CHAPTER 11: A Private Dinner

It was exactly 5 p.m. when the designated driver arrived at the mansion. Aiden lingered at the door for a moment, feeling a strange mix of nerves and anticipation, before finally sliding into the plush leather interior of the car.

"Sir, we will be heading to the restaurant. Master Damien has reserved the entire venue," the driver informed him.

"Okay… no problem," Aiden replied, though his heart did a little somersault. He kept his eyes glued to his phone, trying to act like a private restaurant buyout was a totally normal occurrence for a student who usually lived on instant ramen and café leftovers.

When they arrived, Aiden’s cool exterior crumbled. The architecture was a stunning blend of traditional Japanese woodwork and modern glass. "Wow! This is beautiful! Look at those paintings," he exclaimed, snapping a few quick photos. He needed proof for Justine—and himself—that this wasn't just a vivid dream.

As he was led through the grand dining hall, he noticed the eerie silence. Apart from the neatly lined-up staff, the place was empty.

"Excuse me… where is everyone?" Aiden asked the hostess. "I mean, a place this beautiful should be packed with customers, right?"

"It is company policy not to discuss such matters, sir," she replied with a professional smile.

"Oh… okay then," he muttered, slightly deflated.

Suddenly, the hostess leaned closer, her professional mask slipping into a warm, conspiratorial grin. "But if you ask me, sir, I think he’s being very romantic. Booking the whole venue just for the two of you," she whispered.

"Ugh!" Aiden’s face went scarlet. "Romantic? No, no. I’m a guy. How can it be romantic to have dinner with another guy? Do I look that feminine to you?" He scoffed, walking faster to hide his embarrassment.

"I’m sorry, sir! I didn't mean to offend!" she apologized, scurrying after him.

They finally reached a secluded table overlooking a zen garden where Damien sat.

He was mid-FaceTime with a business partner, speaking fluent, sharp Japanese. Aiden sat opposite him, trying to look bored while secretly being impressed by the way Damien commanded the conversation.

"So, let’s end it here, Mr. Yakamora," Damien said, bowing slightly to the screen before ending the call.

"Well done, Mr. CEO," Aiden greeted casually, trying to play it cool.

"Hmmm," Damien nodded indifferently, though his eyes scanned Aiden’s face for a second longer than necessary.

The waitstaff began a synchronized service, laying out dishes that smelled of ginger, soy, and luxury. "Woah! They look so delicious!" Aiden whispered, his eyes sparkling.

"Have dinner with me before we go shopping," Damien instructed, his tone regaining that familiar icy edge.

"Hmph… like I said, I’m hungry, so don't think you're doing me a favor," Aiden poked his tongue out slightly.

"I don’t care. Just eat. I can’t guarantee you’ll get anything else tonight besides what I serve," Damien smirked.

"Ew! You sound so cheesy," Aiden laughed. "Fine, I’ll join you—just because you begged me." He didn't wait for a rebuttal, immediately piling his plate and digging in. He ate with the enthusiasm of a starving student, completely forgetting the "elegant" etiquette he’d practiced in his head.

"When did I beg you to eat?" Damien asked, watching him with an unreadable expression.

"Eh… #@#$$#$###…" Aiden mumbled, his cheeks stuffed with sushi.

"Don’t bother talking with your mouth full… just take it easy," Damien said.

Then, it happened. A faint, genuine smile broke across Damien's face—not the usual arrogant smirk, but something soft and real. Aiden stopped chewing, nearly choking on his water as he swallowed quickly.

"Ugh! You just smiled! I thought your facial muscles were paralyzed—you never smile!" Aiden chuckled, pointing a chopstick at him.

"When did I smile?" Damien denied instantly, his face snapping back into a cold mask.

Aiden paused, looking Damien straight in the eyes, and burst out laughing. "I can’t believe it! The great Damien Smith just lied! You totally smiled. It was a 100% genuine smile."

"I did no such thing. I was merely… hmmm…" Damien trailed off, looking annoyed that he'd been caught.

"Just keep eating; we don’t have all the time in the world," Aiden teased, feeling a strange victory.

Just then, the heavy doors of the restaurant creaked open. Sean walked in, looking tense. He bowed respectfully. "Sir!"

"Yes? What is it, Sean?" Damien asked, the warmth from the table evaporating instantly.

"Miss Jessica called," Sean reported.

Aiden watched closely as Damien’s expression shifted. His jaw tightened, and a shadow crossed his eyes that wasn't there before. Aiden’s fork paused. Who is Jessica? he wondered, a sudden, sharp pang of jealousy—or maybe just curiosity—stabbing at his chest.