Chapter 9

The realization hit her then—somewhere in the chaos, the irritation she once felt toward him had begun to wane.

And she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

As both Kara and Damien sat in their respective silences, lost in their thoughts, a sharp knock resounded against the heavy wooden door. Damien's head snapped up instantly, his mind barely processing the words that followed.

""Sir, your father is on his way to meet you," announced the guard, his voice laced with deference. Damien's father, Lord Reginald Blackwell, was a man of immense intellect and repute—a scholar whose works were once studied across the empire. Though he had long since retired, his influence had not waned, and his presence alone commanded respect. To disappoint him was to bring shame upon the Blackwell name, and Damien knew well the weight of his father's expectations."

Damien stiffened. His father? Of all mornings, why did it have to be now? His thoughts spun wildly, his eyes darting to Kara, who, rather than sharing his sense of urgency, looked entirely too amused by his predicament.

"Miss Winter," he murmured darkly, his voice laced with barely restrained frustration. "Might I suggest you promptly remove yourself before my father arrives?"

Kara, instead of acting rationally, crossed her arms and pouted, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. "Daddy Discipline, how can I do that? And with our baby in tow?" She leaned forward ever so slightly, emphasizing the words our and daddy discipline in a voice that was nothing short of scandalous. 

Damien exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening as the veins in his hand flexed. This woman was insufferable. If he weren’t a gentleman of standing, he might have tossed his spectacles aside and taken swift action against her infuriating antics. But no—he had a reputation to uphold, and she had no such regard for propriety.Damien was both infuriated and flustered—it was his first time experiencing such brazen teasing. Yet, little did Kara know, she was not just fanning a small flame; she was igniting an entire forest."

"Miss Winter," he ground out through clenched teeth, stepping closer, his height looming over her, "you would do well to curb that sharp tongue of yours."

Kara merely batted her lashes, her smirk deepening. "But you see, my lord, I have no intention of making things easy for you."

Damien inhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair before something akin to a desperate idea struck him. He turned on his heel, gesturing toward the adjacent bathing chamber. "Hide in the tub."

Kara blinked. "The what now?"

"The tub, Miss Winter. The bath is filled with water. I suggest you submerge yourself, or at the very least, make yourself scarce before my father arrives."

Kara gaped at him as if he had asked her to throw herself into a lion’s den. "You truly mean to have me crouch in freezing water while you prance about with our—" she paused, correcting herself, "—your baby as if nothing is amiss?"

"Yes," Damien answered plainly, his patience fraying with every passing second.

Kara huffed, crossing her arms. "And what of the baby?"

Damien adjusted his glasses with a composed expression. "Today, I introduce her as mine. The story we agreed upon shall be told."

Kara scoffed under her breath, mumbling, "Oh, so now you care about the baby. And what if I catch a fever?" she grumbled, stomping toward the bathroom. "You would let a lady perish for your convenience, my lord? What gall."

Damien exhaled heavily, watching as she stomped off like a petulant child. The moment she reached the door, however, her foot caught against the carpet, causing her to stumble slightly. Instinctively, Damien crouched down and, with the utmost precision, straightened the fabric, wiping at a slight stain near the corner.

Kara stopped in her tracks, her brows knitting together. "Did you just—"

Damien rose with an air of nonchalance. "It was twisted and dirty."

Kara's face heated instantly, the color rising to her cheeks. "You—!"

With a huff of frustration, she turned on her heel and slammed the bathroom door shut, the lock clicking into place.

Unfazed, Damien merely adjusted his sleeves and turned toward the sleeping infant. He lifted her carefully into his arms, ensuring she remained undisturbed. The tiny girl stirred only briefly before settling against his chest. He eyed the door to the bathing chamber once more before moving toward his study table.

The knocking resumed, more urgent this time.

Taking a steadying breath, Damien strode toward the door and pulled it open. "Let him in." His voice was smooth, collected, as if the last ten minutes of sheer chaos had not occurred.

As his father’s imposing figure entered, Damien cradled the baby a little closer, his expression unreadable.

It was time to weave the tale.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***