HIS GRANDMOTHER'S FAVORITE GIRL ...
2493 Words
Damian Blackwood did not talk about Amara.
That was the first lie.
The second lie was that he did not think about her.
And the third—perhaps the most ridiculous—was that his grandparents had somehow discovered her existence without his involvement.
“You mentioned her twelve times during dinner last Sunday.”
Damian looked up from his laptop.
His grandmother sat opposite him in the Blackwood family dining room, looking far too pleased with herself.
“I did not.”
“You did.”
“I don't.”
His grandfather folded his newspaper.
“You do.”
Damian's eyes narrowed.
“Are the two of you finished?”
His grandmother smiled.
“Not until you bring her here.”
His expression immediately changed.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don't bring employees to family dinners.”
His grandfather raised an eyebrow.
“Then why do we know her brother's name?”
Damian froze.
His grandmother leaned forward.
“And why do we know she smiles when she's nervous?”
Damian stared at them.
His grandfather continued, “And that she drinks too much coffee.”
His grandmother nodded.
“And that she's terrible at taking care of herself when she's stressed.”
Damian closed his laptop.
“You've both lost your minds.”
His grandmother laughed.
“Bring her to dinner.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“It is.”
She crossed her arms.
“I'll invite her myself.”
Damian stood immediately.
“You don't have her number.”
His grandmother smiled.
That was the moment Damian knew he had made a mistake.
She looked far too pleased.
“You gave your assistant my contact information last week for the charity event.”
His jaw tightened.
“And?”
“And she's lovely.”
Damian stared.
“You called her?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To invite her to dinner.”
“No.”
His grandmother smiled.
“She already accepted.”
Damian went completely still.
His grandfather laughed.
His grandmother looked delighted.
Damian slowly picked up his phone.
AMARA: Your grandmother is amazing.
Another message arrived.
AMARA: Apparently, I'm having dinner with your family on Saturday.
Then another.
AMARA: Why didn't you tell me your grandmother is terrifying?
Damian stared at the messages.
Then typed.
DON'T GO.
Her reply arrived almost immediately.
Too late.
Damian's expression darkened.
AMARA.
What?
Cancel.
No.
He stared at the screen.
Why?
Her reply came:
Because your grandmother said you're much nicer around your family. I want to investigate.
Damian locked his phone.
His grandfather laughed again.
“You like her.”
“No.”
His grandmother smiled.
“Then why do you look nervous?”
Damian turned and walked out of the room.
“Saturday. Seven.”
His grandmother called after him.
“Wear something nice!”
“I always wear something nice!”
“Not that nice!”
---
Saturday arrived much faster than Damian wanted.
He spent the entire day working.
Then he spent another hour pretending he wasn't waiting.
At six forty-five, he stood near the entrance of the Blackwood estate.
At six fifty, he checked his watch.
At six fifty-five, he checked it again.
At six fifty-eight, his grandfather walked into the hallway.
“Waiting for someone?”
“No.”
His grandfather looked toward the clock.
“Of course.”
At exactly seven, a car stopped outside.
Damian immediately straightened.
His grandfather smiled.
“You're hopeless.”
“Go away.”
The door opened.
Amara stepped out.
And Damian forgot what he was going to say.
She wasn't dressed extravagantly.
That was the problem.
She wore a simple, elegant dress.
Her hair fell around her shoulders.
She smiled when she saw him.
And Damian felt something unfamiliar settle in his chest.
She looked—
Beautiful.
Too beautiful.
Dangerously beautiful.
Amara walked toward him.
“Hello.”
Damian blinked.
“Hi.”
She stared at him.
His grandfather appeared behind him.
Damian immediately frowned.
Amara's eyes widened.
“You said hi.”
“I did.”
“Without insulting me.”
“Don't push it.”
She laughed.
“There he is.”
Damian looked away.
Then noticed her expression change.
She was nervous.
Her fingers tightened slightly around her small purse.
He remembered.
She smiled when she was nervous.
Damian stepped closer.
“You don't have to be nervous.”
Amara looked at him.
“I know.”
“My grandmother likes you.”
“That makes me more nervous.”
“Why?”
“Because she could change her mind.”
Damian looked at her.
“She won't.”
The certainty in his voice surprised her.
“How do you know?”
He held her gaze.
“Because she already likes you more than she likes me.”
Amara burst out laughing.
Damian's expression softened.
Then his grandmother opened the front door.
