CHAPTER 68

Damien's POV

In front of the transparent door leading to the lovely fashion house, Bella's fashion house is plainly inscribed.

I feel satisfied within and have a strong want to chat with her.

Isn't it time I put my ego aside and give her a call? I won't deny that I still miss her after a week.

I miss her more just thinking about returning from work each day for the previous seven days to see someone missing to whom I am already used.

She has always been a nuisance to have around while I am eating, sleeping, or bathing, but nowadays days I don't even mind going to the toilet while wearing a towel around my body.

I didn't give her a call. On the day she came, I just texted her.

Even after anxiously anticipating her late-night response, I still couldn't bring myself to contact her.

Instead, I called Alejandro, who retaliated against me for not accompanying my wife. I was unable to inquire about Lisa out of concern for my reputation.

This present is here a month before our contract expires, but I've spent the last several days getting everything ready for her to return home to something as beautiful as this.

This is her dream, and I kept my self-promised promise. She assisted me in achieving my aims while I assisted her in realizing her ambitions.

She is deserving of everything.

She hasn't really said much to me about her aspirations to own a fashion company, but her eyes told me all I needed to know. She had always yearned for such a large company but lacked the resources to attempt it.

It gives me a grin. And pleased with myself.

I am really eager for her to show up. I was berating myself just yesterday for allowing her to remain there for two full weeks as opposed to simply giving her a week to return home.

If it were a week, she would have been home by now and I wouldn't feel this loneliness.

I am aware of the gap she has filled. She has only ever been a reliable friend, and I value that.

Helena has been beaming down at me whenever I dream about her, so ever since I told her about Helena, I seldom feel any remorse.

I didn't believe Lisa when she said Helena would want me to be happy once again because I thought Helena wouldn't be happy anytime she was and it would be unjust for me to be happy because I was the one who started it all.

But I'm perplexed by Helena's persistent grin, which contrasts with the early shouts and rage on her face.

I get the impression that Lisa could be correct and that I should be content once again.

I spin around with my arms in my pocket, taking note of the items still needed to complete the building's finishing touches, and then I return to the vehicle.

Everything has to be finished before she returns. I enter the vehicle once it opens. I see the building from the rear of the automobile as it is moving away in silence.

I made certain to choose a respectable structure close to our home. I don't know why I did it, but I know I didn't take into account the possibility that I would continue to see her after our divorce.

I just wanted to be able to visit her office whenever I got home early.

I keep quiet in the van with my back against the seat till we reach home as her thoughts linger in my head.

By this time of the night, I'm curious as to what she is doing. Is she seated at the table with Alejandro? Is Alejandro staying with her?

She is merely sleeping in a motel distance from Alejandro's rural house, which gives me some peace of mind that she could be a bit secure from his charm. I clearly instructed her to only stay in hotels.

Although I will confess that my ego is at play, it is quite difficult for me to resist picking up the phone and calling her six nights in a row to find out what she is doing and who she is spending the night with.

It would surprise or irritate Isabella. This is the reason I don't.

We aren't genuine, and when this whole charade is finished, she deserves a decent life. But I can't help but feel irritated every time I consider what led to her coming to Verona.

It makes me feel like a vengeful devil.

She is on the hunt for the real thing. Has she now discovered it?

The moment the vehicle is parked in the open garage, I get out of it. I have one goal in mind as I move toward the front door with Jude's help carrying the bag.

I'll be calling her tonight.

I really want to know how she is doing. I'm so eager to hear her voice. the kind, kind voice.

I suppose her compassion is why I miss her more. She sometimes makes me feel like a little kid.

Her constant 'Damien, are you ok?' makes me laugh. She never stops worrying or being concerned about me.

The two ladies at the door bend their heads in a courteous "Welcome, Master" greeting.

I only respond, "Good evening," continuing on my way to the stairwell leading to my room.

my vacant space. a space devoid of Lisa.

I up the stairs three at a time, reach the top in an instant and go with my briefcase firmly in hand to the bedroom door.

