Dark obsession

The London deal

3:30AM. New York. Vance Tower. 80th floor.

The office was dark except for his.

Light spilling from the glass doors in a thin gold line across the hallway.

I was running on 2 hours of sleep and adrenaline.

And his jacket.

Still wearing it. Still smelling like cedar and him and something expensive I couldn’t name.

My heels clicked on the marble as I walked. Everyone was gone.

Just the night security downstairs and him. Always him.

“Ms. Vance.”

His voice came through the open door before I even knocked. Low. Tired.

“Yes sir?”

He didn’t look up from 3 screens and 2 phones. Tie loosened. Sleeves rolled to his elbows.

5 o’clock shadow. He looked dangerous like this. Like a man who hadn’t slept in days and didn’t care.

“Sit. The London deal closes in 2 hours.”

I sat. Across from him. Opened my laptop.

My hands were shaking. From tiredness. From him. From the way he said my name like it meant something.

For 30 minutes it was just numbers. Contracts. Calls to London.

I took notes. I pulled market data. I didn’t look at him.

Because if I looked at him I’d forget how to breathe.

Then his assistant from London called. Sarah. 4AM her time.

“Sir, we have a problem. Mr. Blake is backing out. He says the terms changed. He wants a renegotiation before signature.”

Damien went still. The only movement was his jaw. Tight.

“Put him on.”

He listened. For 1 minute. Didn’t speak.

I watched his knuckles go white around his phone.

Then he hung up. Slow.

“Blake wants 5% more equity.” He looked at me. Finally. Eyes dark. “He thinks I’m desperate because we need this deal to close Q3.”

“Are you?” I whispered it. I shouldn’t have.

His eyes flashed. “No.”

He stood. Came around the desk. Leaned against it, right in front of me.

Close enough that I could see the gold flecks in his dark eyes. Close enough to smell his cologne.

“Ms. Vance. What did I tell you in Dubai?”

“That I’m yours, sir.” The words came out before I could stop them.

“Correct.” His voice was lower now. “And what did I tell you about coming to me first?”

“When I panic.”

“Are you panicking?”

“Yes sir.” My voice shook.

“Good.” He reached down. Took my laptop from me. Set it aside on the desk.

“Because I need you sharp for this. Not scared.”

He pulled his chair next to mine. Our knees brushed.

Neither of us moved away. The heat from him was insane.

“Here’s what we’re going to do.” He pulled up Blake’s contract on the big screen. “You’re going to find me the loophole. Page 14. Clause 8.3.”

I scanned it. My brain was foggy but I forced myself to focus. Line by line.

Legal jargon. Market clauses. Force majeure.

“There.” My finger hovered. “‘Either party may renegotiate if market conditions shift by more than 4%.’”

“And did they?”

I pulled up the FTSE. The DAX. Our internal projections.

“No sir. Market’s only down 2.1%. He doesn’t qualify.”

A slow smile. The first real one I’d seen in days.

“Good girl.”

Heat shot through me. Down my spine.

I hated that I liked it. That 2 words from him did that.

He picked up his phone. Dialed. Put it on speaker.

“Blake. The deal is off.” Beat. “No, I’m not bluffing. Check clause 8.3. You don’t qualify for renegotiation.”

Pause. I could hear Blake sputtering.

“Then I suggest you reconsider. You have 10 minutes. Or we walk and you explain to your board why you lost Vance Capital.”

He hung up.

The room was silent.

Just his breathing. And mine. And the city 80 floors below us.

“You did good.” He turned to me. “Again.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He was staring at me. At my face. At my mouth. At the jacket I was still wearing. His jacket.

“Why are you still wearing that?”

My cheeks burned. “You told me to keep it, sir. In Dubai. You said ‘don’t take it off’.”

“I did.” He reached out. Tugged the lapel. Brought it to his nose for half a second.

Inhaled.

Then dropped it like it burned him. Like he hated that he needed it.

The air changed. Got heavier.

“Ms. Vance.”

“Yes sir?”

“Look at me.”

I did.

His eyes were dark. Tired. And something else. Something I’d seen in Dubai on the jet.

Want. Barely contained.

“Do you know what happens when I want something?”

“No sir.”

“I take it.”

My breath caught.

He stood. Walked to the window. Hands in pockets. Back to me. The city behind him.

“The deal just closed. Blake caved. We got it for 3% less. He signed 2 minutes ago.”

“That’s good, right sir?”

“Yes.” He turned. “It’s very good. You just saved us $12 million.”

He walked back to me. Stopped in front of my chair.

“Crown.”

“What?”

“Crown. Look up.”

I did.

His hand came down. Cupped the back of my head. Not hard. Just there. Grounding.

His thumb brushed against my scalp. Through my hair.

I shivered.

“You’ve been working 20 hour days for me.” His voice was rough. “You flew to Dubai and back. You saved me $40 million and $12 million in 48 hours.”

“Yes sir.”

“And you’re wearing my jacket at 4AM in my office.”

“Yes sir.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

“Ms. Vance. If I kiss you right now, is that a problem?”

The world stopped.

“I— sir I—”

“Answer me.” His thumb stopped moving. Waiting.

My heart was hammering. “I don’t think it would be a problem, sir.”

He closed his eyes for a second. Like he was in pain. Like he was praying.

Then he dropped his hand. Stepped back. Put 3 feet between us.

“Good. Because I’m not going to.”

I flinched. Couldn’t help it.

He saw it. His expression cracked for half a second.

“Not here. Not like this. Not when you’re exhausted and wearing my clothes and I’m your boss.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I have rules, Ms. Vance. Rules that kept me sane for 10 years. And you’re testing every single one of them.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Don’t be.” He sighed. Sounded exhausted. “Come here.”

I stood. Shaky.

He reached out. Fixed my collar. His fingers were gentle. Lingering on my neck. On my pulse.

“You need sleep.”

“I have work—”

“You need sleep.” Firmer. An order. “Go to the lounge. 2 hours. That’s an order.”

“Yes sir.”

At the door I paused. Hand on the frame. “Sir?”

“What?”

“Thank you. For... not kissing me.”

He laughed. Low. Bitter. And tired.

“Don’t thank me yet, Ms. Vance. The London deal was easy.”

He looked at me. Really looked at me. Like he was memorizing me.

“You’re going to be the hard part.”

Then he turned back to his screens.

Dismissed.

I walked to the lounge on shaky legs.

Curled up on the couch in his jacket.

Mine to train.

Mine to correct.

Mine to praise.

Mine to protect.

And now... mine to want?

I fell asleep with his words in my head.

_You’re going to be the hard part._

2:17AM.

I woke up to warm air on my face.

And the smell of cedar.

And him sitting next to me.

---

_END OF CHAPTER 6