Page 11 of Mutual Desire (The Awakening #1)

The White Lie

Damien couldn’t be of much help to his best friend’s software project. It wasn’t a lack of knowledge that hindered him; far from it. He simply wasn’t in the right headspace to accomplish anything—not after his encounter with Nabokov in the elevator.

As with every unplanned meeting with the enigmatic Russian, Damien replayed each phrase, every gesture, every look Nabokov had given him. What lingered now was the disheartening realization that Nabokov had chosen not to select Nick's software. The worst had come true.

Yet, he’d had the audacity to call Nabokov a liar who wouldn’t go through with his decision. As if he had any say in the matter or could read Nabokov's intentions. He made an assertion without concrete proof, yet he clung to it stubbornly. It was revenge—Damien was certain of it. Petty, calculated revenge. Anto-X had no flaws, and Nick’s pitch had been perfect. While some projects were impressive, he believed with all his heart that Nick's antivirus stood just as strong. Nabokov's decision had to be deliberate.

Yes, Nabokov’s decision felt like a deliberate act of spite. Now, with this burden weighing on him, Damien found himself at a loss on how to turn the tide in Nick’s favor. The words he had exchanged with Nabokov gnawed at him, leaving him questioning everything. What a mess I’ve gotten myself into .

“ Pussy got your tongue today?” Nick's voice broke through his thoughts, a proud smile plastered on his face, clearly enjoying his pun.

They had just entered the crowded restaurant, stopping near the entrance while waiting for their table.

“No, I hardly have time to speak with you running your mouth,” Damien replied, a smile creeping onto his face.

“You’ve barely said three words about Anto-X.”

Damien rolled his eyes. There he went again, dragging him back into the software discussion.

“Because there’s not much to say. Your software is perfect, Nick.”

Nick shrugged, a sudden clouding of his expression revealing his doubt.“About that, I—”

A beautiful brunette interrupted their conversation, approaching them with two menus in hand.“Good evening, gentlemen. A table for two?”

“Make it three and join us,” Nick said, flashing a smile filled with double meaning.

The waitress blushed, giggling nervously. “Um… follow me, please.”

“I’m going to the restroom first. I’ll be back,” Damien said, trying to escape.

Nick smirked knowingly, likely convinced Damien was just fleeing to leave him with the attractive waitress. But Damien simply needed a moment alone, his thoughts swirling chaotically. The moment he entered the clean restroom, Damien splashed cold water on his face, the coolness grounding him. His reflection stared back, exhausted and uncertain. How can I enjoy dinner when I’m keeping this from Nick ?

As he washed his hands, he took a deep breath. He hesitated. Should he just leave? Maybe he could feign a headache. But Nick wouldn’t buy that excuse; he’d insist Damien stay. Yet how could he enjoy dinner with his best friend when he held crucial information? Important, painful news that affected Nick? Shouldn’t best friends share everything?

Damien knew it was wrong to hide Nabokov’s decision from Nick now that he had been made aware of it. Nick deserved the truth, and Nabokov was right; it would be easier coming from him. Taking another deep breath, he exited the restroom. Spotting Nick at the far end of the restaurant, he headed over. He found Nick in conversation with the waitress, who nervously played with her long brown hair.

Damien’s arrival interrupted their flirty banter, causing the waitress to leave abruptly, as if caught off guard. Nick turned to watch her go, his gaze lingering. Damien rolled his eyes and sat down.

“Let me guess. You already took her number?”

“Not yet, but soon,” Nick replied, smiling exuberantly.

Nick's cheerful demeanor only intensified Damien’s internal struggle. He picked up the menu but barely registered the options. All he could think about was how to confess. Shit !

“So yeah, about the software.”

“Huh?” Damien replied, still feigning interest in the menu.

“I think it won’t make the cut.”

Damien’s heart leapt, panic washing over him. He sipped his water, trying to mask his surprise.

“What…why do you think that?”

“I dunno. I’ve heard rumors. A few people have had a second meeting planned with the higher-ups, and I didn’t.”

