Dangerous Attachment

THINGS LEFT UNSAID

The atmosphere inside Damien Blackwood’s office turned suffocating after Chloe’s announcement.

Roman Ellis was downstairs.

Waiting.

Refusing to leave without seeing Vivian.

For a long moment, nobody spoke.

Chloe stood awkwardly by the glass doors looking like she regretted entering the office at all, while Vivian remained frozen beside Damien’s desk, painfully aware of the dangerous silence settling across the room.

Then Damien smiled.

Not warmly.

Not pleasantly.

The kind of smile that made senior associates reconsider career choices.

“Interesting,” he said quietly.

Vivian immediately straightened.

“Damien—”

“No,” he interrupted calmly, “actually, this should be interesting.”

His composure unsettled her far more than anger would have.

Because Damien only became this controlled when he was furious enough to hide it.

Chloe cleared her throat nervously.

“I can ask security to remove him if you want.”

Damien’s gray eyes never left Vivian’s face.

“No,” he said softly. “Mr. Ellis clearly came here for a reason.”

Vivian folded her arms tightly.

“He doesn’t get to walk into this firm whenever he feels like it.”

“And yet,” Damien replied, “he seems confident enough to try.”

The words carried layered meaning.

Too much meaning.

Vivian exhaled slowly before turning toward Chloe.

“I’ll handle it.”

Damien’s jaw tightened almost invisibly.

“You don’t need to.”

“It’s already becoming a scene.”

“And whose fault is that?”

The question landed sharply.

Vivian looked back at him.

“This again?”

“You gave him access.”

“He asked me to dinner, Damien. Not marriage.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what exactly is the point?”

For the first time that morning, genuine emotion cracked through Damien’s composure.

“The point,” he said quietly, “is that Roman Ellis doesn’t pursue anything casually.”

The intensity in his voice made Chloe wisely retreat from the office immediately, shutting the doors behind her.

Now they were alone again.

Which somehow felt worse.

Vivian stared at Damien carefully.

“You keep talking about him like he’s dangerous.”

“He is.”

“You barely even know him.”

A humorless laugh escaped Damien.

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

Something in his tone made Vivian pause.

“You know him personally?”

Damien looked away toward the windows overlooking Manhattan.

Rain slid down the glass in endless streaks while thunder rolled faintly across the city.

“We crossed paths years ago,” he said finally.

“How?”

Silence.

Then:

“His father destroyed someone important to me.”

Vivian blinked.

That was unexpected.

Damien Blackwood rarely volunteered personal information. Extracting emotions from him usually felt like trying to crack steel with bare hands.

Yet this morning, pieces of him kept slipping through unintentionally.

“What happened?” she asked more gently.

Damien’s expression darkened.

“A business acquisition turned ugly. My father trusted the wrong people. Roman’s father was one of them.”

“Your father?”

“He lost everything.”

The bitterness in Damien’s voice felt old.

Deep.

Personal.

Vivian suddenly understood something important:

Damien’s hatred toward Roman Ellis had existed long before the Morrison case.

Which meant this rivalry wasn’t beginning.

It was continuing.

“You think Roman came after this firm because of you,” she realized quietly.

Damien finally looked at her again.

“I know he did.”

The certainty in his voice unsettled her.

Before Vivian could respond, her office phone rang sharply outside the glass walls.

Both of them glanced toward the desk automatically.

The receptionist line.

Vivian stepped out of Damien’s office to answer it quickly.

“Yes?”

“Ms. Cole,” the receptionist whispered nervously, “Mr. Ellis is still here.”

Vivian rubbed lightly at her temple.

“I said I’d come down.”

“Yes, but…”

“But what?”

A pause.

Then:

“He’s arguing with Mr. Lancaster.”

Wonderful.

Absolutely wonderful.

Mr. Lancaster was one of the senior board members at Blackwood & Vale — arrogant, politically connected, and incapable of minding his own business.

Vivian closed her eyes briefly.

“I’m coming.”

She hung up quickly and turned back toward Damien’s office.

Unfortunately, Damien had already heard enough.

“I’ll handle Lancaster,” he said, grabbing his coat from the chair.

“You don’t need to escalate this.”

Damien gave her a look.

“Ellis escalated this the second he walked into my building.”

Your building.

Not:

the firm.

Not:

the office.

Mine.

The possessiveness in Damien’s tone sent something strange through her chest.

Vivian hated noticing things like that lately.

The elevator ride downstairs felt painfully tense.

Damien stood beside her in silence, one hand tucked into his pocket while the other adjusted the cuff of his black suit jacket with controlled precision.

Vivian glanced at him briefly.

Big mistake.

He looked devastatingly composed this morning.

Sharp jawline.

Dark hair slightly disheveled.

That cold intensity in his eyes that always made people nervous around him.

Except today, beneath the control, she noticed something else.

