+ + +
"Abigail?" Damien called out from the foyer. "A quick word please."
"Okay, one second!" She replied from the kitchen. She wiped her wet hands on the tea towel before holding the coffee pot by its handle and taking her mug of hot chocolate in her other hand. She blew the baby hairs away from her eyes and walked out of the kitchen with a bright smile. "Yes?"
Damien was scrolling through his phone as he waited for her to appear. He wore a steel grey suit with a dark plum-coloured tie, a colour combination Abigail had never thought of. He checked his watch before looking up at her.
"I have assigned you a personal driver. He's available on the weekdays. His number is on this card, so make sure to get it down. If you need a driver on the weekend, contact the same number and they'll arrange a substitute for you."
Abigail nodded and thanked him. She was used to having a personal driver back when she lived with her uncle, it made travelling easier. Not that she was expecting Damien to arrange one for her, but it was nice and thoughtful of him to do so.
Damien looked at her as if he wanted to say something else. Abigail smiled at him, but instead of voicing his thoughts, his face hardened before he gave her a small nod and walked toward the elevator.
"Wait!" Abigail took a few steps forward, following him. Her hold on the coffee pot shook slightly. "You're leaving?"
He pressed the elevator button. She received a weird look from him as he turned to face her. It was obvious he was leaving.
"But I made breakfast for the both of us." With the coffee pot in hand, she pointed at the dining table on the far side of the unit. The table was positioned perfectly as it overlooked the main wonders of the city and the morning sun seeped in to warm the seats. The soft glow reached the table at an angle that the hot steam from the food could be seen. "And I made you coffee," she offered.
His eyes followed her pointing arm. "I'm late." He stated, before the two dings on the elevator rung and the doors slid open. He stepped in and pressed the button to go down. He fixed his watch and kept his face stoic as the doors closed.
Her feet remained frozen to the ground as the small down arrow glowed beside the elevator buttons.
A small sigh escaped her lips, her efforts felt useless. Dragging her feet toward the dining table and placing the coffee pot and her mug on the table, she slumped into her seat. Earlier that morning, she made Belgian-style waffles and prepared a plum sauce and cream to go with them. And for the sake of having options, she also made a few poached eggs and some bacon, in case Damien preferred a savoury breakfast. He preferred neither.
Amongst the food displayed on the table, the two plates she laid out, one at the head of the table for Damien and another for herself on his right, remained empty and as clean as when they came out of the dishwasher.
Abigail blew her hot chocolate and took a small sip. She let out another sad sigh, pushed her hands against the table, and stood up. Her apatite was gone. It wasn't the first time Damien had avoided breakfast. In the two weeks, he had been home, he had avoided the breakfast she prepared six times. The other times, he had left for work before she had woken up.
She noticed that Damien started his day very early in the morning, but it wasn't a surprise; it was typical for a person like him. She also figured that he was on no one's schedule but his own; if he was late, then he was late and no one complained, and if he was early, it was because everyone else was late. Time revolved around him.
Simply put, he didn't want to eat breakfast with her.
Although they were doors apart, a conversation between the two barely lasted any longer than two minutes. Her keen questions were always met with short, blunt replies and a face that lacked any hint of interest. She was his wife, but she felt less than a roommate. At least most roommates acknowledge each other. She was just there.
But she never gave up. In a month, Damien had another business trip where he was scheduled to be gone for quite a while. With this, she made it her deadline to seize the awkward tension between them, but his rejections were proving it difficult to do so.
She picked up the plate of waffles and the unused cutlery from the table, deciding that she'd have the breakfast food as her lunch instead. She'd rather not eat than eat alone.
The elevator rang, snatching Abigail's attention. Her mind ran to the thought of Damien returning and joining breakfast. Instead, a tall man with shaggy blonde hair walked out.
He walked in carelessly, oblivious to Abigail being there. "Damien!" He yelled towards the stairs. He shouted Damien's name once again, "I need- What are you doing here?"
"C-Cameron?" She was surprised to see him. It felt like a weird crossover episode.
"What the fuck, this is weird." He took a few steps forward, "I don't know how, but if you broke in you need to leave now because, as much as I don't want to, I will have to call security on you."
Her eyes widened, "No, don't! I live here."
"You live here?"
