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chapter 5
Huling Na-update:
2025-02-19 07:43:44pov damien
The scent of expensive perfume clung to my sheets, mixing with the lingering traces of whiskey and something undeniably feminine. Sunlight sliced through the penthouse windows, casting golden streaks across the silk bedding.
Beside me, a warm body stirred.
"Mmm... don’t leave yet," a soft, sleepy voice murmured against my shoulder.
I smirked, tilting my head slightly to glance at the woman draped over me. Her red hair spilled over the pillow, a sharp contrast against my crisp white sheets. Legs as long as sin. Green eyes that had been hazy with pleasure the night before. I searched my memory for her name but came up empty. Not that it mattered. Names weren’t important in nights like these.
Carefully, I shifted out from under her arm and swung my legs over the side of the bed, rubbing the back of my neck. My head wasn’t pounding, but I could feel the weight of the previous night—cocktails, laughter, pleasure, detachment—all part of a well-rehearsed cycle.
"Where are you going?" she asked, her voice laced with drowsy seduction.
"Busy morning," I said, reaching for my watch on the nightstand—Rolex, platinum, engraved. 8:30 AM. Late. Again.
Her lips curved into a lazy smile. "Cancel."
I chuckled, fastening the watch around my wrist. "Tempting, sweetheart. But I’ve got a city to run."
Her fingers traced lazy circles on the sheet beside her. "We could have round two before breakfast."
I exhaled, standing. "I don’t do breakfast."
The truth was, I didn’t do mornings after. The script was always the same—pleasure, goodbyes, and then back to reality.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Chris.
I answered, already knowing his tone before he even spoke.
"You’re late, blackstone."
I smirked, rubbing a hand through my already-messy hair. "Tell me something new."
"You’re judging today, remember? The cooking contest? The one you agreed to weeks ago?" Chris sounded exasperated, which wasn’t unusual. "You can’t just show up looking like you rolled out of a bar."
"Not a bar. A bed. And I rolled out just fine."
"You—" He sighed. "Get your ass here."
"Relax, I’m on my way." I ended the call before he could continue his rant.
Behind me, the redhead stretched, the sheet slipping slightly. "Come back to bed, Damian."
I turned, offering a charming smile. "Rain check."
She pouted, but I was already moving, heading toward the shower. No attachments. No regrets. Just another night.
By the time I stepped into the elevator, dressed in a tailored navy suit and crisp white shirt, another familiar figure was waiting.
Brunette. Sultry eyes. From two nights ago.
She leaned against the elevator wall, wearing nothing but on a black dress with was incredibly short aand left nothing to the imagination. "Miss me?"
I smirked. "Didn’t realize you were still here."
She shrugged, playing with the hem of the dress fabric. "Thought I’d stick around. Thought you’d notice."
I exhaled, amused. "I don’t do repeats."
She pouted, but I could see the knowing glint in her eyes. They all knew the deal.
As the elevator doors slid open, I stepped out into the lobby where my Bentley was already waiting.
"Where to, Mr. blackstone?" my driver asked, opening the door.
I glanced at my phone. Chris’s frantic texts about the contest.
"The venue. Let’s get this over with."
By the time I arrived, the event was in full swing. The grand hall buzzed with energy—chefs in their pristine uniforms, judges and critics mingling, the scent of butter, herbs, and sizzling meat filling the air.
I walked in, adjusting my cufflinks, and immediately, eyes turned. It wasn’t just the wealth. It was the reputation. Damian blackstone—billionaire, playboy, untouchable.
Women whispered. Men took second glances. The usual.
Chris spotted me from across the venue, marching toward me like an overworked babysitter. "For once in your life, could you show up on time?"
I grinned. "Where’s the fun in that?"
Chris ran a hand over his face, looking as if he was contemplating murder. "This isn’t one of your late-night rendezvous, Damian. This is a prestigious event, and you’re supposed to look like you belong here."
"I do belong here. Just at my own pace."
"Your pace is a disaster."
I clapped a hand on his shoulder, amusement clear in my tone. "And yet, you keep inviting me to these things. Makes me wonder if you secretly enjoy the chaos."
