Chapter 111

Chapter 111

Beatrice withdrew her gaze, looked at Damien, fell silent for two seconds, then nodded with a flat tone. "Sure, have a seat."

"Thank you." A barely perceptible smile tugged at Damien's lips. He waved at Liam behind him, signaling him to wait outside, then pulled out the chair across from Beatrice and sat down, right next to John.

As soon as he settled in, he looked up at everyone, his tone casual. "Since you've all agreed to share the table, let me treat you to this meal—consider it my thanks for looking after Isabella earlier."

"Who wants you to pay," Isabella muttered under her breath with a soft huff, though she didn't dare openly object.

After all, she remembered Damien's earlier warning—if she dared talk out of turn, he'd pack her off back to London.

No one else spoke. Only the murmur of other diners and the clinking of silverware filled the air. The atmosphere grew awkward.

John, observing the stifling silence, broke it first.

He raised his water glass toward Damien, his tone polite but distant. "Mr. Stuart, about Bea being kidnapped by Jacques—we're grateful you intervened to save her. We never properly thanked you."

"If there's anything we can help you with in the future, just say the word. We'll do our best."

Damien smiled and nodded, his fingertips lightly tracing the rim of his glass. But his gaze crossed the table, locking firmly onto Beatrice's face.

He spoke slowly. "Oh? That's what Mr. Williams thinks. But what about Ms. Sinclair? Do you also feel you owe me a favor and want to repay it?"

Beatrice hadn't expected him to suddenly turn the conversation toward her. Her hand holding the water glass paused slightly. She looked up at him, momentarily stunned, then nodded as well.

Her tone was calm but earnest. "Of course, Mr. Stuart. You saved me. I've never forgotten that debt. If there's anything you need my help with—as long as it doesn't go against my principles—I'll do my best."

"Perfect." Damien's smile deepened as he picked up her thread. "Ms. Sinclair, I do have a small favor to ask."

Beatrice's heart sank. An uneasy premonition rose within her. She frowned, looking at Damien. "Please, Mr. Stuart, what is it?"

Damien met her eyes, his tone unhurried. "The injuries to my spleen and pancreas—to fully heal them without lasting complications, I need to return home and find a top doctor. I'll need herbal medicine and acupuncture for gradual treatment."

"Ms. Sinclair, I've lived in Eldoria for years. I'm completely unfamiliar with doctors back home. I'd like to ask you to help me find a reliable physician."

The request seemed reasonable enough.

Beatrice nodded after hearing him out. "That's no problem. Once I'm back home, I'll ask around. If I find someone suitable, I'll let you know right away."

"Thank you in advance, Ms. Sinclair." Damien looked at her, then abruptly shifted gears. "But there's one more thing I need to trouble you with."

"Physical recovery is a slow process. I'll need to brew herbal medicine regularly. Staying in a hotel is inconvenient—open flames aren't safe."

"I don't have a suitable place to stay back home. I was wondering if I could stay at your place for a while, just until my health improves?"

The moment those words left his mouth, the table fell into deathly silence.

Emily nearly spit out the mouthful of lemon water she'd just sipped.

She coughed violently, her eyes going wide. "You—what did you just say?! Stay at—at Bea's place?!"

Isabella couldn't hold back. She slammed the table and shot to her feet. "Damien! Are you out of your—"

Before she could finish, Damien shot her a cold glance.

Isabella instantly deflated, the rest of her words jamming in her throat. She plopped back into her chair, fuming, secretly rolling her eyes and cursing him eight hundred times in her mind.

Damien acted as if he hadn't noticed everyone's shock at all. His gaze remained locked on Beatrice's face. "Ms. Sinclair, I wonder if you could agree to this request?"

Beatrice sat frozen, completely blindsided by such an absurd demand.

She snapped out of it, her brow furrowing tightly. Just as she was about to refuse, John spoke up first.

John's tone carried unmistakable coldness as he looked at Damien. "Mr. Stuart, I'm afraid that's not appropriate."

"You're a strange man moving into Bea's home. It's improper by any standard and would cause her considerable trouble."

"Oh? Not appropriate?" Damien turned his head toward John, his expression somewhere between a smile and a smirk.

His eyes held undisguised provocation as he spoke slowly. "I don't see what's inappropriate about it. After all, Ms. Sinclair only has a husband she's divorcing. She doesn't have a fiancé, does she?"

At those words, John's expression instantly darkened further.

John's fists clenched slightly. He was about to respond when Beatrice cut in first.

She looked up at Damien, her eyes carrying obvious coldness, her tone calm but unyielding. "Mr. Stuart, I'm sorry, but I can't agree to that request."

"Finding you a doctor—I can help with that. I can even arrange suitable accommodations and a caregiver during your recovery. None of that's a problem."

"But staying at my home—I'm afraid that won't work."

Damien sighed, a trace of disappointment in his eyes. "Ms. Sinclair, may I ask why?"

Why does he even need to ask?

Everyone at the table silently grumbled.

Beatrice felt a headache coming on, but under his burning gaze, she couldn't avoid answering.

"It's like this, Mr. Stuart. As you know, I have a husband I'm divorcing," Beatrice had no choice but to bring up Theodore.

"Right now, I'm staying with my parents. If you were to move in, it would complicate my divorce considerably."

Beatrice smiled slightly. "So I'm sorry."

Damien paused briefly, then nodded. "That is indeed inconvenient. Wouldn't want to interfere with your divorce."

Beatrice sensed deeper meaning in his words but didn't want to dwell on it.

Just then, Damien turned toward John, who had just breathed a sigh of relief.

John felt a chill run down his spine under his gaze.

"Mr. Stuart, if you have something to say, please speak freely."

Damien smiled. "Mr. Williams, since Ms. Sinclair's place isn't convenient, would it be all right if I stayed at yours?"