Apply ointment

Vespera didn't turn around as the steady footsteps approached, drawing closer until another figure appeared in the mirror—one that did not belong to her.

Damien placed a premium ointment gently on the vanity before speaking first. "Ms. Vespera, I sincerely apologize. My wife is pregnant, and the hormonal changes have made her temper a bit short. She's not usually like this." He patiently conveyed Elena's apology. "I'd like to apologize on her behalf."

Vespera lowered her eyes, her emotions unreadable. "There was no need for you to come in person, Mr. Damien. Given the generous compensation you've provided, I wouldn't easily consider leaving this job."

Damien chuckled lightly and leaned against the sofa, one foot resting on the ground while he casually crossed his arms. Then, in an offhand tone, he revealed his true purpose. "I also hope, Ms. Vespera, that you can keep this matter to yourself. After all, for families like ours, reputation is everything."

A sneer formed in Vespera's heart. Ah, Damien. So this is your real purpose. I never realized you loved this woman so much that you'd rather threaten others to protect her.

Then why haven't you recognized that she's a FRAUD?

A surge of nameless fury rose within her. Damien, Damien, my husband. The man I once loved so dearly. We walked together from our university days to the wedding altar. Seven years—SEVEN YEARS! And yet, you don't recognize me at all?

She met Damien's expectant yet firm gaze, and her decision was made. Since you're so determined to protect her, let's see just how much you truly love her.

Vespera picked up the ointment from the vanity with her right hand and casually placed it behind her back. Turning to face Damien, she said, "That will cost extra."

"What do you want?" he asked.

"What do I want?" Vespera elongated her words, repeating him playfully as she took slow, deliberate steps toward Damien. Then, she lightly placed the tip of her white high heel atop his polished, custom-made black leather shoe. "What do I want? Anything?"

She leaned in close, her lips almost grazing Damien's earlobe, her warm breath feathering against his skin. Damien frowned, feeling a slight discomfort. He turned his head to the side, restraining the impulse to push her away in favor of maintaining gentlemanly decorum. "Ms. Vespera, you're too close. Please step back."

"Mr. Damien, are you afraid of me?" she asked, sensing the slight unease in him.

"Ms. Vespera, I ask that you respect yourself. I am married, and I love my wife deeply."

His answer did not surprise her. Vespera took a small step back and lifted her gaze, her eyes now filled with feigned grievance. "And yet, I took a slap from your wife for nothing today."

With that, she brought the ointment from behind her back and dangled it in front of Damien's eyes, a sly glint in hers. "If you apply the ointment for me personally, I can forget this unpleasant incident."

She squeezed a small amount of the ointment onto his fingertip, then boldly took his hand, pressing it against her cheek—where the mark had long since faded.

Damien froze, allowing Vespera to manipulate his right hand. A strange sensation crept over him—Why does she feel so familiar, even though I've never met her before?

Vespera sighed dramatically, her voice tinged with amusement. "Mr. Damien, the ointment applied by your distinguished hands truly works wonders."