Chapter 91 Us?
Damien hadn’t moved an inch.
She gathered her hair into a braided bun, her fingers nimble as she twisted and pinned it into place. A few loose strands were left to frame her face, and she twirled them absently, studying her reflection with quiet focus.
Only when she seemed satisfied did she rise from the chair and walk toward Damien.
She stopped in front of him and then turned her back, presenting the open ribbons of her dress.
“Can you lace me up?” she asked softly.
Damien blinked, as though waking from a trance.
“Oh—yes. Of course.”
He stepped closer. His fingers brushed her skin as he gathered the ribbons, and Jasmine felt the warmth of him behind her. Slowly, carefully, he tied the dress, tightening the laces so the fabric fit her perfectly. His touch was reverent, almost hesitant.
“There,” he said quietly.
“Thank you.”
She turned around—and found him still staring.
Her lips curved into a small smile. Her gaze dropped to the tie still clenched in his hand.
She reached for it.
He didn’t resist.
Jasmine stepped closer, looping the tie beneath his collar. Her fingers worked slowly, deliberately, her eyes lifting to meet his as she adjusted the knot.
“You’re distracted, Mr. Blackwood,” she murmured.
“And whose fault do you think that is?” he replied.
She finished the tie and smoothed his chest with her palm. “Mine, obviously.”
She turned to walk away but Damien caught her wrist. She gasped softly as he pulled her back against him. His arms came around her, holding her there, his eyes searching her face with something deep and tender.
“My beautiful tesoro,” he said, his voice low.
Her smile softened. “Yes, sir,” she answered, deliberately slow and sensual.
He shook his head, laughing under his breath. “Careful. You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“Maybe I am.”
“I could skip work today,” he said quietly, his tone promising far more than the words themselves. “But I don’t think your uncle would be very pleased if you canceled on him this afternoon.”
Jasmine shivered. “Okay then.”
She leaned forward and pressed an open-mouthed kiss along his jaw, then down to his throat. His breath caught. Her hand moved over his chest in slow, teasing paths, making his pulse race.
“Tesoro…” he warned. Then her hand trailed to his trouser, to his sleeping member and she decided to change that. In a soft, single move Jasmine cups his length in her palm.
Damien inhales a sharp breath, a groan slipping from his lips. She pulled back with a mischievous smile and reached for the necklace he had given her, fastening it around her neck as if nothing had happened.
Damien stood there, one hand over his face, watching her like a man being tested, his breathing was uneven, his erection swelling.
“Your jacket, Mr. Damien,” she said sweetly, holding it out to him.
He stared at her. Then tried to grab her wrist—but she slipped away, laughing, “Plrase baby, don’t do this to me,” he groaned, his voice heavy with yearning and pleasurable desperation
She glanced pointedly at the obvious tension in his trousers. “Someone’s going to need a moment in the car.”
Then she grabbed her shoes and bag and ran from the room, her laughter trailing behind her.
Damien leaned against the doorframe, shaking his head with a helpless grin.
~
As Damien drove through the bustling streets of New York, a calm, comfortable silence filled the interior of the car.
The city outside the windows was alive—horns blaring in the distance, pedestrians weaving between crosswalks, sunlight glinting off glass buildings that stretched endlessly into the sky. Yellow taxis darted past them like schools of fish, and the low hum of traffic became a steady rhythm beneath the quiet inside the vehicle.
Damien had one hand on the steering wheel, steady and sure, the other resting over Jasmine’s hand in her lap. Their fingers were intertwined naturally, as if they had always belonged that way. The warmth of his palm seeped into her skin, grounding her when her thoughts threatened to spiral.
It felt familiar. Safe. Right.
Jasmine watched their joined hands for a moment before lifting her gaze to the passing streets. Every block they crossed made her chest feel tighter. Her heart thudded slowly, deliberately, like it was counting down to something inevitable.
When Damien finally pulled up beside Uncle Thomas’s restaurant, the car came to a smooth stop.
The restaurant stood proudly on the corner, its tall windows gleaming in the afternoon sun. The sign above the entrance bore her uncle’s name in elegant gold lettering, a symbol of everything he had built from nothing. People moved in and out of the doors—waiters carrying trays, customers laughing, the scent of food drifting faintly through the open air.
Jasmine didn’t move.
She sat there, staring at the building as though it might disappear if she looked away. Her fingers tightened slightly around Damien’s.
She knew—deep in her bones—that once she stepped inside, nothing would remain the same.
She would have to choose.
Stay, and risk everything with Damien.
Or leave, and be safe with Uncle Thomas, the way she had always done.
Run again. Hide again. Start over again.
Damien noticed the tension in her body immediately. He lifted her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her knuckles. “You don’t have to be afraid,” he said quietly.
Jasmine forced a small smile, though inside her mind was a battlefield of fear and hope colliding. She leaned back into her seat and turned her head to look at him properly, taking in the sharp line of his jaw, the seriousness in his eyes, the love she could see there even when he said nothing.
“Have a good time catching up with your uncle,” he added gently.
She nodded. “I will.”
The lie tasted bitter on her tongue.
Damien studied her for a moment, then spoke again, carefully. “Do you think it would be better if I came with you? To tell him about… us?”
Jasmine raised her brows slightly, caught off guard. The word us echoed loudly in her chest.
She remembered suddenly that she hadn’t only hidden her fears from Damien—she had also hidden the truth from Uncle Thomas. The contract, the arrangement. The fragile line she had been walking between safety and love.