Chapter 49 *
Scarlett’s POV
Rocco's face turned purple. He muttered something under his breath.
Then he practically ran down the hallway.
I pushed open the door.
Damon's office was huge. Floor-to-ceiling windows on two walls. A massive desk. Leather furniture. Bookshelves filled with law books and business journals.
He was sitting at his desk. White dress shirt. Tie perfectly knotted. Reading glasses perched on his nose.
He was reviewing some kind of contract. Red pen in hand. Making notes in the margins.
He looked really good when he's concentrated like this. Very... commanding.
I stared a bit longer than necessary.
He looked up. Saw me standing there.
"You're late."
"Traffic."
I walked over. Set the lunch bag on his desk.
He pushed aside the contract. Started unpacking the containers.
His eyes scanned the food. Then stopped on the vegetables.
"Can you pick out the carrots and celery?"
I frowned. "But those are good for you. I specifically asked the chef to—"
"Scarlett."
"Fine."
I grabbed a fork. Started picking out the offending vegetables. Put them in a separate container.
Such a waste. I went through all that trouble for a balanced meal.
Damon watched me work. His expression amused.
When I finished, he pulled the main container toward him. Started eating.
His movements were efficient. Refined. But he ate fast.
Like he was always in a hurry.
He finished everything. Then reached for the container with the picked-out vegetables.
Started eating those too. Slowly. Methodically. Like it was a chore.
I watched him. Confused.
"I don't understand. Do you actually like them or not?"
He swallowed. Set down his fork.
"When I was a kid, celery made me gag. But my father had a rule: you finish what's on your plate. No exceptions."
Oh.
I thought about my own training. The instructors who forced you to adapt to things you hated. Build tolerance.
Damon's upbringing wasn't soft. He wasn't some spoiled rich kid.
He was trained. Just like I was. Different methods, same result.
He finished the last piece of carrot. Collected the empty containers. Walked to the small bar cart in the corner of his office.
Poured a glass of water. Brought it to me.
"Drink."
I took it. Sipped slowly.
He sat down on the leather couch. Patted the seat next to him.
"Come here."
I walked over. Sat down. Left some space between us.
He reached over. Pulled me closer. Until I was right next to him.
"How are you feeling? Any morning sickness yet?"
My hand moved to my stomach automatically. Still flat. No signs yet.
"Not yet. Nothing so far."
He glanced at his watch. Then at me.
"You should rest for a bit before you head out. Take a nap on the couch."
He started to take off his suit jacket. Like he was going to use it as a blanket.
"I can't. I have something at two."
His eyebrows furrowed. "You're not job hunting, are you?"
"No. I'll figure that out after I submit my college applications."
His expression changed. Concerned now.
"You're not seriously planning to go to college while pregnant, are you?"
"I'm finishing up my applications now. But regardless of where I get in, I'm requesting a one-year deferral. The baby comes first."
I've already finished most college-level coursework online anyway. College is just for maintaining my normal identity.
And this baby... this might be my only chance at having a family. The baby is more important.
Damon visibly relaxed. His shoulders dropped slightly.
He reached over. Ruffled my hair affectionately.
"Good girl."
Why does he keep petting my head like I'm a cat? It's weird.
But also... kind of nice.
"At least wait until the sun isn't as strong," he said. "It's scorching out there."
I looked at the windows. The afternoon sun was bright. Harsh.
"Okay. Just for a bit."
I curled up on the leather sofa. It was expensive. Incredibly comfortable.
Damon draped his suit jacket over me anyway.
I closed my eyes.
His office was quiet. I fell asleep in seconds.
I woke up to someone gently shaking my shoulder.
"Scarlett. It's one-ten."
I opened my eyes. Blinked.
Damon was standing over me. His reading glasses were gone. He'd rolled up his sleeves.
"You said you had something at two."
Right. Viviana.
I sat up. Rubbed my eyes. My hair was probably a mess.
"Thanks."
I stood. Folded his suit jacket carefully. Handed it back.
He took it. Watched me pack up the lunch containers.
"What's the two o'clock thing?"
"Just... meeting someone."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "Who?"
"Viviana Romano."
His jaw tightened. "Your mother."
"My former mother. Technically we're not related anymore. I severed ties, remember?"
"What does she want?"
"To return one of the gold coins I gave her."
Damon was quiet for a moment. His expression unreadable.
"Do you want me to come with you?"
"No. I can handle it."
"Scarlett—"
"I'll be fine. Really."
I zipped up the lunch bag. Slung it over my shoulder.
He moved toward the door. "I'll walk you down."
"No!"
Damon stopped. Looked at me.
"Why not?"
"I told the front desk I was household staff delivering lunch."
His eyebrows went up.
"If people see the CEO personally escorting me out... my cover as a normal person is completely blown."
"I'm just the help. Remember? That's the story."
Damon's expression shifted. Something flickered in his eyes.
"Arthur's already waiting in the lobby," I added quickly. "He's picking me up."
He stared at me for a long moment.
Then sighed. "Fine."
"Thank you."
I stepped out of Damon's office.
I was halfway to the elevator when I saw him.
Rocco.
Leaning against the wall. Holding a massive bouquet of red roses.