Chapter 11 Damien

Chapter 11 Damien
I felt stressed. I regretted not being able to race last week. I had to fly to Paris for an important dinner with Adrien Moreau — owner of one of the top restaurants in the city. He wanted to collaborate with my brand, and when my secretary first told me about his offer, I actually considered letting her handle it. But I wanted to meet him myself, to look him in the eyes and see what kind of man I’d be partnering with.

At dinner, we discussed potential menu ideas for the collaboration. Adrien was sharp, confident, and spoke like a man who knew the weight of his own reputation. It was clear this deal would bring more visibility to my brand, and by the time we shook hands, I knew it was a good move.

The next day, I decided to meet up with Sebastian. My closest friend. My brother in every way that mattered. He’s the one who introduced me to biking, the only thing that ever gave me real peace. In many ways, he saved my life. He’s thirty now, just two years older than me, and also the COO of my company ,the face that the public sees, while I remain hidden. I prefer it that way. The world doesn’t need to know who runs the empire, not yet. Especially not the Dubois family.

“It’s been a long time,” Sebastian said, pulling me into a tight hug.

“Sure has,” I replied with a small smile.

“How have you been? Still racing, I see.” He grinned, patting my shoulder like he was inspecting me.

“Yeah. Helps me blow off steam. I just wrapped up that dinner with Adrien, it went better than I expected.” I said, slapping his hand away.

“Yeah, my secretary mentioned that. Business has been great. We’ve moved up the global ranking, to third place now.” He smiled proudly. “Everything’s finally falling into place for you, man.”

We talked for a while, about the company, the expansion, and the future. Then, as usual, it all came back to racing.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve raced,” Sebastian said, stretching his arms. “Go easy on me, yeah?”

“Not a chance,” I smirked.

We both got on our bikes, engines rumbling beneath us. The moment the timer beeped, the world around us disappeared ,just the wind, the speed, the blur of the road. I shifted gears, racing full throttle, leaving him in my dust. He caught up a minute later, laughing through the helmet speakers.

“Knew you weren’t rusty,” I muttered, pushing faster until we reached the end of the road. A draw.

“That happened because I took it easy on you,” I teased, taking off my helmet.

He laughed. “We both know you didn’t.”

Then, out of nowhere, he asked, “When are you getting yourself a girl?”

“I’m focused on the company right now,” I said, unbothered.

“You could really use someone, Damien. All this success means nothing if you don’t live a little.”

His words hung in the air longer than I liked. Against my will, my mind drifted  to her. Ella. That night at the club. Her body swaying to the rhythm, the red dress clinging to her in all the right places, her carefree smile… damn it.

“What are you thinking about?” Sebastian asked, studying me.

“I’ll be happy the day I get revenge for my father,” I said coldly.

He sighed, disappointment flickering in his eyes. “You’re still letting the past control you.”

An hour later, after we caught up properly, I returned to my hotel. I took a cold shower and laid on the bed, but sleep refused to come. Every time I closed my eyes, her face appeared — Ella. The way her hair fell into her eyes that day at the café… it took everything in me not to reach out and brush it aside. What the hell was wrong with me?

I left Paris the next day.

When I got home, I crashed immediately, exhausted from jet lag. By noon, I woke up, took a quick shower, and decided to stop by the café. I wore a plain white T-shirt, black jeans, and white sneakers. The moment I stepped in, the smell of fresh pastries hit me,warm, sweet, familiar. I glanced around, already searching for her without realizing it.

But a different waitress approached to take my order. Not her.

A sharp pang of disappointment hit me. I drank my coffee in silence, nibbling at the croissant, staring into nothing. I stayed long after my table was cleared, hoping she’d appear. She didn’t. I left, only to come back again later that evening. Still nothing. My patience was wearing thin, so I called Alex.

“Hey man,” he answered immediately.

“I was at the café earlier. Didn’t see Ella or your girlfriend,” I said, trying to sound casual.

“Oh, yeah. They don’t work weekdays anymore,” he replied easily.

“Really?” I asked, my tone sharper than I intended. “So they got another job?”

“They actually started school,” he said.

“School?” The word slipped out before I could stop it.

“Yeah. Why? Do you need something from them?”

Think, Damien. Think.
“I found one of Ella’s hair clips,” I lied smoothly. “Must’ve fallen when I helped her that night at the hotel. I just wanted to return it.”

He paused. “They’ll be back on the weekend shift.”

“Got it. Thanks,” I said, ending the call.

I sat there for a while, staring at nothing. Ambitious. She was ambitious. The thought made something warm stir inside me , pride, maybe? Or something more dangerous. I decided to visit my mother; it had been too long.

I bought Chinese takeout from her favorite restaurant and headed to her house.
“The prodigal son returns,” she teased with a smile when she opened the door.
“That would be me,” I said, laughing.
“How’s the company? Are you eating well? Sleeping? You look thinner—”
“Ma, too many questions at once,” I chuckled.
“You barely visit, Damien. Let me at least make sure you’re okay,” she said, voice softening.

She looked older,more tired than I remembered. Guilt tightened in my chest. Everything I’d built, every late night, every deal… it was all for her. For what she endured because of him.

“The company’s doing great,” I said, smiling faintly. “I’m eating properly. And healthy.”
We talked for hours, laughing over dinner. When I stood to leave, she called out,
“Visit more often, my son.”
“I will,” I promised.

The rest of the week blurred by meetings, deadlines, and thoughts of Ella that refused to leave me alone.

By the weekend, I found myself back at the café at noon. I told myself it was for the coffee, but I knew better. I wore a cap low over my face and took the last booth, farthest from the wall, the best view of the counter.

And there she was.

Her hair glistened under the light, her soft smile bright as she spoke to a customer. She looked... radiant. I shouldn’t have stayed, but I couldn’t look away. Her laugh drifted across the room, light and genuine. For some reason, it eased something in me I didn’t even know was tense.

I sipped the last of my cold coffee, pretending to read the book in my hand. But really, I was watching her every move, every smile, every tilt of her head.

When I finally stood to leave, I caught myself smiling like an idiot.

What the hell was she doing to me?

I got on my motorcycle, still humming under my breath. Maybe it was the caffeine. Maybe not. Either way, it felt like a damn good start to the weekend.