As soon as I reach the door and push it open, my eyes are drawn to the bed.

What did I anticipate? Is Lisa reading a book in bed a surprise?

In all honesty, I had hoped to run into her at the home. She wasn't here, which disappointed me since I was hoping she would show up ahead of schedule.

She is probably still in Verona, laughing with some Italian bastards.

I mutter a few expletives to myself as I take off my tie and get my phone out of my pocket to contact her.

To find out whether everything is well, I don't need to contact Alejandro tonight; instead, I should speak with Lisa personally.

She hasn't phoned me either, which is funny. She should have called me first to tell me about what she saw in the City and to inform me of her flight, right?

Her phone rings when I call it, but no one answers. I'm much more eager to hear her voice now.

Is everything okay? Is she alright? Why won't she answer the phone?

The phone number rings repeatedly when I call it again before going to voicemail. I swear out loud before calling her phone once again.

What the heck is going on? Should I contact Alejandro to see whether they are dating? Why isn't she taking up the phone, then, if they are together?

She answers the phone before the call gets to voicemail, which causes my breathing to become labored and causes a soothing chill to go down my spine.

She is being silent. She is instead laughing.

Is she making fun of me because my calls are clogging up her phone?

After she becomes sober, she randomly says "Hello" into the phone, and I get a shot of rage. Before saying anything, she pauses. The question "Oh, Goodness, Damien?"

I keep my mouth shut. Why is she behaving oddly? She must have seen my name on her screen. Is she making fun of me? Is she intoxicated?

While she is there enjoying herself and unaware of my constant stress, I'm here worrying myself to death and contacting her after an entire week.

With whom in the world is she out? Who is she laughing at so loudly? Is Alejandro here?

Looking up, I check the time. She ought to be back in her hotel room by now since it is now ten o'clock. She is missing. Is she still out or did she get a visitor at the hotel?

I clench my hand in rage.

The question "Damien, are you there?" She asks, but I'm unable to respond. Sorry, I didn't realize it was you. Before answering, I neglected to look at the caller ID.

I can't believe I really said what was going through my head, "And that is because you were laughing with some asshole to realize that."

She stays silent once again, and I regretfully bite my lip. Biting my lip makes me think about how she is there in everything I do or see.

I picked up the habit of biting my lip from her.

I apologize. I.."

I asked, "Where are you?" Instead, I shortened her.

Before realizing that she is whispering, I don't hear anything from the other side. The question "Romeo, where are we?"

What? Romeo? Exactly who is that?

I honestly don't know, Damien, but I'm already headed to the motel.

The question "Where is Alejandro?" My expression darkened as I became aware that, contrary to what I had assumed, she was not even with Alejandro.

If she were with Alejandro instead of some idiot Romeo who had the same name as the fictitious Romeo, I would genuinely feel relieved.

What on earth is that?

She seems terrible as she says, "He dropped me off at the hotel earlier and he said we would meet tomorrow."

"You were dropped off at the hotel by Alejandro, and you just informed me that you are en route there? Do you know of any locations in Italy?

I went out with a pal, despite what you may think.

The question "A friend?" I stop her before she can continue. Romeo, am I right?

"What? What made you aware of his name? She asks sternly, seeming startled that I am aware of his name given that her alleged whisper was audible to me.

Every second that goes by causes my rage to become more intense. at her composure. her tone, which betrays remorse. She lashes out at Romeo, the idiot she calls him, and at me, for being there while she is with some idiot she could later claim to have fallen in love with when she returns home.

Italian guys may be risky. Italy itself may be perilous in certain areas. She's not secure. I must visit there.

I spout forth without thinking first. I will be in Verona as soon as the daybreak. Before she can respond to the news, I say, "See you tomorrow," and end the conversation.

When I dropped the phone, I realized that I overprotected her and had just promised to board the earliest flight to Italy the following morning.

I suddenly get to my feet and punch the air in response to my choice. "F**k!"