Roommates With Benefits [BL] Chapter 69: Young Master Problems

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I gawked at the limo, to , though, it might as well have been a spaceship. A really expensive one, with leather seats and its own driver, sitting there all casual while I was having a quiet ltdown on the pavent next to it.

Right then, the driver stepped forward, and I took him in like he was the proof of my worst fears, impeccably dressed in a black suit that looked like it had never t a wrinkle, moving with the kind of smooth professionalism you only see in soone who has been driving important people around for years and knows how to keep it discreet.

"Good evening, Young Master Lockwood."

I froze. Young master? What, was he royalty?

The words hit one by one, each needing so careful consideration.

I whipped my head around to Damien faster than I probably should have.

Just how rich was this guy?!

Damien took that address in stride, as if being called "Young Master" was just another part of his life that he didn’t bother thinking about anymore. "Good evening, Harris."

The driver nodded with a practiced precision, like this was standard operating procedure for him.

"Harris has been with my family for twelve years." Damien spoke, grinning at my confused expression.

Harris, bless him, kept his professional composure intact, though I could’ve sworn I saw a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. Traitor, both of them. The whole evening was against .

Damien stepped toward the door, to my horror, he opened it and extended a hand, inviting in as if it were the most natural thing in the world, which made my brain short-circuit.

"After you," he said.

I stared at his hand. At him. Then back at the hand again. "Are you serious?"

I see, since he was royalty. I was his his princess now?!

"Would you prefer I throw you in?"

Yes, actually. At least then, my tummy would stop doing that weird, gross fluttering thing.

"Get in the limo, Oliver."

Even the way he said it, warm, patient, and a bit teasing, my na in his voice carrying a hint of sothing I’d been trying not to na for weeks, felt unfair. I muttered a few things under my breath that I’d deny if asked and climbed inside.

Then I stopped muttering.

Then I stopped doing most things.

The interior was nicer than any thing I’d ever lived in, and it took a mont to process that fact, piece by piece, because my brain needed ti to acclimate to each detail.

Soft leather seats wrapped around the cabin in a deep charcoal, the kind that gives a bit when you sit down and then hugs you back with that quiet confidence that cos from being expensive.

Warm ambient lighting glowed from hidden panels, nothing harsh, just enough light to make you feel good.

A mini fridge was tucked into one side, next to a narrow shelf holding crystal glasses that caught the light and reflected it softly across the ceiling.

Crystal glasses. In a car. Just hanging out, as if cars always had crystal in them and the rest of us had been doing it wrong all along.

The seats were so comfortable that I imdiately got suspicious. Nothing should feel this good. This level of comfort was excessive, almost a setup. It was the kind of comfort that ruins your expectations and then leaves you with a problem when you have to revert to regular seating afterward.

God, I want to be stinky rich in my next life please. Is that too much to ask for?!

I almost burst into tears, it was so unfair!

Damien climbed in behind not noticing my inner bawling and settled down. Beside by the way, not across from , close enough that I could really feel the space between us, that annoying awareness I’d developed over the past few weeks.

The door closed with a soft but firm sound, and the outside world, the campus, the students, the sidewalk, all faded away, muted to a comfortable hush by what I assud was so top-tier soundproofing.

Just us. In a fancy box, rolling through the city. Fantastic. Just great. My life was still as regular and normal as ever.

The limo pulled away from the curb with the leisurely confidence of a vehicle that had never been in a hurry and saw no reason to start now. I made a strong effort not to look impressed. Instead, I turned my gaze outside, watching the city slip by past the tinted glass, focusing on keeping a neutral expression.

While on the inside i was considering finding a sugar mummy.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. A month ago, being stuck in a car with Damien Lockwood for an hour would’ve felt like psychological torture. I would have needed hazard pay. I would have required debriefing afterward.

Now? It felt easy, and that realization crept in quietly and just sat there, true and undeniable, leaving at a loss for what to do with it.

Damien opened the fridge. The sound yanked my focus back.

"Drink?"

I glanced over. A few bottles were lined up neatly inside, like soone had put thought into this. "What even is all that?"

"Water, juice, a couple of sodas." He scanned the options casually. "There could be sothing else in the back, I noticed you don’t really like alcohol."

I tried not to wonder how the heck he even noticed that. "Do you always travel with a mini grocery store?"

"I travel prepared." He held out a bottle.

I looked at it. "Nope."

"Why not?"

"Because taking things from you has consequences, I know that now."

Damien sighed, the kind of long-suffering sigh that had beco too practiced over the last few weeks. "You are honestly exhausting."

I bead at his statent, glad this went both ways.

His blue eyes caught the ambient light and did sothing very inconvenient. "I don’t see the connection."

I caved and snatched the bottle from his hand. "That’s because you’re rich."

He looked way too pleased with that, which was annoying, and I twisted the cap off and took a sip, resolutely ignoring everything else.

As I pulled the bottle back, our fingers brushed for a fraction of a second, just a minor, accidental contact, nothing more, the kind of thing that happens when you’re sitting close to soone and reaching for the sa object.

My pulse did not treat it as nothing.

Suddenly, I was very aware of several things I had been blocking out for the last five minutes: the warmth radiating off him where our shoulders nearly touched, the cedar scent that I had, against my better judgnt, completely morized, and the way his focus was steady on , relaxed and unhurried.

I took a long swig of water. Survival instinct. Totally justified.

"What?" I asked, because I could feel him looking and ignoring it wasn’t working.

"Nothing." His voice was easy. Relaxed. Like he had nowhere to be and had chosen to be right here.

"You’re doing the weird staring thing, we’ve talked about this, Damien."

"I like looking at you."

I inhaled at the wrong ti. The coughing fit that followed was imdiate, genuine, and totally undignified, and Damien had the audacity to find it funny... not in a an way, but with the warm amusent of soone watching sothing genuinely endearing, which was sohow worse than if he had mocked .

This asshole...