MARRIED TO MY MISTAKE

Chapter 19

Rhea sat in the quiet corner of the break room, fingers curled around a mug of mint tea that had long gone cold. The files were safely on her desk now, some of them still slightly damp from the spill, but the damage wasn’t what occupied her mind.

It was him. Again.

That look in his eyes. The stillness of his hands on her waist. The way the world had fallen away like some ridiculous scene from a movie.

She hated that it affected her. Even now, hours later, her thoughts kept circling back to that moment like they were tethered to it. She told herself it was just instinct on his part. Reflex. Nothing more. Still, the flutter in her chest wouldn’t listen to logic.

The door to the break room creaked open. Catherine peeked in, then stepped inside with her usual bright smile.

“Hey,” she said lightly, grabbing a granola bar from the counter. “Didn’t mean to cause chaos earlier.”

Rhea glanced up and managed a half-smile. “It’s alright. Could’ve happened to anyone.”

Catherine gave her a look. “Still. You were holding like a hundred important documents. And the way Damian swooped in? Wow.”

Rhea rolled her eyes, but her cheeks warmed anyway. “He just didn’t want me crashing into the floor.”

“Mmhmm.” Catherine unwrapped her snack and took a bite. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think he looked kind of... bothered. In a good way.”

Rhea gave her a flat look. “You sound like a teenage girl.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

Catherine tossed her wrapper and left her with a wink. Rhea exhaled deeply. She needed to get herself together. This wasn’t part of the plan.

Later that afternoon, the department heads were called for a quick briefing. Rhea walked into the small meeting room, taking the seat closest to the far end while others filtered in.

Damian arrived last, cool and unreadable as always, holding a tablet in one hand. His gaze swept over the table once, pausing only briefly on her before he began.

The meeting was short. Numbers. Projections. Strategy tweaks. But through all of it, Rhea could feel his presence like a hum just under her skin. He was precise with his words, firm in his tone, but not once did he look at her again.

Which was... fine. That was fine.

After it ended, she gathered her things slowly, letting the others leave. She needed a second to breathe.

But as she stood to go, Damian’s voice stopped her.

“Miss Blackwell.”

She froze, then turned. “Yes?”

He didn’t say anything for a second. He just watched her.

Then he said, “I have a few notes for you. If you’re free.”

It wasn’t a request.

She nodded, following him to his office, heart thudding like a drum.

Inside, he motioned to the seat across from his desk but didn’t sit. He stood by the window instead, arms crossed, looking out at the city.

“About this morning,” he began without turning around.

Rhea tensed.

“You handled the spill well. Most people would’ve panicked.”

“I’ve had worse days,” she replied with a quiet shrug.

He finally turned. “Still. You were calm. Composed. Efficient.”

“Thank you,” she said, unsure where this was going.

There was a pause. Then Damian walked back to his desk, eyes fixed on hers.

“Tell me something, Miss Blackwell. Why are you really here?”

Rhea blinked. “Pardon?”

“You’re smart. Ambitious. But something tells me you didn’t just stumble into this company. You’re too... strategic.”

Her stomach tightened. She kept her expression even. “I applied. You hired me. I work hard. Isn’t that enough?”

“Is it?” he asked, voice softer now. “Because lately, I find myself wondering if there’s more.”

The room was silent for a beat too long.

She rose from the chair slowly, keeping her gaze steady.

“I don’t know what you’re implying, Mr Cole,” she said evenly, “but I suggest you ask yourself why you’re thinking it.”

And then she turned and walked out before he could respond.

Back at her desk, her pulse was still racing. That conversation had come too close. He was watching her. Maybe not enough to suspect the truth, but enough to start asking questions.

Which meant she needed to act carefully now. No more missteps. No more lingering stares. No more tripping into his arms.

Even if it had felt... safe.

She sighed and glanced at her screen. A new email flashed at the top.

From: Naomi Lancaster

Subject: Dinner this Friday?

Rhea opened it.

“Just a casual dinner with old friends. Damian will be there. You should come.”

Rhea leaned back slowly.

So this was how the game was going to escalate.

She typed her reply carefully.

“I’d be honored.”