CHAPTER 55
Damien's POV
When her body met mine and her arms tightly enveloped my head in an embrace, my breathing became labored.
Except on the day of our wedding, Lisa and I have never been so close before.
She quickly withdrew after seeing my motionless body and apologized. Since I left her in the kitchen to prepare dinner, I have been reflecting on what transpired between us, but I'm not sure what to make of it.
Aside from Helena, I've never paid attention to any other women.
She walks out of the kitchen with the meal and says, "Let's go and eat outside." I insisted that Madame Cassandra buy enough potatoes for me during yesterday's grocery run since I adore potatoes.
She is my housekeeper and typically comes every week to clean or whenever I need her to purchase for me in advance of my arrival.
Helena included, I've never visited here with anybody. After Helena passed away, I acquired this home, and I felt like it was smothering me to death.
I left the mansion down to this location since everything about it made me think of her. Purchasing this home served as my getaway from the reality of the tragedy I had experienced.
Prior to Lisa cooking with potatoes, I had planned to create potato pinwheels, but tomorrow I'll try something else.
The cuisine looks scrumptious, and I am eager to try it.
When you came to visit, you never ate out, right? I nod and get up from the chair as she glances down at me with interest.
"We can attempt it."
Yes, I did see two cane chairs outside. Are there any coffee tables or tiny stools nearby? She asks, and I nod while indicating the coffee table next to the television.
She grabs it. "Red wine would go well with this meal; do you have any?"
She hands me the table, which I grab and hold with my left hand while picking up the food tray with my other hand. The refrigerator holds one bottle of wine. Check."
A refrigerator? She displays amazement. "Why didn't I notice it?"
"Perhaps you need to examine the second door. I tell her I'll be waiting outside and go away.
I don't feel as thrilled to be here as I did while we were traveling. The thrill of bringing my fictitious wife, who has evolved into a friend over the days, was overpowering, but it has now subsided in light of what transpired between us earlier.
I'm not sure why she won't comment, but I have a feeling the embrace had more meaning. Before she could start to back away, I could feel her heartbeat.
As I go, I set the tray of food on the table and place the table between the two substantial cane seats. Just as she comes over with the cutlery, two glass cups, and a bottle of wine, I collapse into the first chair.
She squeals with delight, "I can't wait," as she pours some wine for her and me.
I wave the notion of anything that's upsetting me away on instinct so I can enjoy the meal. I take a drink of the wine and turn to face her so I may chop a portion of the golden-brown cooked potatoes with my cutlery.
I take a bite with my fork, and the flavor lingers strongly on my tongue. I groan with joy.
In contentment and pride, I nod.
I say as I take another mouthful, "This is delicious."
She grins with joy. "I prefer it with sauce."
"I'm certain it would taste delicious. The sharpness is extraordinary.
She expresses gratitude by saying, "Thank you," and we eat in quiet.
She eventually lifts her head and asks. What would you have prepared if you had been the cook for the evening?
I sigh. Actually, I had potatoes in mind.
"Wow, really?" you could exclaim. She downs the last of her wine in one swallow.
I nod.
"I was planning something else, but there was no chicken,"
"Yeah, everytime I'm here, I eat the strangest stuff. It's a chance for me to practice using my carefully developed recipes, but chicken is never available. I'll remember to bring some from town the next time we visit, however.
She lays down her cutlery and sags back in her chair before saying, "I would appreciate that." "The weather is wonderful. I adore the lake and wish I could go nearer to it.
I glance up and say, "I won't recommend that." It seems like rain will start to fall shortly.
Please move closer before it starts to rain. I'm curious as to how it feels.
"Lisa?" She pouts when I cut her off.
I've never seen a lake before, so please. Since this is my first visit, I would really want to provide a positive review of my stay here.
I groan and agree even though I don't like the notion. I chuckle as she leaps up and grabs me by the seat.
We both go in the direction of the lake, and when we get there, she kneel down and demands that I follow suit. She puts her hand into the water while keeping her eyes closed as I kneel down next to her.
Despite being unfamiliar with the area and far from her house, she seems unconcerned as I observe her. Unconsciously, I too dip my hand into the water, and I immediately feel chilly.
I take my hand away, but Isabella's hand is still in the water, spinning its fingers as she plays with it. A grin has now appeared on Isabella's face.
It rumbles overhead and begins to rain before I can tell her that our time is up and we should go back inside.
I quickly assist Lisa in getting back inside, saying urgently, "Lisa, let's get back inside."
Storms here can be pretty terrible, as I have seen firsthand. She clutches my hand as we sprint home without exchanging words.
Finding our way back is challenging because of the raindrops, but with repeated rubbing of my palm against my face and holding Lisa's hand firmly in mine, it becomes simple.
We are already drenched as we enter the home, and the rain has intensified.
Lisa observes the rain from inside while sniffing and her eyes are once again closed as I shut the door from behind.
I sighed as I suddenly realized we had left the plates outdoors. By tomorrow, everything will have vanished with the storm, and I am unable to go.
I am easily chilled.
I go to the bedroom and get a fresh set of t-shirts and jeans for myself without alerting Lisa.
I urge her to go inside, "I'll sleep on the sofa," and she spins around to face me directly.
When asked, "Sofa? Why?"
"There is just one bedroom; please use it, and I'll sleep here. Before she has a chance to object, I bid her goodnight.
Even if we share a bed at home, because we are here alone, it shouldn't be the same.
I have to share a bed with her at home, and I do it out of need. I just hope the storm clears up before tomorrow am so we can go home and I can start working then.
I slump to the couch and consider my abrupt decision to ignore her. I should probably just go to bed since I'm chilly and don't think talking about anything else would be a good idea. It is now beyond bedtime.
When Lisa remains silent, I am ready to look up to check whether she is still there when I hear her utter a low sound. The phrase "Good night."