Cameron looked at her with such shock that it was like she had grown another head.
She nodded and placed the plate of waffles back onto the table. It was making her arm ache. "H-how did you get in?"
"I'm family." He shrugged, flashing an identical key card. "Where's Damien?"
Brothers? She thought. But they didn't look alike at all.
"He just left, but I can give him a call and tell him that you're here," she suggested.
Cameron shook his head. "Don't bother, I tried but I think the bastards blocked me. Thanks anyway. I'll get going." He turned to leave but froze, "How do you live here?"
"What do you mean?"
"Damien doesn't live with anyone, so who are you to him?"
Abigail gulped, "His w-wife."
"Wife?!" Cameron exclaimed, eyes wide and ready to burst from their sockets. "Wife?!" He repeated it with just as much shock.
Abigail nodded, feeling awkward about the situation. It was uncomfortable to admit the wife title, it didn't suit her. She looked around her, trying to find an escape or a drastic change of topic. "Breakfast?"
At first, Cameron bombarded her with questions, to which she only replied with short answers or avoided overall. She wasn't too keen on talking about Damien, mostly because she was still a bit hurt from him avoiding her for breakfast. At some point, Cameron must've noticed her uneasiness and dropped his questions. He did ask about the untouched food on the table, Abigail briefly mentioned that Damien was late and in a rush and didn't have time to eat, which wasn't a total lie, but Cameron didn't have to know that.
About the waffles, he told her about one of his trips to Belgium, where he lost his friends after a long night of drinking and partying. He lost his phone that night but still found his way back to his hotel. However, the next morning he found himself strapped to the bed and an angry fat man yelling at him in Dutch. It turned out that he did enter the right hotel but not the right hotel room and ended up sharing a bed with a man who left the door open for his partner only to find a drunken Cameron snuggled beside him. Abigail choked on her food as he went into detail about the event; credit to him for being a great storyteller.
As they ate and spoke about their common interests, Cameron's stares at Abigail didn't go unnoticed. She knew he had thousands of questions about her and Damien and was finding it hard to comprehend the situation. But she was thankful that he just listened to her as she spoke and dropped his curiosity.
The elevator doors slid open, and Cameron hesitated and turned to Abigail. "How about tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow?"
He took a few steps toward her, "How about we go out for breakfast tomorrow?" Cameron looked visibly nervous, rubbing the back of his neck whilst his other arm swayed slightly. The elevator doors closed behind him.
Abigail smiled at him, "I would like that."
"Great!" His smile widened. "I'll take you to the best bagel shop in the country. It'll be fun, and you'll get to explore the city. I'll pick you up around the same time tomorrow?"
Abigail nodded, already excited for the next morning. They exchanged numbers, both naming each other with the first three letters of their names. Cameron pressed the elevator button again and the doors slid open. He walked in and pressed the button to the ground floor.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Abigail."
She waved as the doors closed, a smile cemented on her face.
+
Abigail heard Damien's office door close, followed by the jingling of keys as he locked it. She looked at herself in the mirror as his footsteps faded away. She wondered if he would even notice the empty dining table downstairs. Probably not, she thought, because it's not like he even notices me when I am there.
She woke up with a small smile that morning. She was excited to go outside and see what the city could offer. Her phone vibrated from her bedside table.
Cam: I'm outside, ready to go whenever you are.
Abi: Coming!
Cameron was parked outside the building and on the phone with someone. As she approached his car, he noticed her and ended the call. He opened the door for her from the inside and let her in.
"How are you? Excited, I hope." He said, pulling out of park and driving down the busy road. Abigail nodded and asked how far away the bagel shop was. "Like twenty minutes if there's no traffic," he replied before getting into a rant about how a cinnamon raisin bagel with garlic and herb cream cheese was the best bagel combination to ever exist and people were always too quick to judge before they've even tried it or have something medically wrong with their taste buds.
As they drove, Abigail's eyes wondered at the cute independent shops that crowded the streets. She wanted to visit each one and explore.
"We're here," Cameron announced, pulling into the parking lot, "Okay, the plan is we get the bagels and walk to the park, which is a five-minute walk away, how does that sound? There's a huge pond and swings there."
"Yes, let's do that," Abigail smiled and followed him into the shop.
