The Glimpse Behind The Ice
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Chapter 5
The morning passed in a blur of emails, calendar updates, and quiet footfalls. Ariella worked efficiently, her fingers moving across the keyboard in smooth, practiced motions. She barely looked up when Damien Blackwood exited his office twice for meetings, each time nodding at her in that silent, unreadable way he did.
He hadn’t spoken more than two words to her all morning, but she felt his presence—like a cold wind pressing against her back even when he wasn’t in the room.
At exactly 11:58 a.m., his door opened again.
“Miss Johnson.”
She turned immediately, standing.
“Yes, Mr. Blackwood?”
His expression was unreadable, but his tone held a thread of something… softer. Curious, maybe.
“I’m reviewing the charity portfolio,” he said, holding a slim folder in one hand. “Join me in the conference room. I want your take on the presentation slides before I finalize them.”
Her brows lifted slightly. He’d never asked for her opinion before.
“Yes, of course,” she replied, grabbing her notepad and following him.
The executive conference room was bright and spacious, walls lined with framed awards and cityscape views. Damien sat at the head of the long table and gestured for her to sit beside him.
As he flipped open the folder, Ariella snuck a glance at his profile. Sharp jawline, clean-cut beard, sleeves rolled just slightly to reveal strong forearms. He didn’t look like the man from five years ago—not exactly. That version of him had been looser, slightly tipsy, smiling. This Damien was all control and clipped sentences.
Still, his presence pulled at something inside her.
“What do you see here?” he asked, pointing to a series of donation figures.
She leaned closer, brushing the edge of his sleeve as she glanced at the papers. “You’re focusing mostly on education grants and medical support. That’s good—it shows compassion. But the presentation feels cold. Like a financial pitch.”
He tilted his head slightly, intrigued.
“Go on.”
She met his eyes—briefly—and her breath caught. Those eyes still stirred memories she wasn’t ready to revisit.
“If you want investors to care about your charity wing, show them why it matters,” she said quietly. “Add a testimonial. A story. Make it human.”
There was a long pause.
Then, to her shock, the corner of Damien’s mouth lifted—just a little.
“You’re not just here to type up reports, are you?”
She blinked. “Sir?”
“You think. That’s rare.”
He stood and walked toward the window, his back to her now.
“I’ve had dozens of assistants,” he continued, arms crossed behind him. “Most of them cared more about my signature than the work. But you... there’s something different.”
Ariella felt her throat tighten. Don’t ask. Don’t remember. Please don’t—
“Have we met before?” he asked suddenly, still facing the window.
She froze.
“What makes you ask that?”
He turned back, his gaze sharper now. Not cruel, but searching.
“You’re familiar. Something about your voice. Your eyes.”
Ariella’s heartbeat thundered in her ears. Her fingers curled tightly around her notepad.
She forced a small smile, carefully measured. “I guess I just have one of those faces.”
He studied her for a beat longer, as if trying to solve a puzzle that refused to show all its pieces.
Then, he nodded once and sat down again. “You were right about the pitch. We’ll revise it. Add something with impact.”
Ariella exhaled silently, a storm of emotion still swirling beneath her calm exterior. She couldn’t tell whether she had dodged a bullet—or taken the first hit.
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Later That Day
As she walked back to her desk, her thoughts swirled with everything unsaid. The moment had been subtle—quiet—but it cracked the first layer of the ice Damien wore like armor.
And for the first time, she wondered:
What if he did remember someday?
Would he still look at her the same way?
Or would everything fall apart?
One thing was certain—he was noticing her. Not just as an employee. As something… else.
And that, more than anything, terrified her.
- Writer