Damien struggled to maintain a neutral expression while everything inside him boiled. He took another sip of his water, desperately trying to stay calm.

Damien forced a smile, his stomach twisting with guilt. “It’s just rumors, Nick. Maybe it’s not your turn yet.” What the hell am I even saying ? This was the perfect moment for Damien to reveal the words that were killing him, yet he let the opportunity slip away.

“I guess. I’ll be completely crushed if I get a no.”

Nick’s smile faded slightly, a hint of sadness creeping into his expression. Damien felt a pang in his chest. He clenched his fists under the table. Say it . Just tell him . But the words refused to surface.

“Anto-X will make the cut. Trust me,” Damien said instead, lying through his teeth.

Nick smiled faintly, but Damien’s guilt gnawed at him. I have to fix this. I have to change Nabokov’s mind .

A vision of their fallout flashed throughDamien’s mind, memories of how hard he had worked to mend things after their previous quarrels. Now was his chance to set it right.

He couldn’t believe he had spoken such hopeful words. His yearning for redemption was leading him to think irrationally. He felt disgusted with himself. Nick didn’t deserve this. He deserved the truth. Yet, the words remained trapped in his throat.

Despite his lies, Damien clung to the hope of changing the situation for Nick. He had hope to reverse Nabokov's decision. But now that he had lied, he felt trapped. Confessing now would brand him a liar. Nick would never forgive him, and Damien wouldn’t blame him. If he couldn’t get Nabokov to change his mind, he had to tell him. Dragging this lie out would only make it worse later.

The waitress returned to their table, and Nick's mood shifted instantly, his flirtation re-engaging as if nothing had happened. Damien seized the moment to change the subject. He didn’t want to talk about the software. I’m a bastard!

“Are you gentlemen ready to order?” the waitress asked, avoiding Nick’s gaze, her cheeks flushing.

“Actually, I have a dilemma here. What I want to eat isn’t on the menu,” Nick replied with his charming smile.

Damien was surprised to find himself smiling as the waitress grinned shyly, clearly taken by Nick’s charm.

“What my boyfriend really means is that just like me, he’ll have the number three on the steak menu. Right, cutie pie?” Damien quipped, playfully placing a hand on Nick’s and, for good measure, bringing it to his lips for an exaggerated, lingering kiss.

Nick gaped at Damien, looking like he had just been personally betrayed on a deep, spiritual level. The waitress raised an eyebrow, glancing between them, waiting for clarification.

Nick, still stunned, didn’t say a word—his gaze fixed on Damien, eyes wide in disbelief.

“Um…” the waitress started, clearly flustered.

Nick shot Damien a glare, but he couldn’t hide the smile creeping onto his face.

“I’ll…um…bring you your food,” the waitress mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper as she grabbed the menus and fled.

“You asshole!” Nick exclaimed once she was gone.

“Both of your reactions were priceless,” Damien laughed.

After a few seconds, Nick joined in, their laughter echoing through the restaurant, drawing the attention of nearby customers.“You know me, D. I’m always up for a challenge,” Nick replied, confidence lighting up his face.

In the end, Damien chose to remain silent about the software. Surprisingly, he kept his mouth shut even as they shared a bottle of wine, then later returned to After Five for shots, just like they had the night before. The alcohol loosened his tongue, but the truth still eluded him. He couldn't bring himself to voice what needed to be said. He dreaded seeing that hurt expression on Nick’s face. There had to be another way. He needed to find a way to sway Nabokov’s decision. He had to.

“Oh! I’m full. I’ll finally be able to shit properly today,” Nick declared, stretching as they reached the underground parking lot.

Damien shook his head, laughing despite himself. He noticed the garage was nearly empty; half the cars had vanished.

“I’m heading back to my office. I have a few things to finish,” Nick added while approaching Damien.

Damien glared at his best friend. He felt murderously frustrated.

“If you knew you were going back to your office, why didn’t we take my car? I could have dropped you off at the entrance without needing to come back here.”

A grin spread across Nick’s face. “Because your car’s a deathtrap. I love you, D, but I’m not going to my grave in your junker.”

