All Chapters of The chef and The charmer: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

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

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 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

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 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