Page 62 of Mutual Desire

Dimitri smiled knowingly, an amused glint in his eye. “Whoare you thinking about?”

Damien dropped his gaze back to the menu, trying to appear invested in the options listed there. “What are you having? I think I'll get the salmon,” he muttered, as though the words could shield him from further scrutiny.

“Ribs,” Dimitri said, unconcerned.

Damien flicked through the menu, half-hoping Dimitri hadn’t noticed that salmon wasn’t even on the list.

“How are things been with Craig?” Dimitri asked casually.

Damien avoided his gaze, feigning deep interest in the cocktail section. Dimitri wasn’t fooled, and they both knew it.

“Damien,” Dimitri pressed gently.

“Actually, ribs sound good,” Damien said hastily, shifting in his seat and setting the drink menu aside. He knew he wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all Dimitri.And, of course, Dimitri was already homing in on the truth.

“Did you fuck the guy?” Dimitri asked, his voice low and blunt.

Damien’s head jerked up, the menu slipping from his hand. “What?!”

Dimitri just shrugged, his expression somewhere between teasing and serious.

“You’re avoiding the conversation. Makes me wonder.”

“You’re crazy,” Damien hissed, his pulse quickening. Did Dimitri and Nabokov drink the same brand of audacity?

“Then why are you so evasive?” Dimitri leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a smug grin.

Damien let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. He hadn’t been ready to face these questions. Confiding in Dimitri had once felt like a lifeline. But now, after the insanity of the other night, that door felt firmly closed. How could he explain kissing another man—let alone coming in the man’s hand—without being consumed by shame?

“Because I just want to eat in peace,” Damien grumbled, avoiding Dimitri’s sharp gaze.

Dimitri was too perceptive for his own good. He would see right through any lie Damien tried to weave.

“Oh, so Craig didn’t take it well, huh?” Dimitri’s smirk grew.

Damien clenched his jaw. If only that were all…

“I haven't told him yet,” Damien muttered, hating how pathetic the words sounded. And he had no intention of ever telling Craig thewholestory. That would be like lighting a fuse that couldn’t be snuffed out.Admitting to Craig that he’d kissed another man was one thing—maybe even feasible. But confessing that he’d let Nick’s boss jerk him off? Not so fucking much.

Dimitri gave him a long, assessing look before shaking his head. “I still think you shouldn’t tell him.”

And now, Damien was starting to agree. Telling Craig would unravel everything. But keeping it a secret felt like a betrayal all its own.“Secrets fuck relationships up, Dim,” Damien whispered, eyes downcast. “I don’t want that between Craig and me.”

Dimitri exhaled slowly, leaning forward. “I get it, man. But I have a bad feeling this thing with this guyisn’t over.”

Damien’s chest tightened. Deep down, he knew Dimitri was right. This wasn’t over—God, why couldn't it be?

“No,” Damien said quietly, more to himself than to Dimitri. “I’ll end it. I’ll talk to Craig tonight and make things right.”

Damien met Dimitri’s gaze then, holding it with quiet determination, ashe felt a flicker of resolve. Dimitri studied him for a moment before giving him one of his rare, thin smiles.

Despite the heavy conversation, their night hadn’t been entirely weighed down by it. Over drinks and good food, Damien had managed to push the chaos of Nabokov and his crumbling relationship with Craig to the back of his mind—if only for a little while. Dimitri had kept the mood light when needed, their banter familiar and easy. For the first time in days, Damien had felt a sliver of normalcy.

By the time Damien left the restaurant, the night air had cooled, crisp against his skin. He exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the dim glow of the streetlights. As he unlocked his car, he hesitated for a brief moment—then shook the thought away and slid inside.

The familiar route to Craig’s place passed in a blur of neon reflections and the low hum of the radio. When he finally stepped into the apartment, the time on his phone read 10:34.

He knew Craig wouldn’t be in the best of moods, but he hoped the worst of his anger had cooled. As he crossed the living room, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen—an unknown number.

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