Chris groaned. "Sometimes I think you exist just to test my patience. Come on, let’s get you introduced to the contestants before—"
Before he could respond, a woman walked up to him, exchanging a few words. I barely noticed her at first. Then she turned slightly, and my gaze caught hers—
Something shifted.
She was different.
There was no fluttering of lashes, no attempt to linger in my space. No intrigue.
she didn’t hesitate. Didn’t blink. Didn’t react.
Chris gestured toward me. "Evelyn, meet Damian blackstone—our esteemed judge, though he prefers to make an entrance rather than an appearance."
Evelyn.
She turned fully now, her posture relaxed, completely unimpressed.
It was a rare thing, that kind of indifference.
I tilted my head, intrigued. Who was she
I tilted my head, letting a slow, charming smile spread across my face. "Evelyn. A pleasure."
She nodded, her expression unreadable. "Mr. blackstone. I hope you take your duties seriously. Some of us have worked hard for this."
A challenge. I liked that.
"I always take pleasure seriously," I said smoothly, watching for a reaction.
She didn’t blink. "This isn’t about pleasure. It’s about skill. If you’re looking for something else, I suggest you find it elsewhere."
Chris coughed to hide a laugh. I just smiled, fascinated.
"Duly noted," I said, eyes lingering on her. "I look forward to seeing what you can do."
She didn’t linger, didn’t indulge me with a second glance. Instead, she turned, her focus sharp as she headed back toward the contestants.
I watched her go, intrigued.
Cold. Professional. Completely uninterested.
For the first time in a long time, I was intrigued for reasons that had nothing to do with conquest.
Who the hell was Evelyn, and why did I suddenly want to find out?
And more importantly—why did I suddenly care?
Kaugnay na kabanata
The chef and The charmer chapter 6
evelyn povMy hands trembled as I returned to my station, the pristine knives and fresh ingredients laid out before me suddenly feeling distant, irrelevant. The heat from the overhead lights pressed down, but it was nothing compared to the flush burning across my cheeks.Get it together. I exhaled sharply, wrapping my fingers around the cool steel handle of the chef’s knife. The weight grounded me, dragging me back into the present.But Damian Blackstone’s gaze lingered in my mind like the shadow of smoke—sharp, invasive, impossible to ignore. Just another obstacle. Another judge who had seen hundreds, maybe thousands, of competitors pass through this very station. He was nothing—he should be nothing.So why did his attention feel so heavy?I sliced through a ripe tomato, each cut clean and precise, despite the chaos churning beneath the surface. I shouldn’t care what he thought. I was here to win—not to unravel the enigma behind those dark, knowing eyes.My teeth clenched as I set th
Huling Na-update : 2025-03-01The chef and The charmer chapter 7
The door clicked shut behind me, the faint hum of the city seeping through the cracked window. The distant horns and muffled conversations from the streets below were familiar—white noise that usually soothed me after a long day. But they only seemed to amplify the storm churning beneath my ribs tonight.I carefully set my knives on the counter, the blades catching the dim glow from the kitchen light. My fingers lingered on the worn leather of the roll, tracing each handle like a ritual. The weight of the contest hung heavy in the room, pressing against my chest—one more night until everything was decided.One more night to prove I belonged.The memory of Damian Blackstone’s smirk flickered behind my eyes, sharp and intrusive. I could still hear his voice—smooth, low, laced with that effortless arrogance he wore like a second skin.““We’ll see about that.”I had replayed those words a hundred times on the walk home, each repetition digging deeper beneath my skin. He was testing me. Mea
Huling Na-update : 2025-03-04The chef and The charmer chapter 8
The steady clatter of knives against cutting boards echoed through the competition kitchen, a familiar rhythm that should have settled my nerves. Instead, every sharp tap grated against the edges of my fraying composure. My fingers tightened around the chef’s knife in my hand, its cool weight grounding me as I diced shallots with precision.Focus. Just focus.The rich aroma of butter warming in the pan curled around me—a scent that usually brought me comfort—but today it felt distant, dulled beneath the undercurrent of tension threading through the room. I didn’t need to glance over my shoulder to know eyes were on me. I could feel their weight pressing against my back, sharp whispers slicing through the low hum of the kitchen.“She’s got a direct line to the top, hasn’t she?”“Funny how someone always gets ahead when the head judge takes a liking.”I forced my hands to stay steady, the rhythmic chop of my knife never faltering. My heart hammered hard against my ribs, but I kept my fa
