THE FATED OMEGA MATE

Chapter 14:Elias

I couldn’t bear the silence. It sat so heavily in the room, pressing against my chest until I felt I might suffocate. My fingers fidgeted on the desk, and before I could stop myself, words tumbled out.

“Amira was just worried that I wouldn’t be able to go to lunch,” I said softly, my voice cracking against the stillness.

Damian didn’t move for a moment, his gaze locked on the lunch box resting between us. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost lazy, but the edge in it was sharp enough to cut.

“So she came here deliberately to give you this?” His hand lifted, pointing at the neat little package as if it were some kind of offense.

That sarcastic curl in his tone pierced me, and the small flicker of comfort Amira had left behind vanished instantly.

“Mr. Blackwell,” I said, trying to steady my voice, “I know it’s hard to understand or believe but there are women who genuinely like me. Even if I am an omega.”

The silence that followed made my palms sweat. I thought I saw something flicker in his eyes, but it was gone before I could name it.

“I think so,” he replied finally, though the doubt in his voice stung.

My throat tightened, but he gave me no time to respond.

“Why don’t you have lunch?” His question came sharp, paired with a piercing look that made me squirm in my chair.

“I… I forgot to take my packed lunch with me earlier.” My gaze dropped to my lap. I remembered too clearly how it had been sitting there on the dining table this morning, forgotten in my rush to catch up with him.

“Why didn’t you call George if you forgot?”

The question was direct, heavy with accusation. I struggled for an answer, fumbling with words.

“I thought George must be really busy with the work at the mansion,” I admitted quietly. “I didn’t want to bother him with something trivial. My lunch isn’t an important document or file that needs to be delivered. It’s okay, sir.”

Damian’s brows drew together, his eyes narrowing as though he were peeling back my excuses one by one.

“What if George doesn’t pack it for you? What if you always forget your lunch?”

My mouth opened, then closed again. I had no answer. The truth was George never forgot. He always packed something for me unless I asked him not to. On days when I was expected to join Damian for lunch meetings, it didn’t matter anyway. I rarely ate much at those gatherings. My job was to take notes, keep track of names, and try not to embarrass him.

Finally, Damian let out a breath that sounded heavier than the question deserved. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I blinked at him, furrowing my brows in confusion. Tell him? Since when did he care? My mind drifted unwillingly to those lunches with him. The way his impatience had burned holes in my composure, the small humiliations he threw out so casually. Like the time I picked the wrong fork for a salad, and his loud correction had drawn eyes to me. Or when he complained about the sound of me chewing until I put the food down, my stomach gnawing at itself for the rest of the day. I had learned quickly to keep an energy bar hidden in my bag for emergencies.

I swallowed the ache rising in my throat. My lunch was not something worth discussing.

“It’s okay not to eat one meal a day, isn’t it?” I asked quietly, throwing his own words back at him.

His brows furrowed deeper, and for once he didn’t immediately reply. The silence that followed thickened the air, wrapping around me until I could barely breathe. I wanted to say more, to explain myself, but nothing came. Instead, I reached for the lunch Amira had left, thinking if I started eating, it might fill the silence and stop me from saying something foolish.

But before my hand reached it, Damian moved. His fingers closed around the box, and in one swift motion, he tossed it into the trash can.

The sound of it hitting the metal echoed in the room. My heart sank with it. There went my lunch. My one fragile hope of having something to carry me through the day.

“Wait...what are you doing?” The question slipped out before I could hold it back.

He didn’t answer. His hand raked through his hair instead, the strands already disheveled, as though he had been doing that all morning in frustration. Somehow, it didn’t diminish him. If anything, the messy look gave his sharp features a darker, rougher edge. Too effortlessly handsome. Too untouchable.

“Let’s go,” he said suddenly, his tone impatient.

I stared at him, startled. “Where are we going, sir? Do you have an appointment at this hour? I checked your schedule..”

“Shut up and let’s go,” he interrupted, his voice cutting, the words an order that left no space for resistance.

Panic stirred in my chest. Had I missed something important? Was this my mistake? His expression didn’t soften. If anything, it grew tighter, more unreadable. Guilt clawed at me as I hurriedly packed my laptop, iPad, and notebook. My mind raced in circles. What if I had overlooked an appointment? What if he was angry at me for more than just Amira’s visit?

I followed him out, still stewing over the lunch he had thrown away. My irritation simmered beneath the panic, but I knew now wasn’t the time to bring it up.

The walk to the elevator felt longer than usual. The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken words. Damian didn’t look at me, his hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders tense. His presence filled the narrow space once we stepped inside, his scent,dark, sharp and overwhelming making the air even thinner.

I hugged my laptop bag to my chest, shifting uncomfortably. The numbers lit up one by one as we descended, but every second felt like an eternity. The silence wasn’t neutral. It buzzed, like a wire stretched too tight, ready to snap.

When the elevator doors finally slid open, the relief was short-lived. The atmosphere carried into the lobby, into the brisk way he walked ahead of me, his stride impatient. I hurried to keep up, biting down on the questions clawing at my throat.

By the time we reached the car, my nerves were frayed. The driver opened the door, and Damian slid inside without a word. I followed, settling into the seat beside him.

The door shut with a soft click, sealing me in with him again. The silence grew louder in the enclosed space, broken only by the hum of the engine. I glanced sideways at him, but his face was turned toward the window, unreadable. His jaw was tight, his fingers drumming against his knee.

I gripped my bag tighter, my stomach growling faintly in betrayal. Where were we going? Why did he look so on edge? And most of all. Why did I feel like I had done something wrong just by accepting Amira’s kindness?

I sat back, forcing myself into the leather seat. Whatever this was, wherever we were heading, I would just have to wait.