Uninvited Guest

Naomi makes her way down the staircase, her eyes fixed on her wristwatch. Damon should be out by now, she didn't want to miss the opportunity of seeing him before leaving for work in the mornings..

She paused, her hand resting on the banister. Where is he?

Damon finally stepped out of the room, looking as handsome as ever. Naomi smiled as his gaze finally met hers, softening.

“Is everything okay?” He asked simply.

Naomi nodded. “I'm alright. Good morning husby.”

Damon exhales. “Stop calling me that.”

Naomi chuckled. “But you like it.”

Damon froze, shit! He smiled when she called him husby just now. He couldn't even deny it.

Before he could come up with an excuse, a knock came on the double doors. Damn's eyes went to the door in question; he wasn't expecting visitors. And Jordan was too much of a brat to place a knock on the door like a civilised person.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Damon asked and Naomi shook her head.

“Are you?” She asked.

“No.”

He never gets visitors. The only visits he gets are usually at his office but a guest at his house was rather strange and early in the morning too.

Damon gestures at Patrick to open the door which he did without hesitation.

Patrick opened the door and his posture became rigid. "Madam.” he said, his voice hinting at his shock.

Damon and Naomi make their way down the stairs as Patrick pulls the door aside hesitantly.

“Who is it?” Damon asked and froze as soon as he laid eyes on his guest.

Standing on the porch was Rosie, eyes fixed on her son in silence. She steps into the foyer, handing her bag over to Patrick dismissively.

“Good morning to you too.” Rosie said, hands neatly tucked in front of her.

Naomi glanced from Rosie to Damon in silence, she had to be his mother. Her features mirrored Damon’s own, from the shape of her face down to her nose.

Her gaze, just as piercing as his, swept past Damon and landed on Naomi, still halfway down the stairs.

"Does nobody know how to greet here?” Rosie asked, her voice firm and intimidating.

Damon exhaled. “You didn't tell me you were coming.” He replied with equal coldness.

“Is that all you have to say to your mother, Damon? After all this time?" She asked, shaking her head in disappointment.

Damon's jaw clenched. He was trying his best to control himself, to keep his anger under wraps.

"And who is this?" Rosie asked, eyes narrowing on Naomi.

Naomi swallowed as she made her last descent down the stairs to stand right next to Damon. The last thing she wanted was to be under her watchful gaze.

Something about it makes her uncomfortable.

"Mother, this is Naomi. My wife."

The words hung in the air, echoing in the foyer. Rosie's eyebrows rose slightly kike she had heard him wrong the first time. Married? When did that happen?

The surprise she had tried to conceal now manifested as a faint hardening around her mouth. Her eyes raked over Naomi again, a slow, deliberate look.

"Your… wife?" she managed, the two words left her lips like the smell of something pungent. "Since when, Damon?"

"For six years," Damon replied, his voice flat.

He stood rigidly, his eyes staring right back at Rosie without emotion. He wasn't going to elaborate, neither was he willing to give her any sort of explanation.

Naomi, feeling the tension in the air, extended a hand to Rosie.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Sinclair." Her voice was polite and calm.

At least she hoped she sounded calm.

Rosie ignored her outstretched hand. Her eyes remained fixed on Damon, a flicker of disappointment in their depths.

"Six years," she repeated, almost to herself.

Her gaze then swung back to Naomi, a cold, appraising look. "And you are…?"

"Naomi Pearl," Naomi clarified, withdrawing her hand immediately. "I'm the head of the design team at Daiz Architectures." She tried to offer a smile, but failed.

"Ah," his mother said, a hint of disdain in her voice. "An employee."

“Is that a problem?” Damon asked harshly. He didn't bother to sugarcoat his tone anymore.

Rosie gives Naomi another once over. “Not at all. You could have done better in my opinion.” She said with a smile.

"Rosie, why are you here?" Damon cuts in, his patience running thin now.

Rosie turned her full attention back to Damon, her posture stiff.

"Must I have a reason to visit my own son? Perhaps I simply wished to see you. Though it seems you've been rather busy." Her gaze flicked pointedly to Naomi. "Busy indeed."

"As you can see, I am," Damon said, his tone devoid of emotion. "Was there something urgent you needed to discuss?"

Naomi needed not to be told that Damon's relationship with his mother was quite twisted and she could totally see why. Damon might be an asshole sometimes but he was very different from Rosie.

His mother’s expression tightened further. "I merely wanted to check on you, Damon. Make sure you are doing well."

"I am doing well." Damon replied, his voice still flat, lacking any warmth. "As you can see. We were just leaving for work."

He gestured towards the door, a clear dismissal. "You can leave now."

Rosie's eyes flashed in anger but she took a deep breath, composing herself.

“Is that so? I should have planned my meeting better then.”

“I suppose so.” Damon said as he stepped forward, guiding her towards the front door.

As they reached the threshold, his mother paused, turning her head to look directly at Naomi, who stood silently in the foyer. "Girl," she said. "Since you're now a Sinclair, it's only fair that you pay us a visit at the family house.”

“No she's not!” Damon gritted.

“I wasn't talking to you boy! Let the girl speak!” Rosie snapped and her eyes went back to Naomi. “Are you coming?”

Naomi hesitated, eyes moving over to Damon who shook his head firmly. But she's his mother and she has every right to get to know her son's wife.

She met the older woman's gaze. "I would like that very much, Mrs. Sinclair" Naomi replied, her voice calm and steady. "Thank you for the invitation."

A subtle nod was Rosie's only response. Naomi avoided Damon's gaze, knowing his eyes were fixed on her intensely.

Rosie then turned, allowed Patrick to open the car door for her, and entered the waiting limousine. The tinted windows rolled up, and the vehicle purred away, disappearing down the long driveway.

Damon turned back to Naomi, his brows furrowed. “You should have said no.”

Naomi shrugs. “I mean, there's nothing wrong with going to your family house, is there? She just wants to get to know her daughter in law.”

“There's nothing ‘just’ about my mother, Naomi! She’s…” Damon went silent, his look of concern faded away almost instantly.

“You want to meet my family? Fine. Have it your way.”

He turned and headed straight to his car, settling in the passenger's seat before Patrick drove off.

Naomi stood there, watching the car leave. What was he so mad about? It was just a visit and somehow he got passed? What the hell could go wrong anyway?!