Rebirth Of The Heiress And The Tycoon's Lover (Alina) novel Chapter 211

Chapter 211

AUTHOR’S POV.

Later that evening, Alina sat by the large window of her room, her sketchbook open on her lap. The pencil in her hand hovered above the page, unmoving, as her thoughts drifted back to Talia’s words, and even worse, Seraphina’s. She pressed her lips together, trying to dismiss it, but the unease clung to her like a shadow.

Lucian stepped in quietly, jacket draped over his arm, his gaze softening when he saw her so lost in thought. He placed the jacket on a chair and walked over, stopping just behind her.

“Are you okay?” He asked her.

“Oh hey you are back.” She shot him a smile.

She hadn’t even noticed him come in.

“You’re quiet tonight.” He said, his voice low, carrying both curiosity and concern.

Alina blinked, forcing her pencil down onto the page as if to prove she was busy. “Am I?” she murmured, keeping her eyes on the half–drawn design.

Lucian moved closer, crouching so he could meet her gaze. His eyes searched hers intently, picking up on the tension she tried to mask. “Yes. Your mind’s somewhere else, you didn’t even notice me enter.” His hand brushed over her knee, gentle yet grounding. “What’s bothering you, Doll?”

She hesitated, her chest tightening under his steady gaze. “Nothing. Just… tired from today.”

She didn’t want to tell him it was Damien because knowing Lucian, he would end his business deal with Damien without a second thought. Alina knew Lucian needed the deal so she wasn’t about to risk it.

Lucian tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a faint, knowing smile. “Tired?” His thumb stroked her knee absentmindedly, his tone softening. “Or troubled?”

Alina’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. She wanted to shrug it off, to tell him it was nothin but the words of both Talia and Seraphina nagged at her.

She forced a small smile. “It’s nothing, Lucian. Really. Just a lot on my mind with work.”

He studied her in silence for a long moment, his eyes narrowing slightly, not in anger, but in worry. “You know I’ll always listen, right? Whatever it is, you don’t have to carry it alone.”

Her chest ached at his sincerity, guilt pricking her for keeping her doubts to herself. She nodded faintly. “I know.”

Lucian exhaled quietly, pressing a kiss against her temple before standing back up. “Alright. I won’t push.” His voice was calm, but his eyes lingered on her with unspoken questions. “Just remember, I’d rather you burden me with your thoughts than let them eat at you.”

As he moved away, Alina’s gaze followed him, her heart caught between comfort and conflict. She leaned back against the chair, her sketch forgotten, her mind still circling the same question:

What if Damien’s presence in her life wasn’t coincidence after all?

The following afternoon. Alina returned to her store earlier than usual. The staff were busy with fittings, chatter filling the space, but her focus was sharp as always, checking designs, adjusting schedules, making sure every detail was precise.

Just as she stepped into her office, Damien appeared at the doorway, his usual calm smile in place.

“Miss Alina,” he greeted smoothly, his tone polite, but his eyes holding a strange intensity. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

Alina glanced up, surprised. They didn’t have an appointment.

“Mr. Damien. I wasn’t expecting you today. Did something come up with your order?”

He shook his head lightly, stepping further in. “No, no. Everything is coming along beautifully. I only thought to drop by, perhaps discuss a few finishing touches. I don’t want to be a difficult client, but details matter, don’t they?”

Alina smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from her face as she gestured toward the seat across her desk. “Of course. You’re very particular and I actually appreciate that.”

Damien’s lips curved, but his eyes flicked briefly, almost calculatingly, toward the teacup on her desk, still half–full from earlier.

When she turned her head to reach for a sketch, his gaze lingered on the rim of the cup, his jaw tightening ever so slightly, as though weighing a decision.

“May I?” He asked suddenly, nodding toward the cup.

Alina blinked, caught off guard. “The tea?”

He chuckled, slipping into effortless charm. “Only if you don’t mind. I’ve been running errands all day and didn’t stop for a drink. It smells… rather inviting.”

“Uhm, I could just ask Mia to get you another cup.” She offered, finding it a little weird that ne would what to drink from her long forgotten cup of tea.

“That would take too long and I am really parched.” He told her.

Alina hesitated for a moment, but then slid the cup across the desk with a small shrug. “Be my guest. Though

it’s cold now.”

“I don’t mind.”

Damien’s fingers brushed against the porcelain as he lifted it, his expression carefully composed. He didn’t drink immediately, he let it hover near his lips, his eyes flicking to her sketches, as if absorbed in them.

“Your designs are truly remarkable,” he said, his voice smooth. “Each one feels alive, as if it carries a piece of you.”

Alina laughed softly, shaking her head. “You flatter me.”

“Not flattery. Observation.” His gaze lingered on her a second too long before he finally raised the cup, tilting it slightly. He didn’t actually drink, but let it touch his lips before setting it back down on the desk with deliberate care.

“Thank you,” he said lightly, as though it had been nothing at all. “That was refreshing.”

Alina smiled politely, unaware of the sharpness in his eyes as he leaned back in his chair, his fingers curling briefly into a fist beneath the desk, satisfaction flickering across his features for the briefest moment.

“Now,” he continued smoothly, shifting the conversation, “about those casual pieces we discussed…”

To Alina, it was just another business meeting. But to Damien, every second had been another careful step in a game only he understood.

When Damien left Alina’s store, dusk had already begun to settle, streetlights flickering to life as he walked with the same calm stride he wore like armor. He slipped into his car, closed the door, and pulled out his phone. Without hesitation, he dialed the familiar number.

The line clicked open almost instantly.

“Damien,” the voice on the other end sounded sharp, expectant, “what’s the progress? Tell me you have something.”

Damien leaned back against the leather seat, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “Relax. I have it. The sample is already in my possession.”

AD