Faking it with Damian Black novel (Millie)

Chapter 8

-DAMIAN-

Sheer frustration pumped into my system. I had no plans to leave the mansion, but staying there became

impossible when Millicent admitted she didn’t remember most of what happened last night.

Why I am pis sed about that is beyond me. It shouldn’t bother me. In fact, I should be relieved only one

of us had a crystal memory of what truly transpired between us.

The things she revealed about her ex, her confessions of her feelings for me, and the things she’d

written in her diary. 1 shouldn’t feel guilty for knowing intimate details about her life. It’s not like I forced

her to spill her guts on me last night. But I do feel guilty. I can’t even look at her without thinking of those

things. How did I not notice that back in high school?

After twenty minutes of driving around town. I ended up at Lol ita’s. Stepping inside the diner was similar

to going back in the past. Apart from the fresh faces of the servers and the chick behind the register,

nothing has changed.

Chessboard-colored vinyl tiles catch the lights from the ceiling. Booths with worn-out red couches lined

the glass wall. Facing it was a long counter dotted with barstools. I had no doubt that if I’d inspect the far NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

thest booth from the entry. I’d find my name scribed on the edge of the wooden table.

Remembering how Mom gave me an earful that morning tugged the edge of my lips.

Mom was friends with L olita. She used to take me here every weekend for pancakes and wattles. They

have the best pancakes I’ve ever tasted. and L olita only serves real maple syrup since she was from

Saskatchewan.

“Are you waiting for someone?” The blond server in a pale blue uniform, a white apron wrapped around

her tiny waist. beamed brightly at me..

Apart from the three elderly men occupying the barstools, nursing their coffees, and reading today’s

paper, the breakfast house was mostly empty.

“No,” I said curtly, ignoring how she twirled the ends of her long ponytail. Sandy – the small rectangular

plate pinned to her uniform suggests was cute, but I was in no mood for flirting this morning.

I just need coffee and food.

-Sit wherever you feel, and I’ll bring you the menu,” she chirped, bouncing on her heels as she rounded

the counter. Giggles and hushed whispers greeted her when she reached the cluster of her co-workers

behind the counter.

I chose the corner booth, and like I assumed, my name was still engraved on the table, along with many

others. True to her words, Sandy was at my table with the menu before I plonked down on the couch.

“Are you new in town?” she inquired.

“No.” I kept my eyes on the laminated menu. Even the list hasn’t changed.

I haven’t been here since Mom passed, and being here pinched something in my chest.

“Yeah? I haven’t seen you around before. I would’ve remembered you.” I didn’t want to be rude, but I was

really in no mood for a chat, even for a friendly one.

Ready to give her my order so I could have my peace, a leggy brunette loomed over the table and slid to

the seat across from

minc.

Sonja.

I bit back the groan. How the f uck did she find me? Did she have me investigated? That’s the only

reasonable answer to my question.

“You ordered without me, Numylėtinis?” she asked in that s exy Lithuanian accent. The way she speaks

her native language

a M

does something to my c ock. It jerked in response. [darling]

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Sonja smiled sweetly, batting her impossibly long lashes as she plucked the menu from my hand. Today,

she wore a white tank, denim short shorts that emphasized her long tan legs, and a light orange kimono.

I struggled to keep my eyes above her shoulder. She wasn’t wearing a bra; those milky ti ts were

begging to be sucked.

She came here with intent. I hate that she knew how to tempt me, and I hate my body even more for

responding to her

teasing.

Sandy star-struck by Sonja’s beauty scrambled and pulled out a pad and pen from the pockets of her

apron as Sonja listed down her order.

What are you having?” Sonja leaned her elbows on the table; the low cut of her neckline showed enough

cleavage to have my d ick knocking on my pants,

I shouldn’t be lusting over. Everything about us was wrong, and it had to stop.

Sonja’s presence left a sour taste on my tongue, so I settled for coffee.

Once Sandy was out of earshot, Sonja parked her elbows on the table, giving me a perfect view of her ti

ts. A different kind of hunger blanketed my body. It would be so f ucking easy to quench this need. I could

take her to my car and f uck her brains out, or probably the bathroom. I remember how Sonja loved

having S** in public places. She gets so worked up at the idea of being caught.