“AMARA!”
Amara froze.
Damian muttered under his breath.
“Good luck.”
His grandmother rushed toward her.
Amara barely had time to react before the older woman pulled her into a warm embrace.
“You are beautiful!”
Amara laughed.
“Thank you!”
Damian stood behind them.
His grandmother turned.
“You didn't tell me she was this beautiful.”
Damian nearly choked.
“Grandmother.”
“What?”
Amara looked at him.
He looked away.
His grandfather appeared beside them.
“So this is Amara.”
Amara smiled.
“Hello, sir.”
“None of that. Call me Grandfather.”
Damian stared at him.
“You've known her for three minutes.”
His grandfather shrugged.
“She seems sensible.”
Amara smiled.
Damian looked offended.
“I am also sensible.”
Both grandparents looked at him.
“No.”
Amara laughed so hard she had to hold onto Damian's arm.
The moment her fingers touched him, she froze.
Damian did too.
His grandparents noticed.
Of course they noticed.
Amara slowly moved her hand away.
“Sorry.”
Damian looked at her.
“Don't.”
Her eyes lifted.
Neither spoke.
His grandmother suddenly clapped her hands.
“Dinner!”
The moment passed.
But it didn't disappear.
---
Dinner was worse than Damian expected.
Not because anything went wrong.
Because everything went too well.
Amara and his grandparents loved each other immediately.
His grandmother asked her questions.
Amara answered honestly.
His grandfather told old stories about Damian.
Amara enjoyed every single one.
“I was not a difficult child,” Damian insisted.
His grandfather laughed.
“You threatened to fire your private tutor when you were ten.”
Amara stared.
“Ten?”
“He was incompetent.”
“You were ten.”
“He was still incompetent.”
Amara laughed.
His grandmother shook her head.
“He hasn't changed.”
“Clearly.”
Damian looked at Amara.
“You're enjoying this.”
“Very much.”
His grandfather leaned forward.
“Ask her about you.”
Damian frowned.
“Don't.”
Amara's eyes lit up.
“Oh, I have questions.”
“No.”
“Too late.”
She turned to his grandparents.
“What was Damian like when he was younger?”
“Quiet,” his grandmother said.
“Rude,” his grandfather added.
“Grandfather.”
“Serious,” his grandmother continued.
“Terrifyingly serious,” his grandfather said.
Amara laughed.
“So absolutely nothing has changed.”
Damian leaned back.
“Are we finished discussing me?”
“No,” his grandmother replied.
Amara looked at him.
“You were always close to them?”
His expression softened.
“Yes.”
Something changed in the atmosphere.
His grandparents became quiet.
Amara noticed.
She didn't ask more questions.
She simply smiled softly.
Damian appreciated that.
More than she knew.
---
After dinner, Amara offered to help Damian's grandmother in the kitchen.
Damian immediately stood.
“No.”
Both women looked at him.
His grandmother frowned.
“What?”
“She doesn't need to work.”
Amara raised an eyebrow.
“I offered.”
“You're a guest.”
“I can still wash a plate.”
“No.”
His grandmother stared at him.
“Damian Blackwood, are you preventing someone from helping me in my own kitchen?”
“Yes.”
Amara laughed.
Damian looked at her.
“Sit down.”
She folded her arms.
“Are you ordering me around again?”
“Yes.”
“That's not going to work outside the office.”
His eyes narrowed.
“It works everywhere.”
Amara smiled.
“Absolutely not.”
His grandmother laughed.
Then gently pushed Damian toward the dining room.
“Go away.”
Damian stared.
His grandmother smiled.
“Go.”
Amara waved at him.
“Goodbye, boss.”
He left.
His grandmother turned toward Amara.
“He likes you.”
Amara nearly dropped a plate.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“No, he doesn't.”
His grandmother smiled.
“Darling, I've known Damian his entire life.”
Amara looked toward the door.
“He barely smiles.”
“Exactly.”
“And?”
“You make him smile.”
Amara's cheeks became warm.
“Sometimes.”
“That's more than most people get.”
Amara didn't know what to say.
Damian's grandmother leaned closer.
“He's difficult.”
Amara laughed.
“I noticed.”
“He can be selfish.”
“Definitely noticed.”
“He doesn't know how to talk about feelings.”
“That one I know.”
His grandmother smiled sadly.
“But underneath all that ice, he's a good boy.”
Amara looked toward the door again.
Her voice became quiet.
