Chapter 85: A Table for Two-2
“Go,” she said softly, her voice brimming with affection. “Go tell your man how much you love him.”
Maya gave a shy, almost teary smile.
But Harper wasn’t done.
She grinned suddenly, wicked twinkle returning to her eyes. “Oh-and if it gets steamy…” she wiggled her brows and leaned in like she was about to reveal a state secret, “just listen to your body, babe.”
Then she winked.
Maya groaned, half-laughing as she turned toward the door. “You’re impossible.”
Harper’s voice followed her with a dramatic flourish. “And yet-you love me!”
Maya stepped out, the soft soles of her shoes brushing gently against the polished floor as she walked the short distance to Damien’s suite. The hallway was quiet, shadows stretching long beneath the warm sconces. James stood just outside the door, straight-backed and composed as always.
He turned as she approached. “You ready, Ms. Maya?” he asked gently.
Maya let out a slow breath and gave a small, nervous smile. She wiped her slightly clammy hands along the sides of her dress. “I’m ready.”
James nodded once and stepped aside, opening the door with quiet precision.
Maya stepped through. Her pulse quickened.
As soon as she crossed the threshold, James closed the door behind her-softly, respectfully -sealing her in with the silence.
The suite was dim, the only light coming from a pair of warm stand lamps and the soft flicker of candlelight casting golden halos in the dining space ahead. The air smelled faintly of the sea and something rich, buttery… familiar.
She walked slowly toward the dining area. There, waiting in the center of the room, was a
small round table dressed in crisp white linen. Two place settings. Candles glowing. A bottle of wine breathing quietly in a silver bucket.
Dinner for two.
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Chapter 85. A Table for Two-2
Earlier that day, when James mentioned Damien’s last call would end before eight, an idea had quietly bloomed in her chest. After everything that happened the night before-the tension, the way she responded to Damien’s words, and how deeply she knew she’d hurt him –she felt she had to make it right.
She remembered how Damien had originally meant for that dinner to be just for the two of them. But she’d blurted out an invitation to Harper-trying to soothe her nerves-and suddenly it had spiraled into a group affair. Laughter, tension, wine… but none of the quiet intimacy he’d clearly intended.
So tonight, she wanted to give that back to him.
She’d asked James for something simple-but meaningful-and he’d delivered, down to every last detail.
The prawns, for instance. She’d only learned a few days ago, during lunch, that Damien used to love them… but stopped eating them simply because he hated peeling them. So she asked James to serve them anyway-because tonight, she’d be more than happy to peel them for hi
And then there was the dessert. Blueberry cheesecake. She hadn’t even known it was his favorite until James quietly mentioned it. He’d added it without her asking.
Not extravagant. Not loud. Just personal. Thoughtful. Intimate.
Just like she hoped tonight would be.
She stepped deeper into the space and slowly exhaled, smoothing her hands down her dress again as she glanced around the room.
Damien wasn’t here yet.
But everything else?
Everything was ready.
Then-
A soft click.
She froze.
The door to Damien’s bedroom creaked open.
He stepped out, fresh from the shower-dark hair still damp and tousled, water clinging to the ends before trailing lazy droplets down the side of his neck. A towel hung forgotten
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Chapter 85: A Table for Two-2
around his shoulders, the damp edges brushing against the lean muscle of his arms.
He wore a plain white round-neck T-shirt that clung lightly to his skin, still damp beneath the fabric, and a pair of low-slung black joggers that hung effortlessly on his hips. He looked devastatingly casual-unguarded, barefoot-and somehow even more dangerous because of
“James, make sure to send a copy of that contract by-” He stopped short, mid-sentence, eyes landing on her.
His steps halted, and for a heartbeat too long, neither of them moved.
Maya stood there by the candlelit table, framed in the soft gold glow. Her white dress fluttered lightly at the knees, delicate and feminine, her silhouette soft but sure. Her hair curled in gentle waves around her face, and there was a tremble in her shoulders-one she tried to hide as their eyes locked.
Damien blinked slowly. Once. Like he wasn’t sure if he was seeing her or imagining her.
“Maya…” he murmured, his voice low and rough at the edges, fraying like something unraveling inside him.
She smiled, barely-a curve of hope. “Hi.”
The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It pulsed between them, heavy with all the things unsaid. All the things they’d both carried from the night before.
His gaze traveled over her slowly-not with lust, but reverence. The ribbon straps on her shoulders. The exposed line of her collarbone. The careful way she’d dressed like she wanted him to see her, and only him.
He stepped closer, voice quiet but steady. “What… are you-what is this?”
Maya’s fingers curled tighter around the strap of her purse, and she forced herself to meet his eyes. “Dinner,” she said softly. “Just us.”
“I asked James to help,” she added quickly, searching his expression. “I told him to keep it quiet. Please… don’t blame him.”
His gaze flicked to the table-the candles flickering gently, the wine poured, steam still curling from the plated food. The kind of quiet, intimate scene he’d tried to create the night before.
And then back to her.
“I… I hope I’m not interrupting. I… I just wanted to give you what you planned for us,” she continued, voice low, almost breaking. “I know it was supposed to be just the two of us last
WE
4 Chapter 85: A Table for Twu ?
night. I know I ruined that.”
A flicker of something passed through his eyes. Pain, maybe. But also understanding.
Maya took a breath, pushing through the tightness in her throat. “I remembered how you loved prawns, but stopped eating them because you hate peeling.” Her smile was small, nervous. “I don’t mind. So I thought… I could do that for you. Again.”
Claim
Her voice dropped, more fragile now. “And the cheesecake. James said it’s your favorite.”
She took a step forward, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t do this out of guilt. I did it because I care about you.” Her throat worked around the lump rising. “I want you to see that.”
A breath trembled from her chest, and she glanced down-then back up again, eyes wide, hopeful, breaking. “Can we talk… please?”
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Cedella
Cedella is a passionate storyteller known for her bold romantic and spicy novels that keep readers hooked from the very first chapter. With a flair for crafting emotionally intense plots and unforgettable characters, she blends love, desire, and drama into every story she writes. Cedella’s storytelling style is immersive and addictive—perfect for fans of heated romances and heart-pounding twists.