Huling Na-update : 2025-03-05The chef and The charmer chapter 9
The headlines were everywhere.I could feel them crawling under my skin, even when I wasn’t looking at my phone. They lingered in the air, carried by half-hidden smirks and the hushed way people suddenly fell silent when I walked into the room. Damian Blackstone’ Latest Conquest — the phrase had been splashed across every gossip column for the past hours, painting me into the perfect tabloid caricature. Not a chef. Not a finalist. Just the woman who had caught his eye.My stomach knotted as I leaned over the stainless steel counter, trying to steady my breath while my hands chopped onions into perfect, uniform slices. Focus. Keep your head down. Let the work drown out the noise.But the whispers never stopped.“So much for getting here by your own hard work.”The comment was thrown carelessly from the far end of the prep station — loud enough to be heard, quiet enough to pretend it wasn’t meant for me. I froze, the knife gripped tight in my fingers. My gaze flicked up just in time to
Huling Na-update : 2025-03-06The chef and The charmer chapter 10
After the whole fiasco that happen at kitchen station i know exactly where to find Damien. He’s sprawled in one of the leather chairs near the panel of judges, legs stretched out, looking like he owns the place. The dim light casts shadows across the sharp planes of his face, but the low murmur of his voice carries. Chris sits across from him, nodding along, though his eyes flick to me the second I enter. He senses it—the storm brewing beneath my skin.I hover near the doorway, ears pricked as Damian’s lazy drawl filters through the room.“Had to take care of something… or someone.” The smirk in his voice is unmistakable. “Night ran a little longer than expected.”My blood boils, hot and immediate. Another night, another meaningless conquest—like the whole world is a game he’s already figured out how to win.I step forward without thinking, pushing the door cutting through their conversation. Chris’s gaze darts between us, reading the tension in a heartbeat. He clears his throat and r
Huling Na-update : 2025-03-07The chef and The charmer chapter 11
I returned to my station just in time for the competition to officially begin. The tension from the confrontation with Damian still lingered under my skin, but I pushed it aside, locking it away where it couldn’t distract me. I had bigger things to focus on.The competition floor buzzed with nervous energy—chefs chopping, flames flickering, the rhythmic clatter of knives against cutting boards. This was my element. Here, I could drown out the world and lose myself in the precision of my craft.I kept my head down, meticulously slicing herbs, measuring ingredients, keeping every movement controlled and methodical. If I focused hard enough, I could almost convince myself that the weight pressing on my chest was just the pressure of the contest—not the ghost of Damian’s voice still rattling around in my head.By the time I plated my first dish and sent it off to the judges, the knot in my stomach had started to ease. I could breathe again. This—this was where I belonged. Not locked in so
Huling Na-update : 2025-03-08The chef and The charmer chapter 12
I barely had time to catch my breath when Chris found me in the hallway. My heart still drummed in my chest, the weight of disappointment heavier than the ache in my limbs. The sting of placing tired gnawed at me, a reminder that no matter how hard I pushed, it hadn’t been enough — not today.“Hey,” Chris’s voice cut through the noise in my head. His smile was cautious, like he wasn’t sure if it was the right moment. “You did great out there.”I forced a small smile, though it felt thin on my lips. “Thanks.”Chris stepped closer, his hands tucked in his jacket pockets. He shifted his weight from foot to foot,he seem to quite nervous. I figured the cameras weren’t around this time, so whatever he wanted to say must’ve been real.“Look… I wanted to apologize,” he started, his gaze flicking away before meeting mine again. “For the media mess… for how everything played out. You didn’t deserve that.”I blinked, caught off guard. I hadn’t realized how badly I needed to hear those words unti
Huling Na-update : 2025-03-08The chef and The charmer chapter 13
“Evelyn, baby… how are you holding up?” Her voice was warm, familiar—like a soothing balm on an open wound.Tears welled up before I could stop them. I let out a shaky breath, the disappointment crashing over me all at once. “I should’ve done better, Mama. Third place… it’s not enough. What if… what if I’m not good enough? What if I never make it?”There was a pause, then her soft chuckle. “Oh, sweetheart… you’ve come too far to give up now. You’re a fighter. You always have been. This is just one chapter—not the whole story. Remember how you used to sneak into the kitchen late at night, trying to perfect that lemon tart? You burned it three times before you got it right. But you never stopped trying.”A small smile tugged at my lips through the tears. “I almost set the curtains on fire that night.”She laughed, the sound wrapping around me like a warm hug. “Exactly. And look at you now. You made it to the finals. Not everyone can say that. Third place or not, you’re still one of the
