Chapter 118: Chapter 117: The Grandfather’s Call
DAMIEN’S POV
Damien was in the middle of reviewing quarterly reports when his phone rang with a ringtone he hadn’t heard in six months.
Grandfather.
He answered immediately, standing from his desk. "Grandfather. This is unexpected."
"Damien, my boy!" Richard Blackwood’s voice boomed through the speaker, still strong despite his seventy-eight years. "Is that any way to greet your old man? No ’how was your trip?’ No ’did you finally get eaten by a tiger in India?’"
Despite everything, Damien smiled. His grandfather was one of the few people in the world who could make him genuinely smile. "How was your trip? And I assume you weren’t eaten since you’re calling me."
"Spectacular! Six months traveling the world, seeing things I should have seen forty years ago. Tibet, India, Morocco, New Zealand....I’m telling you, boy, retirement is wasted on the old. You should take a sabbatical while you’re still young enough to enjoy it."
"Some of us have companies to run."
"Bah. That company practically runs itself. You’ve built an empire, Damien. You can take a damn vacation." His grandfather’s tone shifted, became more serious. "But that’s not why I’m calling. I’m coming home. Two weeks. I want to have dinner with you the night I arrive."
"Of course. I’ll clear my schedule."
"Good. Because we have things to discuss. Important things."
Damien’s instincts prickled. His grandfather didn’t use that tone unless something was wrong. "What kind of things?"
"The kind that require scotch and privacy. But since you asked...." His grandfather sighed. "I’ve been getting calls. From Harold Ashford."
Damien’s jaw tightened. Harold Ashford. Victoria’s grandfather. One of the old guard who still believed in arranged marriages and business alliances through bloodlines.
"Let me guess. He wants to discuss a merger."
"Not a business merger. A family one." His grandfather’s voice was dry. "He’s been singing in my ears for the past three months about how perfect his granddaughter Victoria would be for you. How a Blackwood-Ashford alliance would strengthen both families. How you two would make beautiful babies and rule New York society together."
"Absolutely not."
"I told him as much. Told him you’re a grown man who makes his own decisions. But Harold is persistent. And he seems to think he has ammunition."
"What kind of ammunition?"
"Apparently, Victoria has been telling him that you two have been seeing each other. That there’s potential for a relationship. That she’s been visiting you at the office regularly for ’business discussions.’" His grandfather paused. "Is any of that true?"
Damien’s hand tightened on the phone. "She’s visited the office twice. Both times uninvited. Both times I made it clear we have no personal relationship."
"But you didn’t ban her completely?"
"I did. Two weeks ago." After she’d cornered Aria. After she’d threatened the woman he.....
He stopped that thought before it could complete.
"Well, Harold seems to think there’s hope. And he’s the type to push until he gets what he wants." His grandfather’s voice softened. "Which brings me to my real question, boy. Is there someone? Someone who would make Harold’s scheming irrelevant?"
Through the glass wall, Damien could see Aria at her desk, talking on the phone with someone, probably a client. Professional. Composed. Giving no indication that less than four hours ago, she’d come on his fingers against his office door.
"It’s complicated," he said finally.
"Complicated how?"
"She....." How did he explain this? "We’re working through something"
"Working something how? Are you together or not?"
"We’re...." Damien struggled for words. "We’re rebuilding trust. Taking things slow."
"Damien Blackwood taking things slow with a woman. Never thought I’d see the day." His grandfather chuckled. "She must be special. What’s her name?"
"Aria. Aria Chen."
"Chen. Chinese?"
"Half. Her mother is Chinese, father was American."
"And what does she do? How did you meet her?"
Damien couldn’t tell him the truth. Couldn’t say she infiltrated my home as a maid to steal a rare plant and I fell in love with her despite....or because of....the deception.
"She’s brilliant. Medical background, but also skilled in technology and art. We met through.....circumstances. And then she started working for me."
"She works for you?" His grandfather’s tone sharpened. "As what?"
"My personal assistant."
