Chapter 4 4

Brown's lips twitched, but he kept his head held high and his face carefully blank. In his heart, he sighed. 'Yes, yes. You're completely addicted to Miss Livia.'

The truth was, he'd been just as annoyed by Dr. Harris's explanation as Damian had. Especially that part about "a husband's patience being tested during his wife's early pregnancy." Because in the end, who would suffer the most if things went out of control? Not the doctor. Not even Livia. No-him. Assistant Brown.

If Damian lost his cool, the man's carefully packed one-month schedule would crumble overnight under the chaos of Miss Livia's cravings.

"She..." Damian muttered.

"Yes, Young Master?" Brown prompted.

"What have I ever done to Livia? Doesn't my child realize how much I love her mother?"

He dragged a hand through his hair, face clouded with genuine confusion. "Every day, I touch her with love and tenderness. Isn't that enough? What more does she want?"

Brown nearly rolled his eyes but settled for a tiny sigh in his heart. 'That's you enjoying yourself, Young Master. Not exactly evidence of saintly devotion.'

Aloud, he answered carefully. "Perhaps what Dr. Harris meant... was how you treated Madam in the beginning of your marriage."

Damian froze, displeasure flashing across his face.

"And what exactly did I do?"

'Oh, where to begin,' Brown thought grimly.

He had to choose his words carefully. "Do you truly want me to answer that question, Young Master?"

Damian shot him a glare sharp enough to slice paper. Clearly, he did not.

"My apologies, sir." Brown lowered his gaze.

Still, he remembered it all clearly. How their relationship began in a whirlwind marriage that shocked everyone. Livia's father, desperate to save his company, had dropped to his knees and begged Damian for help. And Damian, on some unfathomable impulse, had agreed-offering marriage as the price.

Brown had never approved. In fact, he'd been certain the wedding was nothing more than his boss's boredom taking a dangerous turn. But regardless of his private doubts, he'd done his job, arranging the wedding down to the last detail.

Now, as he watched his formidable boss unravel over the idea of "revenge cravings," Brown wondered if he should remind Damian of that fateful day. The beginning of it all.

"I'll start from the very beginning-your first meeting with Miss Livia," Brown began carefully. "If I remember correctly, you threw a marriage contract in her face the very first time you saw her."

Livia had looked calm that day, but Brown remembered clearly-her hands and feet had been trembling as she read that humiliating document Mr. Alexander had handed her.

That contract was living proof of how low Damian had placed her dignity.

Damian frowned, trying to recall the event.

"And after the wedding," Brown continued, "you often toyed with her. No need to spell out the details-Young Master, I'm sure you remember them perfectly well."

"Hey, when did I ever-" Damian muttered, clearly unwilling to admit it.

Brown sighed inwardly. Of course his boss didn't want to remember.

So he chose the safest example. One that wouldn't spark too much emotion.

"For instance... the time you told Miss Livia to straighten her hair. And then, the very next day, you ordered her to put it back the way it was."

Damian's lips twitched. "Ha! After she went through all that trouble fixing it once, I just couldn't resist teasing her again."

See? Exactly as Brown predicted. The safest memory.

Damian leaned back, eyes distant. "Her hair... it was so cute. Adorable, really. Soft curls, so easy to play with. I loved twisting them around my fingers. Her scent-sweet, like flowers-every time I buried my face in it-" He broke off, chuckling to himself, hand lifting as if to twist an invisible lock of her hair again.

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