Huling Na-update : 2025-03-09
Pinakabagong kabanata
The chef and The charmer chapter 39
The city was finally beginning to feel like home. It was strange how familiarity crept in—slowly at first, then all at once. The streets that once seemed too loud, too crowded, too impersonal, now carried a sense of routine. The bakery on the corner who bakes my favorite kind of cake and bread. The barista at my favorite cafe smiled at me like we shared an inside joke every time i get out of the penthouse and last but not the least the corner store where Damien buys me ice cream when we go out for a walk, it has starts to look like a routine for the both of us . The loneliness that once pressed against my ribs was easing, even if it wasn’t completely gone. But even in the midst of my quiet victories, there were moments when the past clawed its way back in, uninvited and unrelenting.Eric and Emma. Their names had lost the sting they once carried, but every now and then, a memory would resurface, raw and vivid. Betrayal had a way of branding itself into a person’s bones, and no amount
The chef and The charmer chapter 38
After my walk with Damian last night, something in me shifted. Lighter. Freer. As if the weight of pretending, of balancing the tightrope between what was real and what wasn’t, had finally eased just enough for me to breathe.For the first time since stepping into his world, I felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.That morning, as I moved around the penthouse kitchen, my phone buzzed with an email notification. I wiped my hands on a kitchen towel before picking it up, expecting another mundane message. But as soon as I saw the sender’s name, my breath hitched.From: Chef Alain DufortSubject: Private Catering RequestDear Miss Evelyn,I hope this email finds you well. I had the pleasure of watching you few months back at Cooking Contest, and your passion for food was truly inspiring. I am hosting a private birthday dinner for my daughter this Saturday and would love for you to handle the catering. It will be an intimate gathering of about twenty guests, and I trust your e
The chef and The charmer chapter 37
Evelyn POVDamian’s world is nothing like mine.I realize this the first moment I step into the kitchen—our kitchen, technically, since I live here now. A penthouse too grand, too extravagant for someone like me. Stainless steel appliances gleam under warm, recessed lighting. A marble island stretches across the center, as if it were made for casual morning coffee and whispered confessions. Every tool, every spice jar, every delicate crystal glass has a place. Everything is intentional. Thoughtful. Perfect.Unlike my life. Unlike me.I tighten my grip on the handle of my knife, grounding myself in the familiarity of the blade’s weight. Cooking has always been my solace, my anchor. No matter how chaotic things get, the act of preparing food—the slicing, the seasoning, the slow transformation of raw ingredients into something nourishing—keeps me steady. It keeps my heart from drifting toward dangerous waters.Because that’s what this is. Dangerous.I exhale slowly, pushing aside the uns
The chef and The charmer chapter 36
Damian’s POV – The morning light streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office, casting long shadows across the sleek, polished desk. I leaned back in my leather chair, the unopened letter resting on the surface in front of me like a loaded gun. I had barely slept. My mother’s words had carved their way into my mind, stirring memories I preferred buried.A sharp knock interrupted my thoughts.“Come in,” I called, straightening as Chris walked in.He looked like he had just downed a gallon of coffee—sharp suit, tired eyes. “What was so urgent that you dragged me in this early?” He dropped into the chair across from me, one brow raised. “Don’t tell me it’s about last night. You and Evelyn put on a good show.”I exhaled slowly, reaching for the letter and tossing it onto the desk. “Read it.”Chris picked it up, unfolding the expensive stationery. His expression shifted from mild curiosity to sharp focus as he scanned the words.“Damn,” he muttered under his breath. He lower
The chef and The charmer chapter 35
