people debating whether I’m your secret boyfriend or just an unusually attractive business consultant. It was kind of inevitable..."

Damien couldn’t help but smile. "Unusually attractive?"

"I believe in being fair to all parties involved."

He kissed my forehead, then moved to my cheek, finally lingering at the corner of my mouth long enough to feel me relax against him as we returned to watching the movie.

I really tried not to dwell on the photographs once we went to bed, which was tough since the internet had apparently decided my face was open for discussion and that everyone deserved a chance to scrutinize it.

Since birth, I had lived a relatively low-key life, where the most exciting thing people knew about me was that I taught psychology, was usually in huge denial about my own feelings even when I knew the truth deep down and sometimes argued with friends and lover (which is Damien by the way) over trivial stuff.

Suddenly, strangers were speculating about my relationship with Damien, my background, and whether I had some hidden connection to his company.

It was bizarre to know that people were discussing me without having a clue who I really was.

I didn’t have a clue what they thought I was like, whether they imagined me as some ambitious social climber or a hapless romantic who’d accidentally wandered into the wrong restaurant.

Not to mention...his parents would find out about us being together pretty soon, if they haven’t already.

And I finally started to understand why Damien had always been so careful about the parts of his life he allowed the public to see.

The next morning, a discreet driver was waiting downstairs when I mentioned I wanted to stop by a bookstore before heading home.

I stared at the car.

Then I stared at the driver, who greeted me politely and opened the door.

When I asked Damien about it, he was fastening his cuff links in front of the bedroom mirror.

"It’s just a precaution," he explained. "I had Nsomi set it up."

"A precaution against what? Bookstores?"

He glanced at me through the mirror, clearly trying to suppress a smile.

"Against anyone deciding they want to approach you because they recognize you from the photos."

I mulled that over for a moment and then sighed.

"Fantastic. I’ve finally hit celebrity status, and I haven’t even written a book yet."

Damien crossed the room and kissed my forehead, his hand brushing briefly against my cheek.

"You don’t need to change your routine. Just let the driver know where you’re headed, and if anything feels off, call me."

I nodded, understanding why he was doing this, even if the idea of needing security just to buy a book felt absurd enough for a bad comedy.

Damn...rich people really have it difficult.

I was almost sorry I spent years of my life detesting and being mean to their arrogant, ignorant asses.

They couldn’t even take a trip to a store on their own!

He left for the office soon after, and I moved through my morning, but I noticed little shifts throughout the day.

Naomi called to confirm my schedule, the driver checked in before picking me up, and when I returned to the penthouse, I found Damien had quietly arranged for extra security around the building.

He hadn’t made a big deal about it or treated me like I couldn’t take care of myself.

He’d just started putting things in place, one careful decision at a time, the way he always did when he believed something significant was at stake.

That evening, I lay beside him in the dark, listening to the gentle rhythm of his breathing as the city lights filtered through the curtains.

Damien was asleep, one arm wrapped around my waist, seemingly unfazed by the fact that our lives had become so much more complicated in less than twenty-four hours.

I envied him a bit.

I knew he wasn’t truly unaffected, because I had seen the tension in his eyes.

But he had spent years learning how to bear his worries without letting them spill into every room he entered.

Meanwhile, I was lying awake, wondering if someone would recognize me the next time I went out for coffee.

It wasn’t catastrophic, and I knew that. Nobody had threatened me, nothing terrible had occurred, and the photographs were just the first sign that the privacy we had built together might be more delicate than I’d thought.

Still, I reached for Damien’s hand beneath the blanket, holding it gently, letting the warmth of his fingers reassure me that whatever awaited us beyond the penthouse doors, we were still here, together, in the life we’d both worked so hard to reclaim.

The world was beginning to take notice, and I realized that keeping our relationship secure might take more than just drawing the curtains.