Chapter 32: Clara For Dinner [1]

The drive home was quiet, the only sound the low hum of the engine as Clara stole cold glances at Damian. Curiosity shadowed her expression, but beneath it lingered something deeper. Anxiety. She wanted him to cross boundaries without asking permission.

“You know you can just ask, rather than staring at me all night?”

Damian commented while driving, his eyes fixed firmly on the road ahead. She nodded, pondering for a moment before finally speaking.

“Are you a bad person?”

The question caught Damian off guard. He had expected something about his mysterious helper, or perhaps Hazel. He had not imagined she would choose something so simple, yet so heavy.

He did not rush to answer. Instead, he allowed his life to flicker before him. After being abandoned, he had tried hard to be polite and friendly with everyone. He helped people without expecting anything in return. He fought for pensioners. He played the good man well. If Hazel and these powers had never entered his life, he would have said yes without hesitation.

But the new him was wild and reckless. The man who once stood in court to protect the weak was now preparing to help a murderer walk free. Worse still, he intended to commit more crimes to ensure that outcome, and he did not feel a single ounce of guilt.

Many would say the power was changing him, but Damian was no hypocrite. This was who he was. The man who craved recognition and approval had been the mask. The real him had been waiting underneath, patient and hungry.

Perhaps that was why the sin of lust had chosen him out of billions. He had been the perfect vessel all along. He simply did not know it yet.

“No… No I’m not.”

He shot Clara a brief but meaningful look as he spoke. It was likely the most honest he would ever be with her about his true nature. The rest of his life would remain hidden until he decided she was someone meant to walk beside him in it.

“So what are we getting for dinner tonight?”

Clara paused, then smiled mischievously. “After our meeting with Twenty, I’m craving black food.”

“Ooh… that sounds a bit racist.” Damian’s smile widened. “Count me in.”

They picked up chicken, chips, salad, a pack of cigarettes, and beer before heading to Clara’s apartment. Unlike his neighborhood, hers was modest. Somewhere between rough and respectable. Her home was a simple one bedroom flat with a decent living area and tasteful decorations. Nothing extravagant, but warm enough to feel lived in.

“Welcome… to my place…” Clara avoided his gaze and dropped the food and beer on the center table.

“It’s really nice.” Damian settled on the other side of the table, offering the compliment easily.

They spread their case files across the desk. Clara continued stealing glances at him, the same anxious tension in her eyes. Damian did not need to look up to notice. His instincts were sharp now, as if he had developed sight behind his head.

The passive ability he once thought useless had become invaluable.

“Is stealing glances when you have a question a habit, or is it just limited to me?” he asked evenly, making her blush hard.

She quickly opened a can of beer and took a large gulp before answering.

“Well, you moved up our date, and then there was the ring incident. So I’m wondering if you really want to be here, or if I’m just a distraction…”

Damian lifted his head and studied her with a deep, steady gaze. After several seconds, he lowered his eyes and continued unpacking the food.

“Does it matter if I come to you anytime I need to be distracted?” he asked.

His voice was low and calm, not mocking or cruel. There was genuine curiosity in it. That alone forced Clara to think instead of reacting with hurt. Did it matter?

She knew he was married. Whatever existed between them would never rival what he shared with his beautiful wife. Still, she should feel honored that when he needed escape, he chose her first. His wife approved. There was no secrecy, no shame.

Truly, she had no reason to resent this arrangement.

“No… no, not really.” She smiled softly.

Only then did Damian raise his head again. In one smooth motion, he flicked three buttons loose, his shirt falling open to reveal his broad, well defined chest.

“Come over here, let’s share our first kiss.” He gestured for her to approach.

Without hesitation, Clara shoved everything aside and crawled around the table until she was inches from him.

His scent wrapped around her senses, rich and intoxicating. His smooth, warm skin made heat pool low in her body. Her knees weakened. Her breathing grew heavy. A strange weight pressed over her limbs, as though desire itself had mass.

How could she crave a man she had never kissed?

She had crushed on other men before. She had imagined moments, stolen fantasies. Yet she had always remained distant, too shy, too late. And never once had she felt this kind of pull. This felt urgent. Necessary. As if her world would collapse if she failed to claim him.

Unable to restrain herself, Clara threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips firmly against his. Her eyes widened in shock as a strange sweetness bloomed against her tongue, a flavor she had never tasted yet instantly needed more of.

Was this normal? Did lips always taste like this?

She had kissed before. Those moments had been pleasant, even exciting. But none had tasted sweet. None had felt addictive.

Or was it simply the hunger raging inside her?

Questions dissolved as she tightened her grip on the back of his head and deepened the kiss, her tongue moving eagerly against his. Thought no longer mattered. Doubt no longer mattered. All she wanted was more of him.

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