Swipe left to continue >
103 The Missus’s Meal, The Husband’s Intrusion
103 The Missus’s Meal, The Husband’s Intrusion
She sighed. This was typical Damien–grand gestures that looked considerate to outsiders but meant nothing. No doubt Eleanor would hear about how thoughtful he’d been, sending dinner to his hardworking wife.
“I think we should wrap up for tonight,” Julian finally suggested, clearly sensing her discomfort. “We can continue this discussion tomorrow when everyone’s….less
distracted.”
“Alright,” she conceded. “Let’s reconvene tomorrow at nine.”
After exchanging goodbyes with her team, she closed the laptop and turned to face
Damien.
“She is still my wife,” Damien replied simply, his eyes on the flames.
That was impossible and they both knew it. His presence filled the room, demanding attention even in silence.
“The missus won’t be joining us,” he announced, taking his seat beside Vivienne. “Send up a selection of the barbecue, the grilled chicken, and some of that stew to her room.”
“Breakfast is at eight,” he said, his voice unexpectedly soft. “I’d like you to be there,
Elara.”
Her team was trying valiantly to focus on the meeting, but their eyes occasionally flicked to where they knew Damien was sitting just out of frame. The tension was palpable even through the video call
Upstairs, Elara had just opened her project files when a knock interrupted her. She opened the door to find a resort employee with a large cart full of cover dishes.
“Why are you in my room?” she demanded.
Elara wanted to protest, to insist they continue as planned, but she knew it was futile. Damien had effectively derailed her meeting just by being there.
“Enjoy your meal, Mrs. Thomme,” he said, leaving before she could correct him about her
name.
“Finishing my chicken,” he replied calmly. “Pretend I’m not here.”
103 The Missus’s Meal, The Husband’s Intrusion
The door to her room suddenly opened.
“Thank you for the food,” she said tightly. “I need to get back to my meeting now.”
Tomorrow would be breakfast. With Damien, Vivienne, and Cora playing happy family
while she sat on the sidelines.
Damien made his way back to the bonfire, his expression unreadable. Everyone looked up expectantly as he approached.
Damien shrugged. “She’s working.”
Damien walked in without knocking, his tall figure immediately demanding attention. Elara froze mid–sentence, acutely aware that her laptop camera was pointing directly at the doorway, broadcasting Damien’s entrance to her entire team.
He stepped closer, close enough that she could catch the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the smokiness from the bonfire.
She quickly adjusted her laptop, angling it away from the door, but the damage was done. Her team had seen Damien walk into her bedroom at 10:30 at night.
“I came to check if the food was to your satisfaction,” he said, his gaze moving over the half–empty dishes. “I see it was.”
Elara’s fingers curled into fists. This was deliberate–a power play to remind her that he could invade her space whenever he wanted. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her flustered.
As Julian shared his screen to show the updated code, Elara found hers… occasionally taking another bite of food. The meal was too good to let it go cold, even as she typed notes and offered feedback.
Her phone pinged with a notification. The video meeting with Julian and her team would start in fifteen minutes. She couldn’t let the food go to waste, so she sat down
and began to eat.
“I apologize,” she said, fighting to keep her voice professional. “Could you give me just a
moment?”
Cora beamed. “See? I told you she wouldn’t come.”
13.6K
103 The Missus’s Meal, The Husband’s Intrusion
“So I observe.” Damien picked up a piece of chicken from one of the plates and took a bite. “Don’t let me interrupt.”
Vivienne took a sip of her wine. It didn’t matter what he called Elara. After all, she was the one sitting beside him while Elara hid away in her room. That was what truly
counted.
She regretted the words immediately as Julian’s expression shifted to one of interest.
“Is she not feeling well?” Lucas asked, genuine concern in his voice.
Elara lifted the covers to find perfectly grilled chicken, tender barbecue ribs, Lucas’s famous stew, and several side dishes. It was enough food for three people.
Elara refused to back away, though every instinct told her to create distance. “Why? So you could disrupt my meeting and remind me that you still have a key to my room?”
Vivienne’s smile tightened at his use of “the missus.” A servant nodded and hurried off to fulfill Damien’s request.
“You could have called. Or texted. Or not checked at all.”
Of course it was. Elara stepped back, the spell broken. “You should go. She’s waiting for
you.”
Her words were appropriate, but the gleam in her eyes betrayed her satisfaction. She slid closer to Damien, placing her hand possessively on his arm.
The flavors were admittedly excellent. The stew was rich and hearty, the barbecue tender and smoky. Despite herself, she found she was hungrier than she’d realized.
Damien glanced at her laptop, seeming unbothered by the fact that he’d interrupted her meeting.
