Chapter 329: I Woke Up Sore As Hell and Now He Wants to Relocate Me

The first thing that hit me when I woke up was the sunlight sneaking through my curtains.

Then came the not-so-pleasant realization that my body had apparently staged a full-on revolt against me overnight and was ready to take me down legally.

I laid there perfectly still under the blanket, staring at the ceiling while trying to gauge the extent of the damage.

My back hurt, my legs felt like lead, and there was an odd soreness in muscles I didn’t even know could feel this way.

Somewhere beside me, the mattress shifted a bit, and I became acutely aware of a warm arm draped around my waist, the calming sound of Damien’s breathing against my neck, and the lingering scent of his cologne on the pillow, which seemed to have formed an alliance with the enemy.

Then it all came flooding back from last night.

Every detail rushed in like an intern finally allowed to present a PowerPoint.

The argument about Isabella, how Damien held me while I cried, the promises he whispered against my hair, and the passionate...ahem...activities that followed once we let go of our fears came back in sharp focus.

My cheeks flushed under the blanket when I remembered how hard I came last night, and I briefly entertained the ridiculous thought of changing my identity and moving to a place where nobody knew me.

I fucking squirted...oh my God!

But alas, I was a university lecturer, not a wizard, and my finances definitely didn’t allow for such reinvention.

I was still mulling over my financial limitations when another memory popped up, causing my eyes to fly open.

Come to the city with me.

Oh, no.

I turned my head slowly and Damien was awake.

Of course, he was awake. He’d spent four years becoming a powerful CEO and somehow retained the annoying ability to wake up before me, always looking effortlessly put together and making me feel like I had failed at being an adult.

He was propped up against the pillows, his tousled black hair barely visible above the blanket, and those icy blue eyes were focused on me, wearing an expression so soft that I immediately felt suspicious.

"Good morning, sunshine."

He grinned.

I kept glaring at him.

"What’s with the look?" he asked, amusement creeping into his voice.

"I’m trying to figure out if you’re real or just a really detailed hallucination brought on by how tired I am."

His smile widened. "Want me to prove I’m real?"

"No, thanks. I’m still working out a deal with my limbs."

He chuckled softly and leaned in to kiss my forehead. His hand moved gently through my hair, then rested against my cheek, and I despised how quickly that simple gesture made me want to throw all my sensible thoughts out the window.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

I thought about lying, but Damien could read me like a book, especially when I was blushing like a highschool girl. "Like I got hit by a fancy, expensive car."

"That’s very specific."

"Well, I live with you. I’ve grown fond of expensive things."

His eyebrows shot up. "Does that mean you had fun last night?"

I snatched the nearest pillow and shoved it against my face. "You’re a menace."

His laughter filled the room, warm and unfiltered, and despite my best efforts to maintain my sulking demeanor, I couldn’t help but smile into the pillow.

When I finally lowered it, he was still looking at me with that ridiculous expression, as if my mere existence had somehow made his morning better.

It was so unfair. I had missed this man for years, and now that he was back, he decided to catch up by being his charming, endearing, and downright insufferable self.

I shifted under the blanket and instantly regretted it, wincing in discomfort and Damien’s smile turned soft. "Easy there."

"I can move just fine."

"I didn’t say you couldn’t."

"Your face implied otherwise."

He chuckled and reached for a glass of water on the nightstand, handing it to me.

I took a few slow sips while he watched, making sure I drank enough, which was an attentive gesture that would’ve been sweet if I wasn’t already planning to hold last night against him for a while.

After I returned the glass, I noticed he was still watching me.

"What?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"Nothing."

"Damien."

He brushed a strand of hair from my forehead. "I’m just happy."

That simple statement took me by surprise. For a moment, I forgot about my sore muscles, the pillow I was plotting to use as a weapon, and how my boyfriend had somehow taken up the hobby of making my heart race like an infatuated teenager.

I really looked at him, and he genuinely seemed happy. It wasn’t the polished smile of a man posing for a photo, nor the restrained amusement he displayed at business meetings.

His happiness was softer, visible in his relaxed shoulders and the way his thumb traced casual circles on my cheek.

I reached for his hand.

"Me too," I admitted.

His fingers wrapped around mine, and for a moment, we just sat there holding hands under the blanket while the morning light slowly spread across the room, turning the dust in the air into something almost beautiful.

Then Damien spoke up. "About what I asked you last night."

I immediately shut my eyes.

Here it was. The reason I woke up feeling uneasy. The reason my brain had been trying to convince me it was all a fever dream.

I opened one eye. "Which part? You said a bunch of things last night, and some of them were said when I was in no fit state to conduct an interview."

His mouth twitched. "I meant what I said."

I stared at him. "You’re going to need to be more specific. You say a lot of things with alarming confidence."

"Come to the city with me."

I was frozen once again.

Damien didn’t look away or laugh; he showed no sign that he was about to clarify it was a silly suggestion made after an emotional evening.

Instead, he squeezed my hand gently. "Come back with me, Oliver. Live with me again."

I blinked several times.

Then I burst out laughing.

Not because it was funny but because my brain had clearly encountered an issue too big to handle and decided laughter was the best emergency response.

"You want me to move to the city?"

"Yes."

"With you?"

"That’s generally what ’with you’ implies."

I just stared at him.

He smiled and I pointed at him like he’d done something wrong. "Don’t get clever with me, asshole. I’m vulnerable right now!"

"I’ve noticed."

"You’re supposed to capitalize on my vulnerability by offering me breakfast, not trying to move my entire life before noon."

"I can offer you breakfast."

"That’s not the point."

"I can also order lunch."

"Damien!"

He laughed and pulled me closer, kissing my temple and resting his cheek on my hair for a moment.

"Think about it, sunshine. You don’t have to decide everything today. I just want you to consider coming with me when it’s time for me to head back."

I fell silent.

That was the thing about Damien. He could be infuriatingly smug one minute, then turn around and say something so gentle that it was impossible to stay annoyed with him.

And the truth, which I didn’t want to admit, was that I wanted to go.

The realization hit me so fast it was scary. I wanted to wake up next to him every morning, steal his clothes, whine about his cooking even when it was better than anything I or the nearest restaurant could whip up, and argue over the TV remote on what channel was better.

I wanted to be there when he got home from work, listen to him vent about people who needed a billionaire’s help to understand basic business concepts, and watch his expression soften when he realized he wasn’t coming back to an empty apartment anymore.

I wanted all of it.

But wanting something didn’t mean I could just toss everything else aside.

"My...my dad," I said quietly.

Damien nodded right away. "Of course."

"I can’t leave him alone here, he needs me."

"I wouldn’t ask you to."

I looked at him and he shifted to face me squarely, his expression serious now.

"We’ll figure out the arrangements together. Frank’s health comes first. I won’t ask you to leave him without proper support. If he wants to come with us, we’ll find a place that accommodates him comfortably. If he’d rather stay here, I’ll guarantee he has reliable care, regular medical appointments, and everything else he needs."

I swallowed. "You make that sound so easy."

"It won’t necessarily be easy. But it’s manageable."

"Damien, my dad isn’t just some piece of furniture you can move to a new place."

"I know that, Oliver." His voice was soft, without a hint of impatience. "I understand how much he means to you. I know how hard you’ve worked to care for him, and I’d never ask you to abandon that responsibility. I want you to come with me because I want a future with you, not because I want you to leave your family behind."

Something inside me relaxed. I had prepared for an argument about money, logistics, hospitals, and all sorts of obstacles, but he had already addressed the most critical one.