The next morning, I woke up alone in my room, the distant hum of the city filtering through the penthouse windows. Damian’s presence was nowhere to be felt—not that it ever was. We had separate rooms, separate lives, even if we were bound by this arrangement. Still, a faint trace of his cologne lingered in the air from when he had passed by my door last night. He was long gone. Again.Over the next week, a pattern emerged. Damian left early and returned late, his face drawn with exhaustion. He barely had time to eat, let alone talk. When he did speak, his words were brief, the sharpness of his usual charm dulled by whatever weight he was carrying.One evening, I was curled up on the couch when he finally came home, his tie loose, his sleeves rolled up. He looked exhausted, but still unfairly good. He sighed heavily as he dropped onto the couch beside me.“Long day?” I asked softly, studying him.He rubbed a hand down his face before leaning back against the cushions. “You could say th
The chef and The charmer chapter 34
The grand dining hall of Damian’s mother’s estate was as imposing as the woman herself. Crystal chandeliers cast an almost blinding glow over the long mahogany table, which was set with fine china and polished silverware. I smoothed down my white satin dress, feigning composure while internally bracing myself for the battle ahead.Damian’s mother sat at the head of the table, a perfect picture of cold elegance. Her eyes flickered to me, sharp and assessing, as if she were dissecting my very existence. I forced a polite smile, knowing she could see right through it.“So, Evelyn,” she began, her voice silky but laced with an unmistakable edge. “Tell me, where are you from?”“Cold Spring,” I replied evenly, keeping my tone polite but distant.Her perfectly arched brow lifted slightly. “Cold Spring? And your family? What do they do?”“Just regular civilians,” I said, holding my posture firm. “Nothing extravagant.”She hummed, taking a slow sip of her wine. “Interesting.” Her gaze lingered
The chef and The charmer chapter 33
Evelyn povThe scent of garlic and rosemary filled the kitchen as I stirred the pot, the warm aroma wrapping around me like a familiar embrace. The rhythmic chop of my knife against the cutting board echoed in the quiet space, a soothing sound after a long day of writing recipes and buy groceries.I glanced at the small folded note resting against the spice rack, the one Damien had left for me this morning. Just a simple, lazy scrawl of” heading to work “. Don’t burn the kitchen down while I’m gone. - D.” . A smile tugged at my lips before I shook my head, tucking the note into the pages of my recipe book.The front door creaked open, followed by the sound of keys dropping onto the console table. Heavy footsteps. A sigh.Damien.I kept my focus on the cutting board, but my ears picked up every small movement—the rustle of fabric as he loosened his tie, the low exhale of exhaustion. The air in the room shifted slightly, like it always did when he entered.“What’s for dinner?” His voice
The chef and The charmer chapter 32
Damien povI slipped into my car, the engine rumbling to life as I pulled out onto the main-slicked road. The meeting with the board of directors had ended over an hour ago, but their words still echoed in my head. The weight of the discussions pressed against my mind, but it wasn’t what made my chest tighten. That honor belonged to my mother. Her call had been cold and clipped, each syllable sharp as glass. She was back from France — when the hell had that happened? Of course, she didn’t bother to tell me. She never does. Everything with her is calculated. Controlled. Just like that house. Cold. Silent. Full of secrets.The drive to the family mansion stretched longer than I remembered. It stood like a ghost against the darkened sky, perched on its remote estate where the elite of New York hid behind their wealth. As the wrought iron gates creaked open tall and imposing, my tires crunched over the gravel driveway. I hadn’t set foot here since my father’s funeral.The mansion looms in
The chef and The charmer chapter 31
Damien povThe first rays of dawn barely painted the sky when my eyes snapped open. The penthouse was silent, save for the faint hum of the city below. For the first time in a long while, the weight of responsibility tugged me out of bed. After a year of avoiding everything, I was finally going back to work.The cold water hit my face like a slap, jolting me fully awake. I stared at my reflection, watching droplets slide down my face, catching on the faint scar on my temple — a souvenir from the accident. I barely recognized myself. Shaving, dressing, each motion felt mechanical. The tailored suit clung to my frame, the crispness of the fabric unfamiliar after months of living in loungewear. Still, the weight of it settled something in me. Damien Blackstone was back.As I sipped my coffee, I pulled out my phone and dialed Chris.“Well, well, look who finally remembered how to use a phone,” Chris teased.I smirked. “Don’t start. I need backup today. You in?”Chris sighed. “You sure you