"Jesus, Damien. Tell me you’re not sleeping with your employee."
"We’re not...." He stopped. They weren’t sleeping together. Weren’t fucking. But they were definitely doing other things. "It’s complicated."
"You said that already. Complicated isn’t an answer." His grandfather sighed. "Look, I’m not going to lecture you. You’re thirty-one years old, you can make your own mistakes. But I need to know....is this serious? Or is this just you working through whatever happened between you?"
Damien looked at Aria again. Watched her laugh at something the person on the phone said. Watched her tuck a strand of hair behind her ear in that gesture he found inexplicably endearing.
"I don’t know," he admitted. "I want it to be serious. But I’m.....I’m trying to trust her again and it’s harder than I thought."
"But you took her back."
"I’m trying to."
"And in the meantime, Harold Ashford is plotting to marry you off to his granddaughter." His grandfather’s voice was thoughtful. "Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m coming home in two weeks. You’re going to bring Aria to dinner. I’m going to meet this woman who has my grandson so twisted up he can barely explain their relationship. And then we’re going to figure out how to handle Harold’s scheming."
"Grandfather, I don’t think...."
"Not negotiable. If this girl is important to you....if she’s the reason you’re not interested in Victoria.....then I need to meet her. Need to look her in the eye and see what you see in her."
"And if you don’t approve?"
"Then I’ll tell you. But I’ll also respect your choice. You’re not a child, Damien. I’m not going to dictate who you love. His grandfather’s voice softened. "You deserve someone who sees your value. Who loves you for who you are, not what you can give them. Does she?"
Damien thought about Aria’s tears when he’d caught her in the greenhouse. The way she’d looked at him like her heart was breaking. The way she’d submitted to his terms without question, agreeing to whatever punishment he demanded if it meant having him back.
"Yes," he said quietly. "She does."
"Then I look forward to meeting her. Two weeks. Clear your calendar. And Damien? Whatever happened between you....whatever she did....if you’re going to give her another chance, actually give it to her. Don’t keep her in limbo forever. Either forgive her or let her go."
Julian’s words. His grandfather’s words. Everyone telling him the same thing.
Figure out what you want.
"I’m working on it," Damien said.
"Work faster. Life’s too short for complicated." His grandfather chuckled. "I’ll see you in two weeks. Give my regards to the board. And Damien? Don’t let Harold bully you into anything. Victoria Ashford might be beautiful and well-bred, but if your heart’s already taken, that’s the end of the discussion."
"Understood."
The call ended, and Damien sat back in his chair, processing.
Two weeks. His grandfather would be back in two weeks.
Which meant he had two weeks to figure out what the hell he was doing with Aria. Two weeks to decide if he was actually rebuilding toward a future or just torturing them both.
Two weeks before he had to introduce her as....what? His girlfriend? His employee he was sleeping with? The woman he loved but didn’t fully trust yet?
And hanging over all of it: Victoria’s grandfather pushing for a marriage alliance. The kind of pressure that could complicate everything.
He needed to tell Aria. Needed to warn her that in two weeks, she’d be meeting the most important person in his life. The man whose opinion mattered more than anyone else’s.
But first....
He checked his watch. 11:53 AM.
She’d be taking lunch soon. And he found himself craving her again, the need that had supposedly been satisfied this morning already roaring back to life.
Insatiable. That’s what he’d told her.
And it was true.
A month of deprivation had turned him into something desperate. Something that couldn’t get enough of her taste, her touch, her submission.
He pulled out his phone, typed out a message.
Lunch at my desk today. 12:30. Bring two salads from the café downstairs. Lock the door behind you.
Her response came seconds later.
Yes, sir.
Two simple words that sent heat through his veins.
He had thirty-seven minutes to finish his work. Thirty-seven minutes to prepare.
And then he’d claim her again.
Because despite everything....the complications, the trust issues, his grandfather’s impending visit, Victoria’s scheming.....
Right now, the only thing that mattered was the woman twenty feet away who’d become his addiction.
