Chapter 34
Damien Prescott strolled into the elegant Trivedian restaurant at the Whitmore Grand Hotel with his date for the evening, Arabella Fontaine.
The moment their dishes arrived, Arabella immediately pulled out her phone to snap pictures of the artfully plated cuisine.
Watching her childish behavior, Damien felt irritation prickle at his nerves. “What’s with the photoshoot? Never seen gourmet food before?”
Arabella pouted but reluctantly tucked her phone away, picking up her fork in sullen silence.
As they neared the end of their meal, the restaurant manager approached with a practiced smile. “Mr. Prescott, I hope everything was to your satisfaction this evening?”
“Not bad. The lamb was particularly tender—I enjoyed it.” Despite his questionable personal life, Damien had been raised in high society, and his manners were impeccable.
Arabella scoffed, clattering her utensils down. “Are you joking? That meat was like chewing rubber. Absolutely dreadful.”
Damien’s expression darkened instantly, his gaze turning icy.
The manager bowed deeply. “We sincerely appreciate your feedback and will strive to improve. Our deepest apologies!”
“Don’t mind her,” Damien drawled, lips curling in mockery. “She forgot her dentures today. She’d call a marshmallow tough.”
Arabella stiffened, humiliation burning her cheeks. She didn’t dare retort.
Damien pulled a thick stack of crisp bills from his pocket—an old-fashioned habit in this digital age—and slid them toward the manager. “A tip. And I’d like to ask about someone.” He rested his chin on his palm, eyes gleaming with interest. “Is there an employee here named Evelyn?”
The manager hesitated. “Mr. Prescott, at Whitmore Grand, we adhere to a strict no-tipping policy. And I’m afraid there’s no one by that name on staff.”
“Impossible.” Damien’s patience thinned. “I saw her unloading supplies at the service entrance earlier. Check again.”
The manager shook his head. “With all due respect, sir, I’ve worked here for fifteen years. I know every employee personally. The woman you’re describing doesn’t work here.”
With that, he excused himself.
Just as Damien’s frustration mounted, a graceful figure stepped into the restaurant.
Evelyn Sinclair walked in alone, her poise effortless. The moment she spotted Damien, surprise flickered across her face, but she quickly schooled her expression.
Sebastian Blackwood had ignored her throughout their three-year marriage, never introducing her to his circle. Yet she knew Damien Prescott was his closest friend—an odd pairing, given their contrasting personalities.
Thankfully, no staff members were nearby to accidentally blow her cover.
Damien’s eyes locked onto her, widening slightly.
Arabella noticed his rapt attention and bristled. The way he looked at this woman—soft, intrigued—sent jealousy clawing up her throat.
Evelyn ordered a coffee and settled at a table, scrolling through her phone.
“Well, what a coincidence,” Damien purred, arching a brow. “Here for dinner?”
He knew she worked here, of course. The question was meant to spare her dignity—but Evelyn surprised him by answering bluntly.
“Actually, I’m on shift.” No pretense. No shame.
His interest deepened.
“Tsk. Sebastian doesn’t know how to appreciate a woman like you,” Damien mused, stroking his chin. “Instead of letting you work, he should’ve kept you pampered at home like a treasure.”
Evelyn’s laugh was sharp. “Kept me? I spent three years hidden away like a dirty secret. I’ve had enough of that life, Mr. Prescott.”
Her smile held a dangerous edge that unsettled him.
“After leaving Sebastian, I swore I’d stand on my own—no matter how hard it gets. I refuse to be that powerless wife again. Nathan Whitmore gave me this opportunity, and I won’t waste it. He respects my choices, so don’t insult him.”
Damien faltered, his smirk turning sheepish.
“Your date is waiting,” Evelyn added coolly, nodding toward Arabella. “It’s rude to keep her.”
“Date?” Damien scoffed. “We’re just having dinner. If that counts, then—”
His words cut off as Evelyn’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, then stood abruptly. “Excuse me.”
Damien watched her stride away, intrigued. Arabella’s jealous glare went unnoticed.
Something about Evelyn Sinclair had just gotten far more interesting.
