Chapter Four: Eavesdrop and Strategize

The restaurant was nearly empty, save for a few lingering patrons quietly enjoying their meals. Sophie moved swiftly between tables, wiping them down and rearranging chairs. The scent of roasted coffee beans mixed with the faint aroma of grilled food lingered in the air. This was her second job, one she had reluctantly taken to make ends meet.

As she crouched to pick up a crumpled napkin, the small bell above the entrance jingled. Sophie looked up, and her stomach sank when she saw Damien Carrington striding in, his sharp navy suit looking as though it belonged in a high-end boardroom rather than her modest workplace.

"Are you stalking me?" Sophie asked, straightening up and folding her arms.

"Stalking you?" Damien replied, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "No. What gave you that idea?"

"The fact that I saw you two days in a row," Sophie shot back, narrowing her eyes.

"It could be a coincidence," Damien said, leaning casually against a nearby chair.

Sophie wasn't buying it. "Mrs. Hart told you where I was, didn't she?"

Damien chuckled softly, as if caught red-handed. "Don't be mad at her. I insisted."

"Of course, you did," Sophie muttered, brushing past him to wipe down another table.

He watched her for a moment before speaking again. "Please, allow me to buy you dinner. I promise I'll leave afterwards."

Sophie paused and raised a brow at him. "Okay."

"Okay?" Damien asked, looking genuinely surprised. "I was honestly expecting you to make me beg for hours before agreeing."

Sophie smirked. "I could still do that if that's what you want."

"No, no, no. That's alright," Damien said, quickly picking up a rag from a nearby cleaning cart. "Let me help you finish up so you'll be free sooner."

Sophie stared at him incredulously as he began wiping down a table. "Isn't this beneath you?"

"What do you mean? Cleaning is fun," Damien replied, his voice light and teasing.

"It's fun for you because you do it whenever you want," Sophie retorted. "Not for me. I do it whether I want to or not."

Damien stopped and looked at her thoughtfully. "So why do it at all? You should always follow your passion. I'm pretty sure no one has a passion for cleaning."

Sophie's expression darkened slightly. "Unfortunately, passion won't feed me. I couldn't finish my schooling because my dad died before I did. I had to drop out so my brother could finish his. So there was no medium for me to use to follow my passion."

As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. Her heart raced as she prayed Damien wouldn't connect the dots. Surely, he had destroyed too many families to remember the specifics of her father's case.

Damien's expression softened. "I'm sorry to hear that. It must've been tough."

"You have no idea," Sophie replied, her voice low and restrained.

"I agree," Damien said. "I can't even try to relate to how you're feeling. Is that why you ran away that night at the gala? Because something out there on the balcony reminded you of your dad?"

"You're never going to stop asking me why I ran off, are you?" Sophie said, throwing him an exasperated look.

"I'm not," Damien said with a small shrug. "So it's better if you just tell me."

"I already told you," Sophie replied. "I lost interest in you at the time."

Damien took a deliberate step closer, moving to the chair she was cleaning so he could stand beside her. "So how about now?"

Sophie hesitated before answering, her voice steady. "Still the same. No interest ignited in me just yet."

"I guess I'll just have to work harder to change that," Damien said, a playful glint in his eyes.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't," Sophie quipped.

"I was never too good at listening," Damien countered, grinning.

"Thanks for helping out," Sophie said, setting the rag down. "I'll be on my way home now."

"But you promised to have dinner with me," Damien reminded her.

Before Sophie could respond, Damien's phone buzzed loudly. He pulled it out of his pocket, his expression turning serious. "I'm sorry, I have to take this."

Damien stepped away, walking toward the corner of the restaurant. Sophie pretended to busy herself with a nearby table, discreetly inching closer to where he stood. She picked up a rag and began wiping the same spot over and over, her ears straining to catch snippets of his conversation.

His voice was low, but Sophie could make out a few words. "Yes… No, they can't know… I'll handle it… Not here. Too public."

Sophie's pulse quickened. Not here? Too public? This was no business meeting.

"I'm really sorry, but I have to go now," Damien said as he ended the call.

"It's fine," Sophie said, forcing a smile. "Have fun."

"Believe me," Damien replied with a faint smirk, "there's nothing fun about a meeting with old rich people."

"Aren't they your people?" Sophie asked, her tone slightly sarcastic.

"They wish," Damien said as he headed for the door. "I still owe you dinner. I'll come find you later."

"You really don't have to. I'll just order pizza," Sophie called after him.

The door closed behind Damien, and Sophie immediately pulled out her phone. She had recorded the tail end of his conversation. Playing it back, she listened carefully, her brow furrowing as she heard the faint but suspicious tone of his words.

It was clear: Damien Carrington was hiding something and she was going to find out what it was.