Chapter 119 119
“I hate them,” he snarled, the words dragged out like they tasted bitter on his tongue.
“Whattttttt?” Jacqueline screeched, loud enough for his jaw to lock tight in irritation.
Before she could react, he seized her by the elbow and steered her inside the house. He stepped in after her, shut the door with finality, and turned the lock. The sharp click echoed in the quiet space.
He tossed the keys onto the side table, dropped his bag on the sofa, and shrugged out of his jacket.
Jacqueline stood frozen near the door, her gaze betraying her as his muscles flexed beneath his shirt while he peeled the jacket off.
Don’t drool, Jacqueline, she scolded herself fiercely, tearing her eyes away just before he turned.
“I hope you were joking when you said you hate vampires. They don’t even exist, Mr. Frosty,” she said, glancing around the place.
The house felt… cold. Not just in temperature, but in spirit exactly like him. The lounge was about the size of her bedroom. A narrow corridor branched off with three closed doors, and to her left sat an open kitchen. Sparse. Bare. Unwelcoming.
“You start working,” he said flatly, gesturing toward the bag before disappearing into the last room.
‘You start working,’ she mimicked under her breath, rolling her eyes dramatically. She stomped toward the sofa and flopped onto it, glaring at the door he had vanished through.
“He didn’t even ask if I wanted juice or coffee. Mannerless,” she muttered while pulling out her books.
The sofa was uncomfortable, and when her shoes brushed the floor, she realized it was dusty.
How on earth does he live like this and still drive a Lamborghini? The irony was criminal.
She scanned the hall until she spotted a broom tucked into a corner.
“What has my life come to?” she whispered to herself as she swept just enough of the dirt away so she could sit without ruining her clothes.
“What are you doing?” His deep voice cut through the air behind her.
She huffed. “Dancing and partying. What does it look like?”
Grumbling, she gathered the dust into a pile and dumped it into the bin before putting the broom back. She marched into the kitchen and washed her hands in the sink.
After drying them, she opened the refrigerator.
“You do realize you’re supposed to ask guests if they’d like something,” she muttered only to pause.
The fridge was completely empty.
Awesome.
What exactly did he eat to maintain all those muscles? Air?
If her fridge ever looked like this, she’d spiral into anxiety within minutes.
She grabbed a bottle of water from the counter, poured herself a glass and another for him. Walking back, she handed one to him and drank from her own before sitting cross-legged on the floor.
He stared at her like she had grown a second head.
“What?” she said. “Do I need to send you a formal invitation to join me? Sit down already. We’ve only got five hours.”
She noticed he was wearing sweats now. Annoyingly, he still looked good.
Instead of responding, he picked up his laptop, settled onto the two-seater sofa, and resumed working. He didn’t touch the water she gave him, just set it aside.
Jacqueline took in the place again.
No proper furniture. No electronics. Bare walls.
Maybe he spent every last penny on that Lamborghini. Idiot.
They worked in silence well, mostly. She interrupted him repeatedly with what he would undoubtedly label “stupid” questions.
She loved provoking him. His irritated expressions were priceless.
Why did he have to be so permanently grumpy?
“Would you mind if I ask you something?” she said, stretching out fully on the floor and staring at the ceiling. Her back ached from sitting too long.
“I’ll ask anyway,” she added casually.
“How do you own a freaking Lamborghini and still live in what looks like a haunted house? And why do you even live alone? Did you move out of your parents’ place, or did they kick you out for being a brooding, silent beast?”
She babbled on, as usual.
Damien rose with unnerving calmness, walked into his room, and returned holding his AirPods. Without a word, he slid them into his ears, connected them to his phone, and sat back down.
Her jaw dropped.
The audacity.
Huffing, she pushed herself up and finished the rest of her work in silence. Once done, she placed her notes on the sofa, strode over, and plucked the AirPods from his ears.
He didn’t even look up from his laptop.
“I’m done. Now drop me home,” she demanded.
“Go by yourself,” he replied coldly.
Her mouth fell open. “Excuse me? How ignorant can you be? It’s late. How am I supposed to walk alone through this creepy area? Are you insane?”
“By walking,” Damien answered smoothly.
Her left eye twitched. Her nose scrunched in fury.
“Do you have any idea what happens to a beautiful girl like me walking alone at night in places like this”
She didn’t finish.
He stood up so abruptly that she nearly stumbled backward, startled by how close he suddenly was. His hand shot out, gripping her arm to steady her.
His nose flared. He inhaled sharply. His jaw tightened.
Without explanation, he moved quickly toward his room, dragging her with him. He shoved the door open and pushed her inside.
Jacqueline stumbled, spinning around to face him, shock written all over her face.
“Stay here. And don’t you dare make a single fking sound, Jacqueline,” he warned in a voice so cold and lethal it sent a shiver down her spine.
Then he shut the door.
He said her name.
Why did it sound so… beautiful when it left his lips?
She heard his footsteps retreating. Then another voice echoed faintly from the other side of the door.
“How are you, Damien? My friend.”
The voice was smooth. Chilling.
Jacqueline swallowed.
How did Damien even know someone was at the door?
And why didn’t he want that person to see her?
“What do you want, Noël?” Damien growled, his voice no longer calm but edged with something feral.
“Why do I smell human here?” Noël mused lightly, amusement dancing in his tone.
Jacqueline’s heart skipped.
What did that even mean?