99 Chapter 102
Chapter 102 – Night’s Embrace, Morning’s Alarm
The soft rhythm of Damien’s breathing filled the quiet space of my living room. His chest rose and fell steadily against me, his arms still loosely encircling my shoulders. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so peaceful, so protected.
I shifted slightly, careful not to wake him, and glanced at the clock. We’d been sitting like this for nearly an hour. His driver must be wondering what was happening, but I couldn’t bring myself to disturb Damien’s rest. The usually composed, powerful CEO had completely surrendered to exhaustion, his head tilted against mine in innocent vulnerability.
“You work too hard,” I whispered, though I knew he couldn’t hear me.
In sleep, the sharp edges of his face softened. Dark lashes rested against his cheeks, his lips slightly parted. I found myself memorizing the details of his face–the faint lines at the corners of his eyes, the perfect arch of his brow, the way his hair fell across his forehead without its usual precise styling.
My phone buzzed again from my purse. Reluctantly, I began to extricate myself from Damien’s embrace. His brow furrowed slightly as I moved, but he didn’t wake. I retrieved my phone to find three missed calls from Arthur, Damien’s driver.
I answered his fourth attempt in a whisper. “Hello?”
“Ms. Ashworth, I apologize for disturbing you,” Arthur’s formal voice came through. “I wanted to check if Mr. Sterling is alright. He’s been upstairs longer than usual.”
“He’s fine,” I assured him. “He was… exhausted. He fell asleep briefly.”
There was a pause. “I see. That’s… unusual.” Arthur sounded genuinely surprised. “Should I continue waiting, or would you like me to return later?”
glanced back at Damien, still peacefully asleep on my couch. “Maybe give us another twenty minutes? I think he really needs the rest.”
“Of course, Ms. Ashworth. I’ll wait.”
After hanging up, I returned to the couch, unsure if I should wake Damien or let him
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sleep a bit longer. The decision was made for me when he stirred, his eyes blinking open slowly. For a moment, confusion clouded his features before recognition dawned.
“Hazel?” His voice was rough with sleep.
“You dozed off,” I explained gently. “Just for a little while.”
He straightened immediately, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I apologize. That was… unprofessional of me.”
“Being human isn’t unprofessional,” I countered. “You were exhausted.”
Damien checked his watch, eyes widening slightly. “It’s been over an hour. Arthur—
“I just spoke with him. He’s still waiting downstairs.”
He nodded, the composed CEO persona slipping back into place as he stood and reached for his jacket. Yet something had changed between us–a barrier broken by those quiet moments of unguarded rest.
“Thank you,” he said simply, his eyes meeting mine. “For the sandwich. And for… allowing me that moment of weakness.”
“It wasn’t weakness,” I replied. “It was trust.”
The corner of his mouth lifted in a small smile. “Perhaps it was both.”
We walked to the door together, a strange tension humming between us. At the threshold, Damien turned to face me.
“About your divorce…” he began.
I shook my
handle.”
head. “You don’t need to get involved in that mess. Julian is my problem to
“I have resources that could make the process smoother.” His tone was careful, measured. “Legal teams that could ensure he doesn’t attempt to appeal.”
“I appreciate that, but I need to handle this myself.” I met his gaze directly. “Your involvement would only make things messier. Julian would use it against me, claim I’m sleeping with you to get revenge or advantage.”
Something flickered in Damien’s eyes–frustration, perhaps, or understanding. “You’re protecting my reputation,” he observed.
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“And mine,” I added. “I want a clean break, no complications.”
He studied me for a long moment. “And after? When the divorce is truly finalized, all loose ends tied?”
My heart skipped. “After?”
“Yes, after.” His voice lowered. “Would you be willing to consider… us? Or am I misinterpreting what’s developing between us?”
The directness of his question stole my breath. Damien Sterling wasn’t a man who played games or spoke in riddles. He wanted clarity, and I owed him that much.
“You’re not misinterpreting,” I admitted softly. “But are you willing to wait? To let me finish this chapter before we start a new one?”
His expression softened, relief visible in the subtle relaxation of his shoulders. “I’ve waited longer than you know, Hazel Ashworth. A little more time is nothing.”
Before I could ask what he meant, he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. The simple gesture felt more intimate than any passionate embrace could
have.
“Goodnight, Hazel,” he murmured against my skin before pulling away. “We’ll talk soon.”
I watched him walk toward the elevator, his posture once again straight and commanding. Just before the doors closed, he looked back at me, something warm and promising in his gaze.
