Chapter 35
A mischievous grin played on Damien Prescott’s lips as he leaned in slightly. “Dinner tonight. I’ll pick you up. Name your craving—I’ll reserve the best table in town.”
Evelyn Sinclair arched a brow, irritation lacing her tone. “I have a boyfriend, Mr. Prescott.”
Damien chuckled, unfazed. “Sweetheart, I couldn’t care less about your ex-husband, let alone some boyfriend.”
When it came to women, Damien had never been one for boundaries. If he wanted something, morality was merely a suggestion.
“If you’re worried about prying eyes,” he continued smoothly, “my private villa is secluded. The chef there holds three Michelin stars. Just say the word, and I’ll have everything prepared.”
Evelyn’s fingers tapped impatiently against the table. Where the hell is my coffee?
She was tempted to throw it in his face just to wipe that smug look off.
Just then, Damien’s phone buzzed—Sebastian Blackwood’s name flashing on the screen.
“Excuse me,” he murmured, stepping away with a wink.
Unbelievable. Evelyn seethed internally. I never asked for this attention.
The waiter finally arrived with her coffee, but before she could take a sip, Arabella Fontaine stormed over.
Arabella hadn’t caught their earlier exchange, but she knew one thing—Evelyn was the employee Damien had been eyeing.
Some lowly worker thinking she can compete with me? Arabella’s nails dug into her palms. She needs to learn her place.
“Listen here,” Arabella hissed, venom dripping from every word. “Stay away from Mr. Prescott if you value your job.”
Evelyn wrinkled her nose. The cloying perfume clinging to Arabella was nauseating. How does Damien even stand being near her?
“And what if I don’t?” Evelyn replied coolly, not even bothering to look up.
“I’ll file a complaint so damning, you’ll never work in this city again!”
“A complaint?” Evelyn finally met her gaze, amusement glinting in her eyes. “Because you’re jealous he spoke to me? Even Mr. Whitmore would think you’ve lost your mind.”
“You—!” Arabella’s face twisted in fury.
In a flash of rage, she lunged for Evelyn’s coffee—only to shriek as Evelyn snatched it first and flung the scalding liquid straight into her face.
Arabella’s meticulously applied makeup melted, her designer dress ruined. She trembled, lips quivering as tears threatened to spill.
Evelyn calmly dabbed a napkin against a stray drop on her hand. “If one of us is leaving humiliated today,” she said sweetly, “it certainly won’t be me.”
Meanwhile, Damien paced near the windows, phone pressed to his ear.
“Mrs. Blackwood’s birthday is in two days,” Sebastian’s voice cut through. “I need help picking a gift. Meet me tonight.”
Damien sighed. “Cassandra adores you. You could hand her weeds, and she’d frame them. Just pick something.”
“No. Tonight.”
“I’ve got plans.”
“Cancel them.”
Damien rolled his eyes. “I already invited someone. Standing her up isn’t exactly gentlemanly.”
He hesitated. Despite his reputation, he wasn’t the type to betray a friend.
Clearing his throat, he added bluntly, “Fine. The woman I’m meeting? It’s your ex-wife.”
Silence.
“Sebastian?” Damien checked his screen to ensure the call hadn’t dropped.
The line remained eerily quiet.