Unsure of what to get, Cameron helped her choose and picked a breakfast bagel with avocado, egg, and bacon, and he bought his usual- cinnamon raisin bagel with garlic and herb cream cheese. He suggested halving them so she could try the best of both worlds.
They walked to the park and sat on a bench by the pond. The pond was huge. It was basically a lake that harboured many ducks and swans that would chase anyone that had bread on them.
"Careful the ducks here aren't quite forgiving, so make sure you eat fast before they eat it for you," Cameron chuckled as they watched a small child holding a bag of breadcrumbs and running away from the birds that followed. "But isn't this the best thing ever," he commented, taking a big bite out of his bagel. She was slightly concerned with the possibility of him choking but thought she should probably do the same for the birds who came after her for being a slow eater.
"Look, I know you don't want me to bring it up," Cameron wiped his mouth with a napkin after devouring one half of his bagel, "but I know that it was arranged." Abigail gaped at him as he continued, "I know Damien. He isn't one to settle, especially now where his work is his priority."
Her mouth clamped shut, unsure of what to say.
"I saw the contract months ago on his table. I just never thought it would be you." His eyes held sympathy, a look that she disliked, reminding her of her misfortune.
"So everyone saw the contact before me." She mumbled.
"You didn't know?"
Cameron cursed as Abigail shook her head. "I'm not allowed to talk about it."
"You had to sign an NDA," he nodded. "I understand."
"What's an NDA?"
"You don't know what an NDA is?" He looked at her, astonished. It was a common contract thrown around by people of their class and social status. Money opens a gateway for people to explore their most outlandish desires and demands, and the only way to protect their image is through NDAs. "An NDA is a Non-Disclosure Agreement. It's a contract that basically allows secrets to stay hidden and is protected by law."
Abigail covered her mouth, "So I can't talk about it by law? Am I going to get arrested?"
"No, no. You haven't told me anything about it, I knew of it already, so don't worry."
Abigail nodded. Cameron took a big bite of his bagel. They both sat in silence, listening to the hectic quacks of the ducks as they dived and landed on the water after their brief flight.
A couple walked past them before Cameron spoke up, "What's it like being married to Damien?"
Abigail thought about it for a second, then said, "He's very cold."
"I expected nothing less," he said, reaching for the paper bag that had their rubbish in it and throwing it in the bin next to them. "He's the most selfish man I know."
"I thought differently." Cameron looked at her bewildered. She nodded, "I did. We were friends before."
He scoffed, "Friends?"
"He bought me flowers quite a few times," she reminisced, "I enjoyed his company; he didn't talk much, but he was caring and kind."
"I find it hard to believe that we're talking about the same man. Caring and kind are not in his vocabulary."
"Did the two of you know you were going to be arranged with each other?"
"I didn't," she mumbled, "and I assume neither, did he. I don't even know much about the arrangement, I was kind of thrown into it."
He frowned, "I'm sorry. How did you feel when you found out?"
"I found out the day of my engagement party. It felt like the worst day of my life but was bittersweet. I was grateful and relieved to find out I was marrying a man I knew and cared about."
"Grateful? That sounds so twisted."
"How so?"
"You don't know him, Abigail. Just because you know his name doesn't mean you know him. I know you still hope that he's the same man you thought you once knew, but he's not. You shouldn't hold such high expectations unless you're willing to be disappointed each time."
Abigail froze. She hated that that was the real truth, but she didn't want to believe it. She didn't think that way. His words only reminded her that she was trapped in the marriage, that there was no end date to it; that was her reality.
"I'm sorry for being harsh. I didn't mean to sound that way," he apologised. "But I know Damien, I grew up with him. He doesn't care, I can promise you that. He'll take what he wants, and when he's done, he's gone."
Abigail fell silent. What could Damien possibly want from her?
"I'm sorry for being harsh."
Abigail reassured him that it was fine. It was a reality check, a hard one to swallow but one needed nonetheless. Her thoughts followed the birds that swam along the pond. A toddler held in the arms of his parents was throwing bread crumbs into the water and would shriek in excitement as birds flew in for their snack.
"Finally!" Cameron exclaimed next to her, peering over her shoulder. "Come quick!"
