A ONE NIGHT STAND WITH DAMIEN SMITH のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 81 - チャプター 90

Back inside, Gina was the center of attention, her laughter ringing out as she mingled with guests. She noticed Damien’s absence but brushed it off. This was her night, and she wasn’t going to let anything ruin it. As the party began to wind down, Mr. Harold Smith took Damien aside. “Well done tonight,” he said, clapping a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Thanks,” Damien replied, his voice devoid of enthusiasm. Harold frowned. “Damien, this is bigger than you. The Smith and Wright families—this is legacy. Don’t lose sight of that.” “I haven’t,” Damien said, though the weight of his father’s expectations pressed heavier than ever. Meanwhile, Blaire sat in her apartment, her hands resting on her growing belly. She hadn’t seen any news about the engagement party. She kept thinking about Damien and she shook her head, chastising herself. “Get it together, Blaire,” she muttered. “He’s not your concern.” Yet, deep down, she couldn’t shake the feeling that their story wasn’t over.

Gina sat on the pristine white couch in the Smith family mansion, her perfectly manicured nails tapping impatiently against the armrest. She was draped in a silk robe, a cup of untouched herbal tea on the table in front of her. Across from her sat Jigme, her wedding planner, an unflappable man with a sharp eye for detail and an uncanny ability to turn chaos into elegance.“Gina, darling,” Jigme began, flipping through a thick leather-bound planner. “We’ve been over this. A winter wedding in the Alps would be the epitome of sophistication. Imagine it: white roses, snow-capped mountains, Damien in a tailored suit. It’s perfect.”Gina tilted her head, considering. “It does sound enchanting,” she admitted, her lips curling into a small smile. “But the guest list is becoming an issue. The press won’t stop pestering us for details, and Damien refuses to approve half the invitations I’ve sent his way. It’s like he’s not even interested.”Jigme raised an eyebrow but kept his tone neutral. “Me

Damien sat in his study, swirling a glass of whiskey as memories of Blaire’s reaction at the engagement party replayed in his mind. Her anger, her piercing words—they were etched into his thoughts. He tried to shake it off, but the more he thought about it, the more her emotions intrigued him."Why was she so furious?" he muttered to himself. A sly smile tugged at his lips. “Could it be that she actually cares?”He set the glass down, his mind spinning with possibilities. Blaire’s fiery response had left him curious and, deep down, a little hopeful. The idea of seeing her again crept into his thoughts, persistent and unrelenting."Maybe I should check on her," Damien thought aloud. The fight had been days ago, and he hadn’t seen her since. Before he could overthink it, he grabbed his car keys and headed out.When Damien arrived at Blaire’s modest home, he hesitated for a moment outside the door. The faint sound of laughter drifted through the window, and he felt a pang of something he

Blaire blinked, her cheeks flushing. “Jealousy? That’s ridiculous. Damien has no reason to be jealous.”Her mother, who had been silently observing the exchange from the dining table, chuckled softly. “Maria might be onto something, sweetheart. The way he looked at Fred… it wasn’t exactly friendly.”Blaire sighed, shaking her head. “You’re both reading too much into it. Damien and I aren’t—” She stopped herself, suddenly unsure of what to say.Maria leaned closer, her grin widening. “Aren’t what? Together? I know that. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have feelings for you.”“Feelings?” Blaire let out a dry laugh, though it sounded forced even to her ears. “Damien doesn’t have feelings for me. If anything, he’s probably regretting ever getting involved in my mess.”Maria tilted her head. “Is that what you think, or is that what you want to believe?”The room fell silent for a moment, save for the faint sound of the television in the background. Blaire stared at her hands, her mind swi

Rachel had just stepped out into the mansion’s sprawling garden after her call with Marcus. The air was crisp, and the scent of blooming flowers was carried by the evening breeze. She needed a moment to clear her mind, but as she walked toward the fountain in the centre of the garden, she noticed a familiar figure sitting on the stone ledge, his shoulders slumped.It was Damien.He stared at the rippling water, lost in thought, a glass of untouched whiskey in his hand. The golden hues of the setting sun reflected off his brooding expression. Rachel hesitated for a moment, then decided to approach him.“Damien?” she called softly.He glanced up, his usually sharp blue eyes clouded with something unreadable. “Rachel,” he said, his voice low. “What are you doing out here?”“I could ask you the same thing,” she said, sitting down beside him. “You look… troubled.”Damien let out a humourless chuckle. “That obvious, huh?”Rachel tilted her head, studying him. “You’re always so composed, Dam