44 Chapter 46
Chapter 46 – An Afternoon of Contrasts and Candor
The expensive watch sitting on my coffee table had been staring at me for two days now. I’d carefully placed it in its leather case, but still found myself glancing at it whenever I passed by. Damien’s watch. On my table. It felt like having a piece of him in my space – intimate and somehow unsettling.
I needed to return it, that much was clear. But there was also the matter of Mrs.
Sterling’s birthday gift that I’d purchased – the elegant Neo–Chinese style hairpin and brooch set that had caught my eye at an artisan market. I’d spent hours deliberating between several options before settling on these pieces, hoping they’d suit a woman I’d never met.
After pacing around my living room for the tenth time, I grabbed my phone and pulled up Damien’s contact. My thumb hovered over the call button.
“Just do it already,” I muttered to myself.
The phone rang three times before his deep voice answered.
“Hazel.” Just my name, spoken with such warmth it made my stomach flutter.
“Hi,” I said, immediately kicking myself for sounding so breathless. “I have your watch. I thought I should return it.”
“I was wondering when you’d call about that,” Damien replied, and I could hear the
smile in his voice.
“I also…” I paused, suddenly questioning my decision. “I have something for your mother. For her birthday. I thought maybe you could give it to her?”
A brief silence followed, and I worried I’d overstepped.
“You got something for my mother?” The surprise in his voice was unmistakable.
“It’s nothing extravagant,” I quickly added. “Just a small token. I remembered you mentioned her birthday was coming up.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you.” His tone had softened. “Are you free this afternoon? We could meet for tea near your company.”
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I checked my watch. My afternoon was relatively clear, with just a few designs to
finalize.
“Around three?”
“Perfect. There’s a rooftop café called Skyline at the Archer Building. They do an excellent afternoon tea.”
“I know the place,” I said, relief washing over me that he hadn’t suggested somewhere impossibly exclusive.
“I’ll see you then.”
After hanging up, I stared at the phone in my hand. What was I doing? This wasn’t returning a watch – this was afternoon tea with Damien Sterling. My heart raced at the implications, but I pushed those thoughts aside. This was simply about returning his property and delivering a gift, nothing more.
The Skyline Café lived up to its name, offering panoramic views of the city from its sleek rooftop setting. I spotted Damien immediately – it was impossible not to. He commanded attention even while simply sitting at a corner table, absently scrolling through something on his phone.
He wore a charcoal suit that fit his broad shoulders perfectly, the jacket open to reveal a light blue shirt underneath. No tie – casual but still impossibly polished. As I approached, he looked up and rose to his feet in one fluid motion.
“Hazel,” he said, his voice carrying over the ambient chatter of the café.
“Hi, I replied, suddenly conscious of my simple cream blouse and navy pencil skirt. I’d dressed professionally for work, not for tea with a man who looked like he’d stepped out of a luxury magazine.
He pulled out my chair, and I settled in, placing my purse on the empty chair beside
- me.
“I’m glad you called,” Damien said, retaking his seat. “I was starting to think you might keep my watch as a souvenir.”
I blushed. “I wouldn’t dream of it. It probably costs more than my car.”
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His lips quirked into a small smile. “That’s not saying much, considering the state of your car”
“Hey!” I protested, but I couldn’t help smiling too. “My car has character.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?” His eyes glinted with amusement.
A server approached, and Damien gestured for me to order first.
“Hot chocolate, please,” I said. “With whipped cream and cinnamon if you have it.”
Damien raised an eyebrow. “Black coffee for me. No sugar.”
When the server left, Damien leaned back slightly. “Hot chocolate?”
I shrugged. “I have a sweet tooth. Life’s too short for bitter drinks.”
“And yet some of us prefer the bitter,” he countered, his expression unreadable.
I studied him for a moment, struck by how our choice of beverages seemed to reflect something deeper about us. Me with my sweet indulgence, him with his stark, unadulterated preference. I wondered what else about us stood in such contrast.
Our drinks arrived, mine topped with a mountain of whipped cream that made Damien’s plain black coffee look almost severe by comparison.
“I have your watch,” I said, reaching into my purse to retrieve the leather case. I slid it across the table. “Thank you for lending it to me.”
His fingers brushed mine as he took the case, sending an unexpected jolt through me. “It served its purpose.”
I took a sip of my hot chocolate, leaving a smudge of whipped cream on my upper lip that I quickly wiped away. Damien watched the gesture with an intensity that made me
self–conscious.
“I also have this,” I said, pulling out the carefully wrapped gift box. “For your mother.”
Damien accepted the package, turning it over in his hands with genuine curiosity. “May I?”
I nodded, suddenly nervous. What if he found it tacky or inappropriate?
He carefully unwrapped the paper, revealing the velvet box inside. When he opened it,
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his eyes widened slightly at the sight of the intricately crafted hairpin and matching brooch. The traditional Chinese motifs of phoenix and peony were rendered in jade and delicate silver filigree.
“These are exquisite,” he said quietly, touching the pieces with a gentleness that surprised me.
“I remembered you mentioned she appreciates traditional Chinese craftsmanship,” I explained. “The artist who made these studied in Suzhou for years.”
Damien looked up at me, something unidentifiable flickering in his dark eyes. “How did you know she collects hairpins specifically?”
I blinked, not realizing I’d stumbled onto something so personal. “I didn’t. I just… the design caught my eye, and it seemed like something elegant that wouldn’t impose. The brooch can be worn with Western clothing too.”
“She’ll love them,” Damien said, carefully closing the box. “Truly. You have remarkable intuition, Hazel.”
The compliment warmed me more than the hot chocolate. “I’m glad. I wasn’t sure if it would be appropriate, given that we haven’t formally met.”
“Trust me, she already knows who you are.” A cryptic smile played on his lips.
I took another sip of my drink, wondering what exactly he meant by that. Had he discussed me with his mother? The thought made me both nervous and oddly pleased.
“How is your grandmother?” Damien asked, changing the subject. “Has she recovered from the excitement at her house?”
“She’s wonderful,” I said, grateful for the shift to familiar territory. “Actually, she asks about you. I think she’s quite taken with you.”
“The feeling is mutual,” Damien replied. “She reminds me of my own grandmother. Strong, perceptive women who don’t suffer fools.”
We fell into easy conversation then, discussing our respective families‘ matriarchs. It struck me how comfortable I felt with him, despite the obvious disparity in our worlds. Here was a man who could buy buildings on a whim, yet he listened intently to my stories about my grandmother’s stubborn refusal to use a smartphone.
!
As our drinks dwindled, I found myself reluctant for the meeting to end. There was
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something about Damien’s presence that felt simultaneously intimidating and safe.
A memory from years ago flashed through my mind – Julian and I having coffee early in oner relationship, me cedering something sweet while he teased me about my “childish” tastes. It hadert felt playful them, not really it had felt judgmental, though fé
consord myself otherwise.
“Something wrong” Damien asked, his sharp eyes missing nothing
I shook my head. “Just an old memory*
He nodded, not pressing further which i appreciating,
I glanced at the velvet box containing Mrs. Sterling’s gift that now sat beside Damien’s coffee cup. Taking a breath, i dueuled to wesce the insecurity that had been mugging at
“I thought, with such small items, your wadidn’t care for them, I admitted, my voice softer than intended. “That they’d seem insignificant compared to what you’re used
to”
The words hung between is my animeratality expressed like a new nerve. Theid my breath, waiting for Bus response wondering if it revended for much of my insecurity
about the vast gulf between our worlds
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45 Chapter 47