Damien rolled his eyes. What had he done to deserve a friend like Nick? He glared playfully. “You’re insufferable and you know what? I don’t like you at all.”

Nick laughed, full and loud. “I’m the one who turned you gay. Admit it. You clearly have wet dreams about me.”

“The only wet dreams I have of you involve several elephants going at it Doggystyle on you.”

Nick doubled over with laughter. “That’s just repressed fantasies, and you know it because you imagine yourself in the elephants’ place.”

“I swear, Nicolas, if you don’t get the fuck—”

Nick laughed hysterically, his jovial mood echoing through the parking lot. He strolled toward a doorway, still laughing, before finally disappearing from Damien’s view.

Nick truly was a pain in the ass, and if Damien had told him as much, he probably would’ve fired back with some smart-ass remark—probably something insufferably witty just to piss him off. As Damien settled into his car, a text from Craig pinged on his phone.

Babe, where are you?

Damien’s mind froze for a moment, unsure how to respond. Telling the truth didn’t seem like a good idea. Craig, who wasn’t fond of Nick, would not be pleased with them spending time together today. That could lead to a fight, and Damien wasn’t in the mood for that, especially after their recent reconciliation.

At the garage.

As soon as he sent the message, regret washed over him. He’d never lied to Craig before, and doing so for something so trivial felt ridiculous. Impulsiveness can be a real curse sometimes.

Made pasta.

Despite his guilt, Damien couldn’t help but smile at Craig’s message.

On my way baby.

But as he turned the key, the car refused to start.

Of fucking course .

“Shit.”

Damien slammed his palm against the steering wheel in frustration. He got out, opened the hood, and began muttering a string of swear words. He had no idea what he was looking for or what to touch. While he knew more about computers, biology and chemistry than the average person but when it came to cars and mechanics, he was completely clueless.

It felt like karma was definitely getting back at Damien for lying—not just to Craig, but to Nick as well. I totally deserve what's happening to me .

A small silver lining emerged from his car trouble: his lie now carried some weight. Since his car refused to cooperate, leaving it stranded in the parking lot overnight provided the perfect excuse to tell Craig that the car was still at the garage. He picked up his phone and opened the Uber app. Just as he was about to confirm his ride, he noticed a luxurious white SUV rolling in his direction. His heart jumped.

The SUV passed by but stopped a few steps away. When the rear passenger door opened, a man emerged. Damien’s heart sank as he recognized the figure stepping out—Nabokov. You've got to be fucking kidding me, man.

As Nabokov began walking toward him, their eyes locked in a fraction of a second. Damien hurriedly shut his phone and stuffed it into his pocket, turning quickly back to his car and leaning in, pretending to scrutinize the mechanical interior of the car. But he could feel Nabokov approaching—that magnetic pull he couldn't shake off.

Damien realized too late that he was giving Nabokov a nice view of his butt. An excellent view.

“Need help?” Nabokov's voice echoed behind him.

Damien hesitated. He wanted to act as if he hadn't seen Nabokov emerge from the SUV, but after the brief eye contact, it was impossible. If only I was blind and had earphones on…

“No,” Damien replied without turning, his exaggerated attention still on the engine of his car.

“Sure?”

Suddenly irritated, Damien felt as though Nabokov was internally mocking his predicament. He hated the idea of needing help, especially from someone like Nabokov. Forcing himself to mask his annoyance, he turned to see Nabokov standing there, as impeccable as ever.

Nabokov was dressed in a tailored charcoal-gray suit that fit him flawlessly, accentuating his tall, athletic frame. The crisp white dress shirt beneath had the top two buttons casually undone, revealing just a hint of his collarbone. A slim black leather belt matched his polished Italian shoes, which seemed to gleam even in the dim lighting of the parking garage. Over his arm hung a lightweight black trench coat, and in his other hand, he carried his laptop like it weighed nothing. Hishair was neatly styled, and a subtle fragrance of cedar and spice lingered in the air surrounding him. His expression was unreadable, but his piercing gray eyes held Damien's gaze with an unsettling intensity.