“I think I know.”
---
Later that evening, Amara stepped outside into the garden.
The night air was cool.
She needed a moment alone.
A few minutes later, she heard footsteps.
She didn't turn around.
“You follow all your guests into gardens?”
“No.”
“Just me?”
Damian stopped beside her.
“Yes.”
Amara looked at him.
His expression remained serious.
She smiled.
“You're very strange.”
“So I've been told.”
They stood quietly.
The garden was peaceful.
Nothing like the city.
Nothing like Blackwood Holdings.
Amara looked toward the house.
“Your family is lovely.”
“I know.”
“They love you.”
He said nothing.
“You know that too?”
“Yes.”
Amara looked at him.
“You're lucky.”
Damian's eyes moved toward her.
“You had parents who loved you too.”
Her smile faded slightly.
“Had.”
The word hung between them.
Damian understood.
“I miss mine sometimes,” she whispered.
His face changed.
“Me too.”
Their eyes met.
The silence became softer.
Less uncomfortable.
More intimate.
Amara looked at the flowers.
“You're different here.”
Damian frowned.
“How?”
“You don't look angry.”
“I don't always look angry.”
She smiled.
“Yes, you do.”
He almost smiled.
She noticed.
“There.”
“What?”
“Again.”
“What?”
“That almost-smile.”
“I didn't.”
“You did.”
“No.”
“You're terrible at lying.”
Damian turned toward her fully.
“Amara.”
“Yes?”
His voice became quieter.
“I like having you here.”
She froze.
The words came so unexpectedly that for a moment, neither of them knew what to do.
Damian seemed to realize what he had said.
His jaw tightened.
Amara slowly smiled.
“You do?”
He looked away.
“I didn't say that.”
“Yes, you did.”
“No.”
“You literally just—”
“Forget it.”
Amara laughed softly.
“I don't think I can.”
Damian's eyes returned to hers.
Something changed.
The laughter faded.
Amara suddenly became aware of how close they were.
One step.
Maybe less.
Damian's gaze moved across her face.
She stopped breathing for a moment.
He looked at her lips.
Then immediately looked away.
Amara's heart raced.
“Damian?”
His jaw tightened.
“What?”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“You don't look okay.”
“I am.”
“You look like you're about to argue with yourself.”
“I am.”
She laughed.
And that broke the tension.
But only slightly.
Damian stepped back.
“It's late.”
Amara nodded.
“Yes.”
“I'll take you home.”
“You don't have to.”
“I know.”
She smiled.
“Then why?”
He looked at her.
Neither of them moved.
Then he said quietly—
“Because I want to.”
Amara felt her heart stumble.
She looked away.
“Okay.”
---
The drive home was unusually quiet.
Amara sat beside Damian in the back seat.
She kept thinking about the garden.
About the way he had looked at her.
About the words.
I like having you here.
She turned toward him.
Damian was staring out the window.
“Damian?”
“What?”
“Your grandmother likes me.”
“I know.”
“Your grandfather likes me too.”
“I know.”
She smiled.
“Are you jealous?”
He turned toward her.
“Of my grandparents?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“You're lying.”
“I don't lie.”
She laughed.
“You do.”
Damian looked away.
“Go to sleep.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“I'm thinking.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
Amara gasped.
“Wow.”
He almost smiled.
Again.
She noticed.
He knew she noticed.
Neither mentioned it.
When the car arrived outside her apartment, Amara reached for the door.
“Thank you for tonight.”
Damian nodded.
She hesitated.
Then leaned closer.
“Goodnight.”
His eyes moved toward her.
“Goodnight.”
She stepped out.
Before closing the door, she looked back.
“Damian?”
“What?”
She smiled.
“I like having you here too.”
Then she closed the door.
Damian sat completely still.
The car drove away.
He stared out the window.
For the first time in years, Damian Blackwood didn't want to return to his silent penthouse.
He wanted to turn the car around.
He wanted to see Amara again.
He wanted to ask what exactly she had meant.
But he didn't.
Because Damian Blackwood was good at business.
Good at control.
Good at winning.
But when it came to Amara Cole—
He had absolutely no idea what he was doing.
And somewhere upstairs, Amara stood behind her apartment window, watching his car disappear.
Smiling.
While wondering the exact same thing.Would you like Chapter Nine next? That can move into the point where Elias asks Amara out properly again, Damian finds out, and his jealousy finally begins to spiral into a confrontation.
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