Chapter 12: A Storm Brewing
859 Words
Avena’s POV
Damian Carter was acting strange.
Which was saying a lot, considering the man was already an enigma wrapped in an Armani suit and an insufferable attitude.
I had spent the past week learning his moods, the sharp edges of his personality, the way his smirks were often calculated, the way his silences spoke louder than his words.
But today? Today, something was off.
The moment he stepped into the office, the entire energy shifted.
Not the usual commanding presence he carried—the one that made people straighten in their seats and hold their breath when he walked by. No, this was different.
There was tension coiled in his frame. His jaw was locked tighter than usual, his movements slightly stiffer, his gaze distant.
And most telling of all?
He hadn’t made a single sarcastic comment all morning.
Not even when I “accidentally” corrected one of his reports before he had the chance to review it.
Which, frankly, was concerning.
I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he moved through the office, barking orders, signing contracts, talking to his assistant in clipped tones.
But something was wrong.
And I hated that I cared.
I spent the first half of the day buried in work, telling myself I wasn’t paying attention to him.
Which was a lie.
Because I noticed everything.
How his hand tightened around his phone every time it buzzed.
How he would glance at his watch like time was slipping through his fingers.
How, every once in a while, his gaze would flick toward me—like he was debating something.
By lunchtime, I was done pretending I wasn’t curious.
I grabbed a folder and marched into his office, not bothering to knock.
"What the hell is wrong with you today?" I demanded.
He didn’t look up.
"Close the door, Cross."
I hesitated, suddenly aware that I was officially in dangerous territory.
But I closed the door anyway.
"Are you going to answer me, or should I start guessing?"
Still, nothing.
Just the rhythmic tapping of his fingers against the desk, the slow exhale of someone whose mind was a thousand miles away.
Not here. Not present.
And I wasn’t used to that.
"If this is your attempt at ignoring me, it’s not working," I said, stepping closer.
Finally, finally, he looked up.
And for the first time since I met him, I saw it.
A c***k in the armor.
Something flickering in his usually unreadable gray eyes. Something… uncertain.
It lasted only a second before his expression smoothed out, before he was back to the Damian Carter the world knew—calm, controlled, unreadable.
"Nothing is wrong," he said simply.
"Bullshit."
His brows lifted slightly, like he was almost amused by my audacity.
"Careful, Cross. You’re dangerously close to sounding like you care."
I scoffed, crossing my arms. "I don’t. But when you start acting like a malfunctioning robot, it’s hard not to notice."
Silence.
And then, something shifted.
A decision.
Because suddenly, he leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his nose, his gaze locked onto mine.
"I got a call," he said finally.
"And?"
"My grandfather was admitted to the hospital."
The words sent a strange, unwelcome pang through my chest.
I had never heard him mention family before. Never seen him look anything less than perfectly put together.
"Is he okay?"
He hesitated, his fingers tapping against the desk.
"He says he is."
"But you don’t believe him."
Another pause.
"No."
I frowned, shifting my weight. Why was he telling me this?
Damian Carter didn’t share things. He didn’t let people in.
And yet, here we were.
For a moment, I considered what to say. Something professional? Something neutral?
Instead, I went with the truth.
"Then why are you here?"
His eyes flicked to mine, something unreadable swimming beneath the surface.
"Because work doesn’t stop."
God. This man.
"Damian." The name felt strange on my tongue, foreign in a way I didn’t like. But it worked—his brows furrowed slightly, like hearing his name from me threw him off balance.
"He’s your family. Whatever is happening here can wait."
He studied me, long and hard, and I felt something dangerous in the way he looked at me.
Then, just as quickly, his walls snapped back into place.
"I don’t need advice, Cross."
"Clearly, you do."
His lips quirked upward, the closest thing to a real smile I had ever seen from him.
"I’ll take it under consideration."
It was a dismissal, but somehow, it wasn’t.
Because when I left his office, I could still feel his gaze on me.
I worked through the rest of the day, pretending everything was normal.
It wasn’t.
Because something had shifted.
I didn’t know what. I didn’t know why. But I felt it.
And when Damian left early—something he never did—I knew whatever was happening was only just beginning.
Because for the first time since I met him, I wasn’t just working for Damian Carter.
I was caught in whatever storm he was walking into.
And somehow, I knew it would change everything.
- Writer