“Damian….” She murmured. longing flashed in her eyes. I hate it when she looks at me like that. So

innocent, so beautiful, and so fragile. She had the face of an angel and transformed into a she-devil in

bed.

I maintain my blank expression. She cannot see how she’s affecting me, or she’ll continue pursuing me. I

shoot her a steaming glare. “How the f uck did you find me?”

Her eyes rounded as saucers, pressing a manicured hand on her chest, offended. “Why so hostile?

Aren’t you happy to see

me

I simpered at her nonchalance. As if having me investigated was not a breach of my privacy. I used to

admire Sonja’s tenacity, but she’s becoming a pain in my a ss. The girl couldn’t take no for an answer.

She sighed and jutted out her lower lip.

Those f ucking beautiful lips. F uck! I remember how they felt around my co ck, their softness as I slid in

and out of her wet mouth while I fist her dark silky curls..

1

She reached over the table, tracing my knuckles with her finger. Fire ignited where she touched me. My

jaw fluttered. I clenched my fists so tight that they turned white. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to

prove, D. We’ve been dating for a year, and you’re breaking up with me for no reason.”

Molten annoyance flowed through my veins. Dating? Breaking up? She speak as if she wasn’t f ucking

married.

Sandy came back with my coffee and Sonja’s cappuccino. Grateful for the distraction, I reached for my

drink and took a long as s sip, fighting hard to keep my anger at bay.

“I didn’t know you were from Roslin City. In fact, there’s a lot I didn’t know about you.” Her eyes were

questioning. She’d finally discovered that I am Erick Black’s only son, the heir to his billion dollar

company, the Black Holdings. “And that stunt with that blond? You want to make me jealous?” Sonja said

accusingly.

The thought of Millicent and I flashed in my mind. Last night, she was the sweetest seductress I had

come across with. I didn’t realize she was drunk as f uck until she posted a photo of us on her Instagram

account. “Well… It’s working,” Sonja sighed exasperatedly.

Her last statement caught my attention.

Sandy returned with Sonja’s orders. A plate of bunless bacon, egg and cheese, and blueberry muf fins.

A thoughtless lie slipped out of my mouth when we were alone again. “She’s my girlfriend.”

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Holding a fork and knife, Sonja’s hand stilled, mid-cutting her bacon, egg, and cheese. She kept her

gaze on the plate, but there was an evident tension on her shoulder that wasn’t there seconds ago.

“No, she’s not.” Her tone was b utcher knife sharp. “Don’t lie to me. You’re head over heels for me,

Damian. I know you.”

If claiming Millicent was my girlfriend got me this reaction from her, I might as well use this to my

advantage.

“Yes, she is,” I said, sipping my coffee, watching Sonja over the ceramic cup,

She took a forkful of her breakfast, stabbing me with her icy blue gaze. She chewed slowly as we

entered a glaring contest. It felt like I was under a high-end microscope’s scrutiny. Yeah? How long have

you been dating? She just broke up with her

fiance.”

Her knowledge of Millicent’s life was perturbing. I kept a stoic facade. “She did. And now we have a

chance to be together. She’s the reason I wanted to end things between us. My he dribbled like honey

from my mouth.

The pain that crossed Sonja’s pretty face snapped a heartstring. Despite our situation, I cared for her

more than she knew. I wish I didn’t, but I do.

She turned to the glass wall, blinking back the mist gathering on her eyelids. “You love me,” her probing

tone softened, ocean gaze sliding back to meet mine. The sadness blanketing them made my chest

tighten. “We wouldn’t last this long if you didn’t. What is it? Is it because of Silverio? I will divorce him if

that’s your issue.”

My molars ground. It hurts that the woman I loved only gave me this much attention when she realized I

was wealthier than her husband. “Souja, we’re over. If you’re going to file for divorce, do it for yourself,

not for me. I’ve got nothing to offer

you.”

A lone tear rolled down her cheeks. It pains me to see her so sad, but she needs to forget about me. I

shouldn’t have gotten involved with her in the first place.

Keeping a stony facade, I pulled out my waller and dropped a few twenties on the table, leaving a

shoulder-shuddering Sonja with her bacon, egg, and cheese, and mu ffins.

As I exited the diner, I had only one goal in my mind. I need to collect a favor.