I closed my apartment door and leaned against it, heart racing. What was happening to me? After Julian’s betrayal, I’d sworn I wouldn’t let myself fall for anyone again so quickly. Yet here I was, breathless from a forehead kiss and already missing Damien’s
presence.
“Get it together, Hazel,” I muttered to myself.
I needed distraction. Work would help. I retreated to my home office and lost myself in sketches for the upcoming collection, forcing my thoughts away from broad shoulders and gentle embraces.
Hours later, my phone rang, displaying an unfamiliar number.
“Hello?” I answered cautiously.
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“Is this Ms. Ashworth?” A woman’s voice asked. “This is Margo from The Vault Lounge. We have a patron here who’s… well, he’s quite intoxicated and keeps insisting we call you.”
I closed my eyes, already knowing. “Let me guess. Julian Grayson?”
“Yes, that’s him. He’s been here for hours, drinking expensive whiskey and telling everyone about how his ex–wife is the love of his life. He can barely stand now.”
The old Hazel would have rushed to help him, would have felt responsible. But that woman was gone.
“I’m sorry, but that’s not my problem anymore. We’re divorced. Have you tried calling his mother or his sister?”
“He refused to give us any other numbers,” Margo explained, sounding uncomfortable. “He just kept saying, ‘Call Hazel. She always takes care of me.””
“Well, not anymore,” I said firmly. “I suggest you call him a taxi or contact the Grayson family directly. Their number is listed. I’m sure his mother would be happy to collect her son.”
“I… I understand. Sorry to bother you, Ms. Ashworth.”
After hanging up, I tapped my pen against my desk, irritation simmering. Julian was still trying to manipulate me, still assuming I’d come running. But maybe this was an opportunity to drive home the reality of our situation.
I pulled up Mrs. Landon’s number–Julian’s mother had never changed it in all the years I’d known her. Despite the late hour, she answered on the third ring.
“Hazel? What on earth are you calling for at this hour?” Her voice was sharp with displeasure.
“Mrs. Landon, I’m calling to inform you that Julian is heavily intoxicated at The Vault Lounge. They’re looking for someone to collect him.”
“And why aren’t you handling it? You were always so eager to play the devoted fiancée
before.”
I gripped my phone tighter. “Because we’re divorced as of this morning. The decree was finalized. Julian is your problem now, not mine.”
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“How dare you speak to me that way!” she hissed. “After everything our family did for You”
“Let me be crystal clear” I interrupted, my voice ley. “If Julian continues to harass me, I will be forced to use what I know about Giselle’s financial fraud. I have the evidence,
and I won’t hesitate to turn it over to the authorities.”
“You vindictive little
“Goodbye, Mrs. Landon. Please don’t contact me again.”
Lended the call, my hand trembling slightly. Standing up to Julian’s formidable mother had never been easy, but it felt different now. Liberating. I had nothing left to lose with the Graysons, and nothing left to fear from them.
With that unpleasant task complete, I returned to my work until exhaustion finally dragged me to bed around three in the morning. As I drifted off, my thoughts returned to Damien not his power or wealth, but the vulnerable way he’d trusted me enough to fall asleep in my arms.
The shrill ring of my phone jolted me awake. Sunlight streamed through my bedroom windows as I fumbled for the device, squinting at the bright screen. It was barely seven in the morning,
“Hello” I croaked, voice thick with sleep.
“Hazel Ashworth!” A hysterical voice sobbed through the speaker. It took me a moment to recognize Mrs. Landon, her usual composed tone replaced by raw panic. “Please, you have to come to County Memorial Hospital right away!”
I sat up, instantly alert. “What’s happened?”
“It’s Julian!” she cried, her voice breaking. “He’s not doing well! He’s being resuscitated! Please come to the hospital and save him. I’m begging you, please save him!”
My blood ran cold. Despite everything Julian had done, despite my determination to move on, the thought of him dying struck me with unexpected force.
“Mrs. Landon, what do you mean ‘save him? I’m not a doctor-”
“Your blood!” she walled. “He needs your blood! No one else is a match. Please, Hazel. Whatever happened between you, don’t let him die!”
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The phone slipped in my suddenly sweaty palm as memories flooded back–five years of regular donations, the rare blood type we shared, the life–saving transfusions that had sustained him through his illness.
“I’ll…” My voice failed me as conflicting emotions warred within me. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
As I hung up and rushed to dress, my mind reeled with the implications. Just when I thought I was finally free of Julian Grayson, fate had bound us together once more through the blood in our veins–a connection I couldn’t sever no matter how much I
wanted to.
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