Jealousy.

Real jealousy.

The realization made her stomach tighten unexpectedly.

The elevator doors opened into the main lobby.

And chaos immediately became visible.

Roman Ellis stood near reception looking infuriatingly calm while Mr. Lancaster argued loudly in front of him.

“I don’t care who you represent,” Lancaster snapped, “you don’t walk into Blackwood & Vale making demands—”

“I wasn’t aware asking to speak with someone qualified as terrorism,” Roman replied smoothly.

Several associates nearby pretended not to watch.

Poorly.

Roman looked up the second Vivian appeared.

And just like that, his expression softened slightly.

Not dramatically.

Just enough for her to notice.

Which was somehow worse.

“Vivian,” he said warmly.

Beside her, Damien’s posture hardened instantly.

Mr. Lancaster looked relieved seeing Damien approach.

“Blackwood,” he snapped, “remove him from this building immediately.”

Damien ignored him completely.

His attention remained fixed on Roman.

“Ellis.”

“Blackwood.”

The lobby practically vibrated with tension.

Vivian suddenly understood why people slowed down nearby pretending to check emails while secretly listening.

This didn’t feel like ordinary professional rivalry anymore.

It felt personal.

Dangerously personal.

Roman’s attention shifted back toward Vivian.

“I apologize for the dramatic entrance.”

“You’re causing a disturbance.”

“I noticed.”

“You could’ve called.”

“I did,” Roman replied lightly. “You ignored me.”

Damien’s expression darkened.

Vivian inhaled slowly.

“What do you want?”

Roman studied her for a second longer before answering.

“You left our conversation unfinished last night.”

Damien let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh beside her.

“Unbelievable.”

Roman ignored him effortlessly.

“I came for an answer.”

Vivian blinked.

“An answer?”

“To dinner.”

Oh God.

Of course.

The lobby suddenly felt too public for this conversation.

Vivian became painfully aware of:

- curious associates nearby,

- Lancaster watching shamelessly,

- and Damien standing beside her looking one sentence away from destroying someone.

“This isn’t the place for this discussion,” she said quietly.

“Then let’s have it somewhere else.”

Damien finally stepped forward then.

Enough to shift the atmosphere immediately.

“She said no.”

Roman’s gaze moved toward him slowly.

“No,” he corrected calmly. “She said she’d think about it.”

Neither man looked away.

And suddenly Vivian realized something terrifying:

They weren’t competing professionally right now.

They were competing over her.

The realization sent heat rushing unexpectedly into her chest.

Dangerous.

Very dangerous.

“Gentlemen,” Lancaster interrupted impatiently, “this is highly inappropriate—”

“Stay out of it,” Damien said coldly without looking at him.

The older man immediately fell silent.

Vivian stared at Damien briefly.

Even angry, people obeyed him instinctively.

Roman noticed too.

Interesting amusement flickered briefly across his expression.

Then he looked back toward Vivian.

“You still haven’t answered me.”

Damien’s jaw tightened sharply.

Vivian felt trapped suddenly.

Because no matter what she said, one of them would react badly.

And judging by the tension radiating from Damien beside her—

very badly.

Roman took a slow step closer.

Not enough to invade her space.

Just enough to lower his voice slightly.

“One dinner,” he said softly. “No pressure. No games.”

Damien laughed quietly beside her again.

“That’s ironic coming from you.”

Roman’s expression cooled marginally.

“You don’t know what this is about.”

“I know exactly what this is about.”

The two men stared at each other with barely concealed hostility.

Vivian suddenly felt exhausted.

Emotionally exhausted.

Professionally exhausted.

And dangerously aware that her life was becoming complicated in ways she could no longer control.

She looked at Roman carefully.

Then Damien.

Then back at Roman again.

And finally said the one thing neither of them expected.

“Yes.”

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Even the lobby seemed to stop breathing.

Roman’s eyes flickered with genuine surprise before satisfaction slowly settled into his expression.

Damien, however, went completely still.

Not angry.

Not reactive.

Still.

Which terrified Vivian instantly.

Because Damien Blackwood only became this calm when something had affected him deeply enough to hide it completely.

Roman’s voice softened.

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

Vivian nodded once before she could reconsider.

Roman held her gaze for half a second longer.

Then finally looked toward Damien.

“Try not to work her too hard before then.”

Damien’s expression remained unreadable.

Roman left moments later, disappearing through the revolving glass doors into the rain outside.

The lobby stayed painfully quiet after he was gone.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

Then Damien turned toward Vivian slowly.

His face revealed absolutely nothing.

Which somehow hurt worse.

“Back upstairs,” he said calmly.

Not loudly.

Not angrily.

Calmly.

And that calmness followed Vivian all the way back to the elevator like the beginning of something she wasn’t prepared for.

Because deep down—

she already knew saying yes had changed everything.