Then his phone buzzed, breaking the moment. He glanced at the screen.
“Are you hosting a dinner party without us?” he teased.
When she glanced up fifteen minutes later, he was still there, scrolling through his phone, apparently content to occupy her space indefinitely.
To show them all that Elara Vance couldn’t be intimidated by Damien Thorne anymore. Damien’s dark eyes held hers for a moment longer than necessary. “Of course.”
3/6
103 The Missus’s Meal, The Husband’s Intrusion
“As you can see, I’m in a meeting,” she said pointedly.
Damien slipped the phone back into his pocket without replying to the message. He moved toward the door but paused with his hand on the handle.
Elara sighed deeply. She should decline, protect herself from more pain. But a part of her–a stubborn, perhaps foolish part–wanted to show up, head held high.
“I didn’t order all this,” she said, confused.
“Elara?” Julian’s voice came through her speakers. “Who’s that?”
She forced herself back into professional mode, explaining the complex coding issue while acutely aware of Damien watching her from across the room. His presence was like a physical weight, making it difficult to concentrate.
Julian’s eyes were sharp with concern. “Everything okay?”
Instead of responding, Damien’s gaze traveled over her face with an intensity that made her skin tingle. For a moment, she thought he might say something more, something meaningful.
She turned back to the room, to the remnants of the meal he’d sent up and the empty chair where he’d sat watching her work. His presence lingered like a shadow, impossible to ignore.
“The missus,” she mused quietly so only he could hear. “Such an old–fashioned term.” “The language processing is still showing inconsistencies in complex emotional scenarios,” Elara explained, sharing her screen to demonstrate the problem. “See how it struggles with nuanced responses to grief combined with relief? We need-”
Elara was acutely aware of her team watching her muted conversation, their expressions ranging from confusion to curiosity. Julian looked particularly concerned.
Thankfully, Julian took the hint. “Of course. We’ve made significa predictive algorithm…”
rogress with the
Damien stood, his height making the room feel suddenly smaller. “We need to talk about tomorrow’s schedule. I wanted to ensure you were included in the morning
activities.”
“Did he now?” Julian leaned closer to his camera. “That’s quite the spread for one
103 The Missus’s Meal, The Husband’s Intrusion
person.”
She turned back to her laptop, unmuting herself. “Sorry for the interruption. Let’s
continue.”
Elara stared at the closed door, her mind racing with questions. What game was Damien playing? Why this sudden interest in her presence? And why did his invitation make her heart beat just a little faster, despite everything?
Elara stared at him in disbelief. “What are you doing?”
Two other team members joined the call, both raising eyebrows at her feast. She briefly explained and then steered the conversation firmly back to work.
The young man smiled politely. “Compliments of Mr. Thorne, ma’am. He insisted you have a selection from the bonfire.”
“It’s nothing,” Elara said firmly. “Just leftover from their bonfire. Can we focus on the project?”
But instead of leaving, he sat down in the armchair by the window, still eating the piece of chicken.
Before she could protest, he wheeled the cart into her room. The savory aromas made her stomach growl despite the pasta dish she’d already ordered.
“I don’t know what this is about,” she replied honestly. “And frankly, I don’t care. Please leave so I can prepare for bed.”
Something flickered in his eyes–amusement, perhaps, or something deeper. “Is that what you think this is about?”
“You could have texted me that information.”
Julian’s face appeared on screen, his eyebrows rising at the sight of the food spread behind her.
“Vivienne,” he said simply.
“That’s not an invitation to enter.”
Before she could respond, he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.
Elara felt her cheeks warm. “Damien had it sent up.”
5/0
103 The Missus’s Meal, The Husband’s Intrusion
Vivienne placed a gentle hand on Cora’s shoulder. “Your mother is just very busy with her important project, darling.”
“The door wasn’t locked,” he pointed out.
“Perhaps I wanted to deliver the message in person.”
“You knew I was in a meeting. You deliberately interrupted.”
She muted her microphone and turned to Damien, not bothering to hide her irritation.
Damien looked up from his phone, one eyebrow raised. “With what? The chicken was excellent, by the way.”
“Are you satisfied?” she asked coldly.
He moved further into the room, looking casually around as if he had every right to be there. “I was passing by.”
By the time her laptop chimed with the incoming video call, she had sampled most of the dishes. She quickly wiped her mouth and joined the meeting.
The meeting stretched past nine, then ten o’clock. Their progress was substantial–the Al response patterns were becoming more natural with each iteration.
“Fine,” Elara said firmly. “Now, about the emotional response patterns…”
Comment 0
Leave the first comment for this chapter.
Send Gift
Swipe left to continue >