Abigail laughed as he hopped over the fence and beelined towards the swings before any kid could even think about having a go. She followed him, using the gate instead, and climbed on. Cameron sat on the one to her right and faced the other way.
She laughed at him as he completed with her, trying to swing as high as he could. He was so childlike but in a good way. She liked that about him. It was the most fun she'd had in a while.
Her laughter died down, but her smile didn't falter. She stopped pushing against the ground and let the swing move her back and forth at its own pace.
After a while, as her wing rocked slowly, Camron pressed his feet against the ground to stop the swing. "What's up?"
"Oh, nothing." She smiled. "Thank you for today, I'm having a lot of fun."
Unexpectedly, a silver coin was flipped onto her lap, "Penny for your thoughts?"
"Do you always carry pennies with you?" She asked, tracing the design on the coin.
He chuckled, "No, it was on the swing. Tell me, what's on your mind?"
"Nothing."
"You know, that's just how Damien is, so don't take it too personally." Cameron rocked his swing at the same pace as hers. "We're cousins by blood yet I've never been more than a competition to him. As time goes on, you'll eventually get used to it."
"Used to it..."
"Yeah, being on your own; it's probably better that way."
"Hmm, he did mention something like that. But that makes me feel like I've done something wrong," she admitted.
"I'm sure you haven't, and he's just got a stick up his ass," he said. "Have you spoken to him about it?"
"No," Abigail sighed, "I don't think he likes talking to me."
"Don't say that-"
"But I think it's true," she muttered.
"Damien's an asshole with no patience for anyone, I'm upset he makes you think that. Anyone would be blessed to talk to you, I know I am," he said sternly, "But if you want answers from him you have to ask him yourself, he's brutal but he's direct and expects others to be the same."
"R-right," she said, unsure.
"Please don't allow him to make you feel small." Cameron stared longingly into her eyes before his attention fluttered to her lips. She hummed in response and looked down at her lap. He jumped out of the swing, "I'll be back in one second."
"Huh?"
Abigail watched as Cameron jogged over to the couple who were sitting by the bench they were just at. She watched as he scratched the back of his neck nervously before fishing out a banknote out of his wallet in exchange for a singular flower from the woman's bouquet. Cameron looked back up, meeting Abigail's eyes. He waved at her before thanking the couple and jogging back to her.
"Here," he handed her the rose, "I know it is not a bouquet and I did pay a random couple for it but think of it as a token that shows you that I care even though you might feel like others don't."
"That's so sweet. Thank you." She smiled, "I had a lot of fun today."
"So did I. Now come, let's go on the see-saw before those kids get to it," he rushed, "then I'll drop you back home."
+
Damien inhaled the bitter smoke of his cigarette. He would usually refrain from smoking indoors in his own house. His mama would judge and say something about the smoke staining the walls and the smell sticking onto the fabric couch, but he didn't care; he could buy a couch if he needed one or even a new place. His mama despised the chain-smoking but he inhaled the smoke anyway, yet this time the nicotine wasn't doing its job of relaxing him.
There was a lot on his mind, like the recent operation in Spain. At the age of twenty, he took a risk and took over his uncle's industrial and construction company, determined to upturn the failing company. Now, at the age of twenty-nine, he owned the largest international industrial and construction company, dominating every production market. Except that was what he legally owned in the face of the authorities.
In the face of the underworld, he was the largest armoury manufacturer, both defensive and offensive arms. He was the main supplier for gangs and mobs, and for that reason, the authorities were always on his tail. He produced and sold, and what his clients did with it was not his responsibility.
Spain was a tough project; the authorities doubled their forces. He needed to establish a branch in Spain through the support of shareholders to secure legal protection. He had the most powerful investors to play his hand; they were doing the boring work for him; the establishment of the industrial and construction company would mean a bigger playground for armoury production. He could fill up warehouses without any turned heads from the authorities. He was always ten steps ahead.
It was all forecasted to be approved within a month, and once it was, he had Europe in the palm of his hand.
But the Spain project wasn't exactly the only thing that occupied his mind; Abigail did, and she plagued his thoughts. He avoided her and yet she was all he could think about. Living in the same vicinity proved to be harder than Damien thought; barely engaging in any conversation and refusing to acknowledge her only made him want her more. Her sweet voice repeated endlessly in his sleep, and the spark in her eyes was all he could imagine.
