Beneath the Surface

CHAPTER EIGHTEENSOMETHING BETWEEN WORLDS

She turned to leave, needing to catch her breath, needing distance from the magnetic pull that existed between them all night. The ballroom had been alive with laughter and conversation, the buzz of clinking glasses and polite chatter rising over the sound of music and the gentle hum of the city just beyond the tall windows. But right now, she couldn’t focus on any of it. Not the flattering compliments from guests or the shimmer of her gown beneath the chandelier. Only him.

But then his voice, low and steady, called out to her.

“Dance with me.”

She froze.

Her breath caught in her throat, her heels clicking faintly against the marble as she stopped mid-step. Slowly, Arielle turned to meet his eyes. Damien stood a few paces behind her, the city lights of the balcony spilling across his sharp features like golden brushstrokes. There was something vulnerable in his posture—shoulders relaxed, hands at his sides, no armor of authority or clipped tone. Just a man standing alone in the middle of a room full of people, asking a woman to stay.

For a long, quiet beat, neither of them said anything. Then, without a word, she nodded.

The music from the ballroom softened into something slower, laced with strings and a hush of elegance that made the air feel heavier somehow, richer. As they stepped back inside, his hand found hers—cool, firm, confident—and she allowed him to guide her to the dance floor.

When his hand slipped around her waist and their fingers laced together, it felt as if the noise of the entire room fell away. The moment crystallized in stillness. There was only the faint rustle of her dress, the scent of his cologne—clean and dark like cedarwood and something elusive—and the quiet thrum of her heart, now in double-time.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, but clear enough to send a soft flush to her cheeks.

She tilted her head slightly, lips curving into a faint smile. “Thank you,” she said, shy but sincere. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

That earned her a small chuckle. The first she’d ever coaxed out of him. Her heart skipped at the sound, warm and honest, and she wondered how many more moments like this she’d been too guarded to notice.

Their bodies moved in perfect rhythm, like they'd been dancing together for years. Like they knew each other's pace, the rise and fall of breath, the beat of hearts echoing between them. The dance wasn’t showy or rehearsed. It was effortless. Intimate.

“I wasn’t expecting you to ask me to dance,” she murmured, lifting her gaze to his. Her hazel eyes gleamed beneath the chandeliers, twin stars caught in a moment.

“Neither was I,” he admitted, voice unusually soft. “But I couldn’t let the night end without it.”

Their eyes held each other—long, quiet, knowing. There was a gravity between them now, heavier than irritation or rivalry, something unnamed pulling at their edges.

He was no longer the icy CEO who barked orders from his corner office. And she was no longer just the employee with a fiery comeback. In this moment, they were something else. Something more.

Arielle could feel his breath as he held her, steady and warm, the space between them shrinking with each slow step. For once, she didn’t feel the need to defend herself or keep her distance. She didn’t even want to.

When the music drew to a close, neither of them moved. The silence stretched, full of what-ifs and unsaid things.

Arielle let out a slow breath, unwilling to look away from the way his green eyes now watched her—not with scrutiny, but with something gentler. Something warmer.

She had never noticed how green they were, flecked with hints of gold beneath the lights. And Damien couldn’t stop staring at how her lashes curled above those shimmering hazel depths, or how her lips parted in a slight, stunned breath.

But the moment had to end.

A voice from the side of the ballroom called for Damien—his name echoing just as the host of the evening approached, asking him to give a closing speech and raise a toast. He hesitated for half a second before gently stepping away.

Arielle let her arms fall, feeling the absence of him like a shift in temperature. She slipped into the shadows again, catching her breath, touching her cheek where his hand had rested. She wasn’t sure she could explain what just happened. Only that it felt like something had changed—and there would be no going back.

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The evening wound down, guests began to filter out in pairs and clusters. Laughter floated into the night air, glitter and heels clattered across marble floors, and the once-lively ballroom dimmed as staff began to tidy.

Arielle waited outside the grand venue, hugging her coat closer to her shoulders. The wind teased strands of her hair, and the city stretched out before her—dazzling and indifferent.

Then she saw him.

Damien approached with purposeful steps, his expression unreadable at first glance, but his eyes immediately found hers.

“I’ll take you home,” he said, no room for argument in his tone.

“What about your date?” She asked. She had seen the pretty woman he kept by his arm throughout the evening. Elena Lockwood. She wasn't the type of woman a man could just walk away from.

“Elena can handle herself,” he said. “I already told her I was leaving early tonight, and she wasn't ready to leave yet. Besides, she's already becoming cozy with Brian Evans over there,” he pointed in her direction with his eyes.

Arielle opened her mouth to protest again, but then closed it. She had already looked in the direction of the woman and saw her at ease with the supposed Mr. Bryan. Besides, she was tired. Physically drained. And something about the soft look in his eyes tonight made her not want to argue.

“Okay then,” she finally agreed, and they walked down to his car parked in the driveway.

They sat in his sleek car, the leather seats warm from the heater, the silence companionable for the first time. The streets passed in a blur of lights and shadow, the city exhaling around them.

“You surprised me tonight,” she said after a while, turning to glance at him as the car hummed quietly through the sleeping city.

He didn’t look at her, but the corner of his mouth curved ever so slightly. “I surprised myself.”

She laughed softly, a low sound that danced in the quiet. “I think you might actually be… human.”

He smirked, finally looking at her. “Don’t spread that around. I have a reputation to uphold.”

Arielle leaned her head against the window, smile lingering on her lips, the cool glass a contrast to the warmth blooming inside her.

A minute passed. Then two. And finally, she spoke again—this time more serious.

“Thank you. For tonight. Not just the dance, but… for showing up. For making me feel seen.”

Damien’s hands tightened slightly on the wheel. “You should always be seen, Arielle. Don’t ever let anyone make you feel otherwise.”

That struck something in her. Something tender and unguarded. She turned to study him again, but he was focused on the road now, brows furrowed in that way that told her he was hiding more behind that calm exterior.

He pulled up in front of her apartment, cutting the engine.

Neither of them moved.

“I had a good time tonight,” she said softly, her voice barely louder than the quiet city hum outside.

He looked at her then, and for the first time, there was no wall between them. Just two people in the middle of something they didn’t yet understand—but wanted to.

“Me too.”

She reached for the door handle, hesitated.

“I’ll see you Monday?”

“Monday,” he confirmed, voice gentle.

She stepped out into the cool night, heels clicking on the pavement, the air crisp with the early promise of spring. She turned back one last time.

“Goodnight, Damien.”

“Goodnight, Arielle.”

And as she disappeared into the building, he watched until her light flicked on upstairs… and smiled to himself.

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