CHAPTER 189: CHAPTER 184: DATE (1)

Gabriel rolled his eyes and crossed the room, but there was a smile tugging at his lips now. "Forget what I said," he muttered, taking the seat Damian pulled out for him. "You’re having too much fun."

"I am," Damian said, settling across from him, that slight smirk still lingering in the corners of his mouth. "It’s a rare thing."

The doors closed behind them with a soft hiss of enchanted hinges. Silence followed—comforting, not heavy. The kind of silence that welcomed conversation rather than stifled it.

Dinner was already plated: roasted duck in a glaze of honey and red pepper, buttered greens, delicate rolls split with herb-infused steam, and thinly sliced root vegetables roasted until caramelized. Simple by imperial standards. But carefully chosen. Familiar enough for comfort. Lavish enough to indulge.

Gabriel leaned back slightly, giving the table an appraising look. "You planned this."

"I ordered it," Damian corrected, pouring the wine with a practiced hand. "Edward planned it."

"That sounds more accurate." Gabriel reached for his glass. "You’re not drinking?"

"Waiting."

"For what?"

"For you to stop looking like you want to investigate the seasoning ratio before tasting it."

Gabriel laughed under his breath and picked up his fork. "Old habits."

He cut into the duck with practiced ease, inspecting it with a focus that bordered on scientific.

Damian watched, amused. "You don’t trust the kitchen or are you a picky eater?"

"The simple answer is both." Gabriel took a careful bite, chewed thoughtfully, and nodded with begrudging approval. "The long answer involves a poisoned tart, a forgotten lunch ration, and my sister swearing she could cook because she once boiled water."

Damian leaned back, lips curling. "Let me guess—Alexandra?"

"The one and only." Gabriel wiped the corner of his mouth with a flick of his napkin. "She was thirteen, and I was the unfortunate volunteer. Nearly died out of pride. Didn’t tell anyone for three days."

Damian chuckled, his voice low. "You’ve always been dramatic."

"Stubborn is the key word".

Damian swirled the wine in his glass, golden eyes gleaming over the rim. "No wonder Edward looks constantly exhausted."

Gabriel smirked. "I don’t think I’m the only one exhausting him. It’s your butler. That reminds me, I was curious how you met. Was he a looming father figure for you since childhood?"

Damian let out a short, surprised breath—half a laugh, half a sigh—as he leaned back in his chair. His thumb tapped lightly against the stem of the wine glass, and his expression tilted somewhere between fondness and disbelief.

"Edward? A father figure?" He huffed again. "Gods, no. The first time we met, I was twenty-three and bleeding. He was holding a knife."

Gabriel blinked. "Romantic."

"Mm. He was a mercenary back then," Damian said, a little too amused at Gabriel’s raised brow. "Technically a freelancer, hired to guard a trade envoy, I was assigned to protect during a campaign near the border. Things went sideways. Our sides collided in the middle of a siege."

Gabriel leaned in slightly, intrigued. "And you... recruited him?"

"I threatened him," Damian corrected, sipping his wine. "He didn’t flinch. Not once. Just wiped his blade on my uniform and asked if I planned to bleed out before giving actual orders."

Gabriel laughed, low and startled. "That sounds like him."

Damian nodded, a hint of reverence behind his smile. "He stayed. Not because I asked—I didn’t—but because the next day, I discovered him writing casualty estimates on my campaign ledger in handwriting better than my officers’. I gave him a field title on the spot."

"And he just accepted?"

"No," Damian said. "He critiqued my ink choice, but he changed his mind when I gave him an estimate of his salary."

Gabriel choked on his wine, coughing once into his napkin as laughter escaped between sips. "Of course he did. Nothing says loyalty like a well-funded pension plan."

Damian looked far too pleased with himself as he leaned back, glass still in hand. "He also demanded an office with reinforced locks, two assistants, and autonomy over all clerical reforms."

"And you said yes?"

"I said he could have three assistants if he’d stop correcting my margins."

Gabriel huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "You negotiated with a mercenary like he was a minister."

"No," Damian said mildly. "I negotiated with a man who knew what this Empire needed before anyone else did—and had the sense to call me out when I didn’t meet the standard."ƒrēewebnovel.com

Gabriel’s lips curved slowly around the rim of his glass. "That’s dangerously sentimental, coming from you."

Damian raised a brow. "You’re the one asking about my past like we’re at a midsummer picnic."

"I’m trying to know the man I sleep beside," Gabriel said, tone light but edged with something honest. "You may be Emperor, Damian, but you’re also mine. I want to understand both."

That gave Damian pause.

Then he set his wine down, reached across the small table, and caught Gabriel’s hand in his. His grip wasn’t tight, just steady. Grounded.

"You already understand more than most ever will."

Gabriel looked down at their hands. "Good. Then you can start returning the favor."

Damian’s mouth twitched. "Is this where you confess to something scandalous?"

Gabriel smirked. "Dessert first. Then scandal."

Damian leaned in slightly, the corner of his mouth curling. "You drive a hard bargain."

Gabriel tilted his head, fingers still laced with Damian’s. "Hmm."

Before Damian could offer a quip in return, the discreet shift of the air announced the approach of dessert. The panel door at the side of the room slid open without a sound, and one of Edward’s shadow-trained attendants stepped forward, placing two elegant plates in front of them.

The attendant moved with silent precision, setting the desserts before them—no announcement, no flourish. Just the soft clink of porcelain and the faint scent of warm pears and honeyed cream. Then, like smoke on the wind, he was gone, leaving only the golden glow of the sconces and the quiet rhythm of two hearts in sync.

Gabriel leaned slightly over his plate, inspecting it with narrowed eyes.

Damian arched a brow. "Suspicious?"

"Yes, it’s with moist fruit."

Damian stifled a laugh behind the rim of his glass. "You make it sound like a threat."

Gabriel gave him a grave look. "It is a threat. Fruit has no business being moist and smug in the middle of a dessert."

Damian shook his head, clearly entertained. "It’s poached pear, not an assassination attempt."

Gabriel took a cautious bite anyway, chewing with slow, deliberate suspicion—then frowned.

"...Damn it."

Damian leaned in, voice warm. "Good?"

Gabriel sighed, setting down his fork with theatrical defeat. "Unfortunately."

"I’ll tell Edward to add it to the seduction rotation. Now, the scandal you promised me."