CHAPTER 5: Say That Name Again
713 Words
The next three days passed like a dance over broken glass.
Damon kept his distance—but only physically.
Emotionally? He was orbiting her like a man caught in his own gravitational pull.
And Arielle… could feel it. Every glance. Every silence. Every time he said her name like it tasted wrong.
She didn’t dare slip. Not once.
Because Damon Black was hunting for the truth.
And he was getting close.
On Friday morning, the office buzzed with quiet panic. Damon’s mood was blacker than his suit, his voice razor-sharp.
“Get me the quarterly breakdown now,” he snapped at Noah.
“And cancel the Shanghai call—I don’t need excuses, I need results.”
Arielle watched from her desk, hands tight around her coffee.
He was spiraling. And she knew why.
He was remembering something.
He just didn’t know what.
At exactly 11:13 a.m., he called her into his office.
She stepped inside, holding a tablet with the updated figures.
“You wanted these, sir.”
He didn’t take it.
He just looked at her.
Too long. Too still.
She felt her pulse climb.
“What is it?” she asked carefully.
He stood slowly and walked around the desk.
“I had a dream last night,” he said.
She blinked. “Sir—”
“You were in it.”
Her heart dropped.
“You were laughing,” he went on, voice low and strange. “Wearing my shirt. Barefoot. Spinning in my old apartment.”
Her lips parted.
No. No. That’s not possible.
“I haven’t lived in that penthouse in five years,” he added softly.
Silence.
He stepped closer.
“I woke up… and I could still smell your perfume.”
Arielle looked away. “Dreams don’t mean anything, Mr. Black.”
He moved even closer—until she could feel the heat of his body.
“This one does.”
She forced a breath. “Are you okay?”
He tilted his head. “Do I look okay?”
“No,” she said before she could stop herself.
He almost smiled.
Then he said the words that nearly shattered her spine:
“Who is Ezra?”
The tablet slipped from her hands.
It hit the floor with a dull thud.
Arielle froze. “What?”
His voice was a whisper now. Lethal.
“You mumbled it in your sleep. Yesterday. In the car. I didn’t think much of it—until I started remembering things.”
He stepped closer. “Ezra. You said the name like it meant something. Who is he?”
Arielle backed up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He didn’t blink.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“Say the name again,” he snapped. “Now.”
“No.”
“Say it, Arielle.”
Her eyes burned.
“Why?” she shot back. “So you can recognize it? So you can realize what you lost and try to fix it with threats?”
His body tensed.
And then, like a bomb going off, he growled:
“Tell me the damn truth, Arielle.”
She turned away—shaking, cornered.
But before she could respond…
The door burst open.
Noah stepped in, breathless. “Sir, I—I’m sorry to interrupt—”
Damon turned, fire in his eyes. “Get. Out.”
“But sir—your mother’s here.”
Arielle’s blood ran cold.
Vivienne Black.
The last woman who ever wanted Arielle in Damon’s life.
Vivienne swept into the office like a storm in pearls.
Tall. Elegant. Icy as glass.
Her eyes landed on Arielle.
And they narrowed.
“Oh,” she said, venom sweet. “You look familiar.”
Arielle froze.
Damon frowned. “You’ve met?”
Vivienne tilted her head. “Not formally. But I never forget a girl who walks away with a piece of my son.”
Arielle’s breath hitched.
Damon’s gaze snapped to her.
“What the hell does that mean?”
Vivienne smiled coldly. “Ask her.”
Then she turned and walked out, her heels echoing like a warning shot.
Silence.
Arielle looked at Damon.
He was no longer confused.
He was enraged.
And the silence between them?
Was louder than a scream.
- Writer
