Chapter 42 Mrs. Darcy
JASMINE
I was grateful she didn’t press me with questions about my mother. I wasn’t ready to talk about her yet. But somehow, with Darcy, I felt safe.
We packed the cookies into clear glass containers.
“Come on,” she said, lifting one of the jars.
“We’re taking them to my kitchen. Damien gets really funny when he wants something sweet.”
I followed her into the elevator, my thoughts drifting—like they always did—to Damien.
Darcy made me wonder who Damien really was beneath the walls he built around himself. She had made it clear that he hadn’t always been this distant, and it left me questioning what had changed him.
He wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t unkind.
Just… closed off.
Especially with me.
These past few days, he barely spoke when he entered a room I was in. He stayed in his study, his bedroom, or the gym. Even when I went to the same places, we never crossed paths.
He was avoiding me.
And somehow, it hurt.
I couldn’t help but think it was because of Ray and what he had seen that day. But there was nothing between Ray and me—nothing more than friendship.
Still, every time Damien looked at me and then looked away, something twisted painfully in my chest.
Darcy’s suite was breathtaking. Royal blue and cream decorated the walls, and everything looked elegant and warm at the same time.
“Thank you, dear,” she said as we placed the jars in one of her cupboards.
“It’s okay. The cookies were lovely,” I replied, glancing around in awe. “Your place is beautiful.”
She hummed thoughtfully. “Damien loves spoiling me.”
Then she turned to me, taking my hands in hers. “I want you and Damien to come over for dinner tomorrow.”
My chest tightened at the word family, but I masked it with a small smile. “Okay. I’ll tell him.”
“It’ll be wonderful,” she beamed. “We’ll eat together like a family.”
She moved back to the counter, looking over her ingredients. “We’ll have to go shopping soon.”
She turned to me with excitement. “Girls’ day out?”
I smiled warmly. “Can't wait.”
“Tell him dinner is by eight,” she added with a mischievous grin. “And if he’s late, I’ll pull his ears.”
I laughed softly.
“And if you want, you can come earlier and help me cook. I loved baking with you today.”
Her jade-green eyes looked hopeful.
“I’d like that,” I said.
“See you then, bestie!” she cheered as I left her kitchen.
When I stepped out of the elevator, Damien was already there, leaning against the wall.
His hands were tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants. He looked up at me through his thick lashes, and my heart skipped.
His hair was messy, and a thin white shirt clung to his sculpted frame.
“Y-your mom says we should come for dinner tomorrow and—”
“She doesn’t want me to be late,” he finished for me, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
“Yeah.” I hesitated. “You don’t seem very glad that Darcy is here.”
He sighed and walked away, dropping onto the sofa. “I’m not.”
I sat beside him carefully.
“I just want to take care of her,” he said quietly. “I left her with my cousin so she could rest.
She’s been through too much.”
His emerald eyes dulled, and my chest tightened at the sight.
“She doesn’t listen to me,” he continued. “She never does.”
I placed my hand over his gently. “I don’t know her as well as you do, but I know she feels peaceful being here with you. What she wants isn’t comfort or luxury… it’s you.”
He looked at me deeply.
“She loves you,” I whispered. “Please don’t push her away.”
Silence fell between us.
He leaned closer without realizing it.
Our faces were inches apart, his hand moved to cup my cheek, his eyes drifting down to stare hungrily at my lips.
My breath caught.
I shifted back nervously. “Um… I think I should call it a night.”
As I turned away, ready to stand his voice brushed my ear, so close.
“Good night, tesoro.”
A shiver ran down my spine.
I turned just in time to watch him stand and walking into the elevator, disappearing behind the doors.
And my heart was left racing in his absence.
~
“Dice them properly, Jasmine!” Darcy called out sharply from behind the pot she was stirring, throwing me a stern sideways glance.
I flinched at her strict tone. Turns out, Darcy was a complete beast in the kitchen—an absolute perfectionist. Everything had to be measured, cut, and prepared exactly the way she wanted it.
“I am, Darcy! Gosh!” I protested with a laugh, shaking my head as I raised the knife again.
Her eyes narrowed into a glare. “Are you laughing at my cooking instructions?”
“Oh, hell no. Why would I?” I lied poorly, feigning innocence while snickering under my breath.
Something smacked against my arm.
“Ow!”
I looked down in shock and saw a small ball of chopped onion rolling across the floor beside my foot. Slowly, I lifted my gaze back to Darcy. She stood there with an evil grin plastered on her face, wooden spoon in hand like a weapon.
“Did you just throw onion at me?” I asked, wide-eyed.
“Oh, hell no. Why would I?” she repeated mockingly, grinning wider.
I felt the sudden urge to sabotage everything she had told me to do—but as if she could read my thoughts, she sent me another warning glare. I straightened immediately and went back to dicing obediently.
I had taken her offer seriously and stopped by her suite earlier to help prepare dinner. We spent hours reviewing recipes, ingredients, and plating arrangements. When she showed me the menu she had planned—a full three-course meal—I nearly fainted.
A starter. A main course. Dessert.
I could barely make toast without burning it, and here she was orchestrating a feast fit for royalty.
Yet somehow, with her guiding me step by step, things went surprisingly well. Time slipped by so quickly that before I knew it, everything was ready.