Just The Two Of Us
1121 Words
CHAPTER EIGHT
The dining table was set for two.
Just two.
No staff. No distant board members. No hidden eyes behind crystal glasses. Tonight, it wasn’t about status or strategy.
It was just Desmond and Eliana.
The room was softly lit with amber sconces, casting golden shadows along the walls. A fireplace glowed at the far end. In the center of the table, a single vase cradled white lilies. Simple. Pure.
Eliana stood at the entrance, dressed in a silky wine-colored dress that stopped just above her knees. It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t loud. But the moment she stepped in, Desmond looked up and lost his words.
“You look…” he started, then paused. “Beautiful.”
She raised a brow. “No snide comment? No backhanded compliment?”
“Not tonight.”
She took her seat slowly. “What’s special about tonight?”
“I said no masks.”
“So you did.” She unfolded her napkin with care. “Let’s see how well you do without yours.”
They ate slowly. The dishes were simple roasted sea bass, garlic potatoes, and a light salad. Eliana noticed Desmond had chosen her favorites.
They talked, but not about the company or the war with his uncle.
They talked about little things.
Books they’d read. Music they used to like. The smell of rain. The worst street food they ever had. Childhood memories buried under pain and time.
Desmond told her about his mother a soft-spoken woman who died too young. How she used to leave notes in his lunchbox, even when he was a teenager.
“I used to get mad about it,” he said with a half-laugh. “Thought it made me look soft. Now I wish I kept them.”
Eliana smiled faintly. “My mom died when I was six. I barely remember her face. Just her voice. Like a lullaby I can’t hum anymore.”
There was a silence after that. Not uncomfortable.
Just honest.
After dinner, Desmond poured them wine and led her to the lounge, where the fire crackled gently.
They sat on the sofa, not touching, not leaning. Just… close.
“So,” she said, swirling the wine in her glass. “What changed?”
He glanced at her. “What do you mean?”
“You’re suddenly softer. Talking more. Smiling a little. You even let me walk into your war room.”
Desmond chuckled, low and deep. “You earned that.”
“I didn’t earn it. I took it.”
“Exactly.”
Eliana set her glass down and faced him. “Be honest, Desmond. Why me? And this time, no business excuses.”
He didn’t answer right away.
Then he said, “Because you reminded me of something I forgot existed.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Hope.”
She stared at him.
“That day at the auction,” he continued, “you didn’t cry. You didn’t beg. You stood there with your chin up, even when you were terrified. You looked like everything in your life had broken… but you refused to shatter.”
Eliana swallowed hard.
“And I thought,” he went on, “if someone like you still has fire left… maybe I do too.”
The room felt heavier now.
Or maybe it was lighter.
“I thought you were cold,” she whispered. “Emotionless. Just another rich man playing games.”
“I am,” he said. “But with you… it’s not a game anymore.”
Her chest rose and fell slowly. “You hurt me.”
“I know.”
“You studied me. You planned everything.”
“I know that too.”
She stood then, walked to the fire, back facing him. “You don’t get to just say these things and expect it to fix everything.”
“I don’t expect anything.”
Eliana turned back. “Then why this dinner?”
Desmond stood too. Walked toward her.
Stopped inches away.
“Because I wanted to be a man for once,” he said. “Not a weapon. Not a CEO. Just a man… asking the woman who keeps saving him to let him try.”
Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. She hated that he could still make her feel something.
But he wasn’t finished.
“I can’t undo what I did,” he said. “But I can start again. With truth. With respect.”
“With love?” she asked, almost mockingly.
He paused. “Maybe. If you let me.”
A long silence stretched between them.
Then finally Eliana spoke.
“I don’t trust you.”
He nodded.
“But,” she continued, “I believe you want to be better.”
“I do.”
“And I believe you see me now. Not just as a shield or a pawn. But as a person.”
“I do.”
She took a breath. “Then maybe we can start again.”
Desmond looked at her. “From the beginning?”
“No.” She stepped even closer. “From here. From this fire. From tonight.”
Their eyes met.
And slowly tentatively Desmond reached out and cupped her face.
She didn’t pull away.
She didn’t flinch.
And when he leaned in, their lips met—softly at first, then deeper. The kiss wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t wild.
It was steady.
Grounded.
Two broken people kissing not to forget the past, but to mark a new beginning.
When they parted, Desmond pressed his forehead to hers.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“For what?” she asked.
“For not giving up on me.”
Eliana smiled faintly. “Don’t make me regret it.”
“I won’t.”
Later, Desmond walked her to her room again.
But this time, when she turned to go inside, he didn’t step back.
She opened the door and looked at him.
He hesitated.
Then she said, “You can stay.”
They didn’t sleep together.
Not in that way.
They lay under the sheets, fully clothed, her head on his chest, his arm wrapped protectively around her.
It was quiet.
Safe.
Warm.
She heard his heartbeat, steady and real.
And for the first time since the day she was sold, Eliana felt like a woman—not a product.
Not a tool.
Not a victim.
Just a woman in the arms of a man who finally saw her.
In the early hours of the morning, when the world outside was still and the fire in her heart had settled, Desmond whispered, “We’ll win this war.”
And Eliana, eyes half-closed, replied, “We’ll win it together.”
- Writer