“I've never been so sure in my life,” Damien shot back, managing a condescending smile.He quickly redirected his gaze to the engine, his heart racing as he fought the urge to confront Nabokov further. Yet standing this close to him made Damien feel strangely exposed, his defenses momentarily faltering.

“Eventually, it must be exhausting to have so much pride.”

Damien blinked, taken aback. Was Nabokov really throwing that at him? He took a moment before reluctantly facing him, raising an eyebrow.“What's that supposed to mean?” he asked, trying to keep his tone cool.

Nabokov remained unmoved, a subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.“Well, from what I see, you clearly need help, but you persist in proving otherwise for some reason.”

Damien let out a sharp laugh, trying to mask his vulnerability. “No, I know I need help. But I already have people for that—I don’t need yours,” he retorted harshly.

“Ah! Really? Where are they? Are they hiding under one of the cars in the parking lot?” Nabokov asked, his expression as neutral as his voice.

A sharp smile appeared on Damien's face. “Very funny. You clearly chose the wrong profession. You should be a stand-up comedian.”

Nabokov shrugged slightly, putting a hand in his gray pants pocket, a relaxed demeanor that made Damien’s skin prickle.“I’m simply offering my help.”

“That’s very nice of you,” Damien replied sarcastically. “But I have people who can help me.”

Nabokov raised an eyebrow, looking barely convinced.

“I could call my boy—my friend to pick me up,” Damien added, bitterness lacing his words, as if he needed to justify himself.

“So, you’d rather disturb your friend, who surely has better things to do, instead of just accepting my help?”

Damien glared defiantly at Nabokov. What an arrogant jerk . He was about to tell Nabokov and his offer to fuck off when an idea hit him. This was the perfect opportunity to discuss Nick's software and try to get a positive answer.

He swallowed his pride, clenching his teeth. “Okay. I accept your generous help, Mr. Nabokov,” he responded, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace.

Nabokov didn’t react, his neutral mask unbroken. The two men gazed at each other in silence, a thick tension hanging in the air. Damien could feel the heat rising to his cheeks. The intensity of Nabokov's stare was unsettling, but there was something in it he couldn’t pinpoint.

He cleared his throat, breaking the spell, and looked down. “Um… you know your way around a car?”

“I have some knowledge, yes.”

“All right, be my guest,” he said, stepping aside to let Nabokov inspect the car.

“I didn’t plan on helping you fixyour car. Contrary to what some people might think, I don’t hang out with spare shirts. I can’t allow myself to get dirty.”

Damien felt like letting out a condescending laugh but held it back. Instead, he opted for sarcasm. “That’s some valuable helpyou just gave me.”

Nabokov remained impassive, as if Damien’s words had no effect on him.“Let me drop you at your place. I’ll send someone to bring your car to the garage. You’ll have it fixed by tomorrow.”

Damien’s haughty smile vanished. This help felt too much, like an unwanted debt hanging over his head. Nabokov was the last man he wanted to owe anything to.

“No, you don’t need to do all this.”

Nabokov’s face twitched, and a cold gleam appeared in his eyes. “Damien, there’s nothing I hate more than when I offer my help and the person declines.”

Damien felt his annoyance bubble up. Who the hell does this guy think he is ?

“Get in,” Nabokov ordered, his voice calm but firm.

Damien swallowed hard, his irritation flaring. He expressed his frustration on the hood of the car as he slammed it closed. He looked scornfully at the Russian man, their glares locking.

Despite every rational part of him screaming to refuse, he found himself walking toward the SUV, with Nabokov closely following. As he entered, he told himself it was purely for business, to discuss Nick’s software. But deep down, he knew that there was a more inexplicable reason behind his decision to step into the luxurious SUV.

Damien sat tensely on the leather seat, his eyes glued to the tinted window. Nabokov entered on the other side, and when he closed the door, the car started moving immediately. Karma really has it in for me, he thought. He was unprepared to stay in such a confined space with the last person in the world he wanted to be alone with.

He felt the heat creeping back up his neck, the anxiety mixed with something else he couldn't identify. This is going to be a long ride .