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Chapter 109 – Damien’s Revelation: Secrets of a Drunken Night
“Now it’s your turn, Damlen said, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he leaned back in his chair. “Tell me about Julian,”
I nearly choked on my tea. “Excuse me?”
“You asked about my past relationships. It’s only fair I get to ask about yours. His tone was light, but I detected an underlying seriousness.
“That’s different,” I protested, setting down my cup. “Julian is… complicated.”
“All the more reason to discuss him.” Damien folded his hands on the table. “Consider it part of our little game. I’ve answered your questions honestly. Now it’s your turn.
I squirmed in my seat. The hotpot steamed between us, the spicy aroma suddenly less appetizing as memories of my ex–fiancé surfaced.
“Fine,” I sighed, relenting. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything.” His eyes locked with mine. “When did you meet? Why did you stay with him for six years? Did you truly love him?”
The directness of his questions caught me off guard. I took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts.
“We met at a charity event my university was hosting. Julian was there representing his family’s business.” I stirred the broth absently. “He was… charming. Attentive. He made me feel special when no one else did.”
Damien’s expression remained neutral, encouraging me to continue.
“Six months later, he was diagnosed with his blood condition. I was a match, one of the few people who could help him. After that..” I shrugged. “It felt like we were bound together. He needed me. No one had ever needed me before.”
“And you stayed because of obligation?” Damien asked softly.
“Not entirely.” I frowned, realizing I was voicing thoughts I’d never fully articulated. “I think I mistook gratitude for love. He was grateful I was saving his life, and I was
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grateful someone saw value in me,”
Damien’s gaze turned piercing. “Did he ever make you feel truly desired, Hazel? As a woman?”
My cheeks burned at the intimate question. “That’s… personal.”
“It’s a simple question. His voice dropped lower. “Did he ever look at you the way I
do?”
My heart hammered against my ribs. The way Damien was looking at me now–intense, hungry, yet somehow restrained–sent heat cascading through my body.
“No,” I admitted quietly. “Julian was always… proper. Respectful to a fault.”
“Too respectful to touch you? To want you?” Damien pressed, his fingers drumming
v on the table.
“We were waiting for marriage,” I blurted out, embarrassment coloring my voice. “It was mutual.”
A knowing smile curved Damien’s lips. “Was it really?”
“Yes!” I insisted, though doubt crept in. Had it been mutual? Or had I simply accepted Julian’s distance because I’d never known anything else?
“Looking back,” I continued slowly, “I think we were both using each other. I wanted a family, stability. He wanted… a caretaker, maybe. Someone reliable.”
Not
passion,” Damien observed.
“No,” I whispered. “Not passion.”
Damien nodded, as if confirming something he’d already suspected. “You’ve never been properly loved, Hazel. You’ve never been properly wanted.”
His words stripped me bare. I stared at him, unable to form a response.
-heart. Is it any “You grew up in a home where affection was conditional at best,” he continued. “Then you attached yourself to a man who valued your blood more than y wonder you settled for so little?”
“I didn’t settle,” I protested weakly.
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“You did.” His voice was gentle but firm. “And do you know how I know?
I shook my head, mesmerized by the certainty in his eyes.
“Because I’ve seen how you react when someone truly desires you. I’ve felt it
Confusion washed over me. “What are you talking about?
Damien’s lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. “Your birthday night, Hazel. After Victoria’s party.”
My stomach dropped. “What about it?”
“You don’t remember, do you?” He chuckled. “You were… quite intoxicated.”
Horror dawned as fragments of memory surfaced–too many cocktails, Victoria insisting I loosen up, the room spinning….
“What happened?” I demanded, dread pooling in my gut.
“I drove you home,” Damien said casually, though his eyes remained intense. “You were in no condition to get yourself back safely.”
“And?” My voice came out as a squeak.
“And you were very… affectionate.” His smile widened. “Quite determined to get to know me better, in fact.”
My face flamed hotter than the bubbling hotpot. “You’re making this up.”
“Am I?” He raised an eyebrow. “Let’s see… you told me, and I quote, “Men are only good for two things–opening pickle jars and making women scream in bed. Then you asked if I was good at both.”
I covered my face with my hands. “Oh my god.”
“You weren’t satisfied with my non–answer,” he continued, clearly enjoying my mortification. “You informed me that you’d been engaged to a ‘frigid stick–in–the–mud” for six years and deserved to know what ‘real passion‘ felt like.”
“Please stop,” I groaned, peeking through my fingers at him.
“And then,” his voice dropped to a husky whisper, “you grabbed my tie, pulled me down to you, and kissed me. Right there in your doorway.”
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組
My hands dropped to the table. “I did what?”
“You kissed me,” he repeated, leaning forward. “Quite enthusiastically. And when you finally let me go, you said-”
“Don’t,” I pleaded.
Now that’s how a man should kiss. Why have I wasted all these years?””
I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole. The worst part wasn’t even the embarrassment–it was that I couldn’t remember any of it. What must have been my first real passionate kiss, and it was lost to a drunken haze.
“You’re enjoying this,” I accused.
“Immensely,” he admitted. “But there’s a point to my story, Hazel.
“Which is?”
“That night, uninhibited and free from your usual restraint, your true desires surfaced.” His expression grew serious. “You weren’t thinking about Julian. You weren’t holding back. You were simply acting on what you really wanted.”
“I was drunk,” I argued weakly.
“Exactly. And alcohol doesn’t create feelings–it reveals them.” Damien reached across the table and took my hand. “Your unfiltered self wanted me that night. Not Julian. Not anyone else. Me.”
My throat tightened as the truth of his words sank in. Even before everything fell apart with Julian, some part of me had been drawn to Damien.
“That’s why I’ve been patient,” he continued, his thumb stroking my palm. “Why I’ve given you time to process your broken engagement, to find your footing. Because I –knew, from that night, that underneath all your hesitation and fear, you felt the same
attraction I did.”
“You could have told me this sooner,” I managed to say.
“Would you have believed me? Or would you have run away?” His knowing look told me he already knew the answer.
I bit my lip, unable to deny it. I would have fled, embarrassed and overwhelmed.
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“So now you know,” he said, his voice dropping to a silky murmur. “You’ve kissed me before. And from your reaction that night, you enjoyed it very, very much.”
The air between us crackled with tension. Despite my mortification, I couldn’t deny the heat building low in my belly at his words, at the memory I couldn’t fully recall but could now imagine vividly.
“So Hazel, Damien’s voice was quiet but confident, his eyes never leaving mine, “this is the truest reaction of someone who likes another. This is also why I’m willing to wait for you, to pursue you–don’t say you don’t like me, how could I not see, you like me to
death.”
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