Cracks In The Armor
1361 Words
Leona
The elevator ride the next morning was silent. Just like everything else in this place.
I stood alone, holding my coffee like a shield and praying to whatever office gods were listening that today would be less… intense.
It wasn’t.
I stepped off the elevator to find a man waiting by my desk. Not Damian. Not even someone from this floor. No—this man was dressed casually in a bomber jacket, chewing gum and wearing that kind of confident grin that said he didn’t care about rules because he made his own.
“You’re the new one?” he asked.
“That depends. Who’s asking?”
“Interesting.” He raised an eyebrow, then held out a hand. “Luca Voss.”
I froze.
Voss.
As in…?
“Damian’s brother,” he confirmed with a smirk. “Don’t look so shocked. He talks about me. I’m the charming one.”
“Funny,” I said, shaking his hand. “He didn’t mention you.”
He laughed. “Touché.”
Before I could ask what he wanted, the black door behind me opened. Damian stood there, all clean lines and unreadable eyes. His gaze dropped immediately to Luca.
His expression didn’t change, but the temperature in the hallway dropped by ten degrees.
“Luca. You’re early.”
“Thought I’d introduce myself. Your assistant is interesting.”
“Go inside,” Damian said sharply. Then, to me: “You—inside. Now.”
He didn’t wait.
I followed both of them into the office, feeling like I’d walked into a storm.
Damian moved behind his desk with precision, while Luca took a seat on the leather couch, arms spread wide like he owned the room.
“I see you’ve upgraded,” Luca said, nodding toward me.
“I don’t discuss my staff with outsiders,” Damian said coolly.
“Family isn’t an outsider.”
“You are.”
Luca grinned wider. “Still bitter, huh?”
“I’m still efficient. There’s a difference.”
The tension crackled between them like dry lightning. I didn’t know what happened between these two, but it was personal—and old.
Damian’s eyes cut to me. “Wait outside.”
I hesitated.
“Now.”
I left the office without a word. The moment the door closed behind me, I exhaled like I’d just come up for air.
Interesting.
He hadn’t wanted me in the room.
Not because of professionalism. Because of vulnerability.
⸻
Twenty minutes later, the door reopened.
Luca strolled out with that same smirk, giving me a lazy two-fingered salute. “See you around, Leona.”
I didn’t respond.
Damian’s voice came from inside. “Back in.”
I stepped in and shut the door behind me.
Damian stood at the window, hands in his pockets. He didn’t turn.
“Whatever you heard—forget it.”
“I didn’t hear anything.”
He finally turned. His face was blank, but his jaw was tight.
“Luca doesn’t represent me. He’s impulsive. Reckless. He thinks charm solves everything.”
I nodded. “And you don’t?”
His eyes sharpened. “Charm is a distraction. I don’t use it. I use results.”
I stayed quiet.
“He has no place here,” Damian added. “He wants access, and he thinks blood earns it.”
I chose my next words carefully. “Sometimes family wants to be seen, not used.”
Something passed over his face. A flicker of pain. Or maybe it was just a shadow.
“I’m not interested in sentiment,” he said.
“No,” I said softly. “You’re interested in control.”
That got his attention.
He stepped forward slowly, eyes locked on mine.
“You’re skating on thin ice, Miss Hart.”
“I know,” I said, pulse racing. “But maybe that’s exactly where I want to be.”
His stare was electric. Tense. Heavy.
Then he exhaled once, sharply, and turned back to his desk.
“I need a prep file for the Collins acquisition by noon. Full risk profile. Clean draft. No fluff.”
“Consider it done.”
“And Leona?”
I stopped at the door.
“Don’t talk to Luca again.”
I didn’t answer. I just closed the door behind me.
I spent the next three hours buried in spreadsheets, legal briefs, and press releases. Collins Media was a sinking ship dressed in designer labels. On the surface, they looked polished. But their finances were hollow, and the leadership team was quietly falling apart.
Still, it was a strategic move. For someone like Damian, failure wasn’t a deterrent—it was a bargain.
By 11:58, the file was on his desk.
I didn’t knock. I just walked in and set it down.
He looked up, scanning me briefly. “Early.”
“You gave me a deadline, not a suggestion.”
The smallest twitch hit his mouth.
“You’re learning.”
“I learn fast.”
His eyes dropped to the file. “Let’s see if you do.”
The rest of the day passed in quiet fire.
Every time I caught a glimpse of him through the glass, I could feel his presence like pressure in the air. Everything about Damian was still and lethal. And yet, something in him had shifted. He spoke less. Watched more. Like he was processing a threat that wasn’t external.
Like maybe the threat was me.
At 6:04 p.m., the office was empty except for us.
I gathered my things quietly, resisting the part of me that wanted him to say something. Anything.
Just as I reached the elevator, his voice came from behind me.
“Stay.”
I turned, brows lifting.
“For what?”
He stood at the entrance of his office. No suit jacket now, sleeves rolled to his forearms, a loosened tie hanging like an afterthought. He looked human for once. Still dangerous, but… tired.
“I want your opinion.”
“That’s dangerous,” I said. “You don’t like opinions.”
“I don’t like incompetence. You haven’t given me a reason to lump you in yet.”
I followed him inside, setting my bag down beside the door.
He gestured to the couch.
“I’m not a guest.”
“Sit anyway.”
I sat.
He handed me a file. “This deal doesn’t feel right. Look at it.”
I skimmed it quickly. It was cleaner than most. Polished. Almost too polished.
“They’re hiding something,” I said. “Or this would’ve gone through last quarter.”
He nodded. “That’s what I thought.”
“You want to catch them lying?”
“No,” he said. “I want to watch them lie.”
I laughed. “That’s dark.”
He looked at me then, fully, for the first time in hours. “Everything worth knowing is hidden in lies.”
“Is that your philosophy?”
“It’s my survival tactic.”
He stepped closer.
Too close.
“You’re sharp, Leona. But you still look at people like you expect them to surprise you.”
“Is that a flaw?”
“It’s a weakness.”
“And you? Do you expect people to fail?”
“I count on it.”
We were too close now. Close enough that I could see the slight scar just above his brow, the one the media never mentioned.
He looked at me like he was about to say something real—something raw.
But then he blinked, and the moment passed.
“I’ll walk you out,” he said.
“No need.”
“I wasn’t asking.”
The elevator ride down was quiet.
When the doors opened to the lobby, he turned to me with a strange look—like he was fighting something he didn’t want to name.
“I don’t let people in, Leona.”
“I didn’t ask to be let in.”
His jaw tightened. “Good. Keep it that way.”
I walked out into the night without another word.
But I could feel his eyes on my back the whole way out.
- Writer
