IN DEBT TO DESIRE

“You’re out of your damn mind!” I shouted as soon as I stepped in. My voice echoed through Damian Cross’s glass office. Other staff members outside the office started looking in, pretending to walk by like they suddenly needed something, but it was still very obvious they just wanted to see the drama that was about to unfold. Damian stayed completely calm, fully aware that people outside were watching every second of this. He leaned back in his chair with the same relaxed confidence he always had, acting like the whole office was under his control and I was just another part of it. “I call it being practical,” he said as he slid the contract toward me, calm and sure of himself. “Sign it, Liora. There’s no point stretching this any longer. We both know what comes next.” I refused to look at the documents. “You mean the moment you break down Holt Designs and treat my father’s work like another one of your conquests?” He gave a small smile. “Legacy sounds nice, but it doesn’t pay bills. And your creditors are tired of waiting.” I pressed my palms flat on his desk and leaned forward. “If you think I’m going to cave just because you’re applying pressure, then you really don’t know who you are dealing with. I would rather shut Holt Designs down myself than let you claim even a piece of it.” A hint of amusement flickered in his eyes as he leaned in as well, matching my stance. He lowered his voice, almost speaking to the space between us. “Careful, Liora. Words like that have a way of turning into reality. And you don’t strike me as someone who wants to watch everything she’s built collapse, or get shut down as you said.” There was a sneering amusement on his face that annoyed me. “My father’s work,” I said through clenched teeth. “Don’t twist it.” “Oh, but it belongs to you now,” he said. “The debt, the dying contracts, the board that’s ready to replace you. You inherited all of it the day he passed.” His words hit hard, but I forced myself not to look away. “And you honestly think you are the hero in all this? Don’t kid yourself. You are the one swinging the axe.” He gave a small smirk. “Heroes don’t fund companies. Investors do, and I’m the only one willing to put even a little money on your dying legacy.” “God, you’re impossible,” I snapped. “You move around like everything is yours.” “That’s because most of it is.” “And what happens when something cannot be yours?” He shrugged slightly. “Well, I will take it anyway.” “You think all of this is just a game to you?” “Everything is a game. Some people just know how to play it better.” “You are not winning this one.” I pointed at the contract. “You can keep that. Holt Designs isn’t yours.” He watched me in silence for so long that it made my stomach tighten. Then he said, “If it’s not mine, why are you in my office at ten in the morning arguing with me instead of dealing with your suppliers? Why are you really here, Liora?” “Because you told me to come.” “Not exactly. You are here because you don’t have another option.” Heat rushed to my face. “You are unbelievable.” “Thank you.” “That wasn’t a compliment.” “It sounded like one.” I wanted to throw something. Instead, I whispered, “You want half my company? You’ll only get it if I’m dead.” Damian’s smile stayed, but something sharper appeared in his eyes. “Careful with offers like that,” he said softly. “I never turn down a deal.” “Why me, Damian?” I asked, my voice unsteady. “There are plenty of companies you could go after. Why my father’s?” For a brief moment, something shifted in his expression, too quick for me to figure out. “Because I can,” he said. “That’s not an answer.” “It’s the only one you’re getting.” “No,” I said, shaking my head. “There’s something else behind this. You could have taken us apart quietly with lawyers and shell companies; I would have never known it was you, or had to see your face. But you didn’t. You waited until I was running things, until I had to stand in front of you like this. This is personal.” He said nothing. “You are not after the company,” I said. “You are after me.” Damian rose from his chair in a slow, deliberate way, every movement controlled. The shift alone made the whole room feel tighter. “You give yourself too much credit,” he said, though his voice didn’t carry the same confidence as before. “Yet you are trying too hard to pretend I’m wrong.” The door suddenly swung open. “Ms. Holt, we need to…” Gregory Allen, one of my board members, stopped cold when he saw the two of us standing across the desk from each other. His gaze moved from the contract to Damian, trying to piece it together. “Am I interrupting something?” he asked, pretending he didn’t already know the answer. “Not at all,” Damian said smoothly. “We’re talking about the future of Holt Designs.” Gregory looked at me, and I caught the mix in his eyes. Doubt, interest, and that quiet hunger some board members get when they see an opportunity to climb. “I will come back,” he said, but the small smirk on his face told me he already had his version of the story. “Get out,” I said, but he was already gone. Damian’s smile stretched a little wider. “Seems like your board isn’t fully behind you.” I spun toward him. “You planned this.” “I don’t have to,” he said in an even tone. “People are very good at creating their own trouble.” My chest tightened. “You are not turning my board against me.” “I could release your financials today,” he said, lowering his voice. “Your stock would drop before the day is over. By tomorrow, your own board would vote you out. And everyone would call me the one who saved the company.” “You’re a snake,” I whispered. “And yet you walked into my office,” he said, “still wondering whether to let me wrap around you.” I snatched the contract, squeezed it into a tight ball, and tossed it back onto his desk. “Go to hell.” His eyes stayed on me as I walked toward the door, calm and sure of himself in a way that made my skin crawl. “Try not to lose too much sleep,” he said behind me. My hands were shaking, but I kept my back straight and refused to slam the door. And even through all the anger tightening my chest, one unsettling thought wouldn’t go away: He might be right.