Damien ended his morning meeting early simply because he wanted a break, so he took one. He didn't expect to feel disappointed at an empty house, and he didn't expect to want to see her. But it was thoughts like those that would pull him back into reality and frown at how stupid he was acting; except it was getting harder to deny.
He found himself wanting to know where she went, what she was up to or who she was with. He had already contacted the driver he had assigned to her but was told that she had never called to be picked up. He thought about texting her, but he couldn't give in that easily. And so he waited.
Damien pressed the butt of the cigarette into the ashtray, took another one and lit it. He threw the empty box onto the coffee table and lowered the volume on the TV. It was getting hard to think clearly with it on. Spreading his legs slightly further apart, he leaned back onto the couch and stared at the ceiling as he blew out the grey smoke.
It was almost laughable how he was the one playing the waiting game.
His body tensed and perked up as he heard the elevator dink and the doors slid open. She walked in with a slight bounce in her step, unaware that Damien was watching her from the coach. Her beauty was overwhelming. Her brown loose curls bounced softly at her waist as she walked.
He noticed her nose scrunching from the smell of burnt tobacco.
"You're beautiful." He mumbled. He was shocked at how fast his tongue ran; he couldn't even stop himself.
Abigail froze, and her doe eyes snapped to meet Damien's. She clearly didn't expect him to be home. A pink hue spread across her cheeks, "H-hi."
What a sweet voice. He couldn't take his eyes off her.
He looked down at her hands, where she fiddled with the stem of a rose. Damien frowned; it didn't sit right with him.
"How are you?" She asked, trying to break the uncomfortable silence.
"Where did you go?"
"I went out for breakfast." Abigail looked taken back by his sudden question.
"Alone? I gave you a driver. You should have taken him with you."
"It's okay, I went with Cameron."
Damien froze at the name, "Cameron?" As cousins, they never got along. Cameron was always chasing everything Damien had. He was an entitled brat, unwilling to work for what he wanted. What the fuck was he doing with her? Cameron wanted to wind him up, and it was working.
"We went to the park," she smiled sweetly and added, "and he got me this." She lifted the rose closer to her nose.
"Pathetic," he scoffed under his breath.
"Huh?"
"It looks like he found it on the ground," Damien commented.
"No, it doesn't!" she retorted, "I think it's sweet."
Damien shook his head, "You're too easy to please."
"Hmph." She pouted and left for the kitchen, obviously unhappy with what Damien had to say. He was being mean, but he couldn't help it. And nothing he said was a lie; he could shower her with bouquets and not just a silly single flower.
He heard shuffling and the opening of cabinets as he waited for her to come back, refusing to move an inch. She walked out with a tall glass of water in hand with a rose in it. "I'm only borrowing it for now," she said, noticing Damien's judgemental look. "I'll give it back."
He couldn't care less about a cup.
"There's food in the fridge my chef made if you're hungry," Damien mentioned before she could walk away from him. He tried to be considerate and include meals she could potentially like.
She froze, her back facing him. "I'm still full, thank you." Damien's face hardened. Of course, she was full. She had breakfast with Cameron.
She took in a deep breath before turning back around to face him.
Damien looked at her curiously.
"I don't like eating alone." She blurted it out. "I would like it if we could have breakfast or dinner together. I can cook whatever you like. I might not be as good as your chef, but I just thought it might be nice."
He appreciated her honesty, and part of him wanted to comfort her; he felt guilty seeing her efforts but chose to ignore it. He watched as she fidgeted with the flower in her hand. His stare hardened. It was wrong to feel the jealousy that he felt. He needed boundaries.
He shook his head. "I am not going to change my schedule just because you thought that it might be nice. Grow up."
Damien bit his tongue at his harsh words as he saw the hurt on her face. He knew he didn't mean it.
"Okay," she said, plastering a smile, "I understand."
Abigail felt crushed but tried not to let it show. She was hoping to change his mind, but it was fine. She expected his rejection. He was blunt and unapologetic. She wasn't going to chase for his attention anymore.
______________________________
Patience my loves, there will be more Abigail and Damien content coming up I'm just trying to stir up the drama.
(Also please don't judge the writing, I find it hard to write Damien's POV lol)
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