Beneath the Surface

CHAPTER TWENTY FOURRETURN TO THE FOLD

The fluorescent lights hummed overhead as Arielle stepped into the Ashe & Locke lobby, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. It felt strange to be back—like stepping into a world that had kept turning while she paused hers. Just days ago, she was watching over her little brother in a hospital room, navigating her tangled heart, and trying to catch her breath. Now, everything smelled like bergamot candles and polished ambition.

Her fingers tightened around her tote bag as she passed the front desk. The security guard, a familiar face who had nodded at her countless times, offered a smile that—despite being small—steadied her nerves.

As she stepped into the marketing department, heads turned. Some greeted her warmly, asking how she was doing with genuine concern. Others sent her knowing glances, thinly veiled curiosity playing at their expressions—no doubt fueled by rumors from the retreat. Whispers. Speculation. She could almost hear them: Did you see Damien with her at the gala? She left early, then he followed. They're definitely sleeping together.

Arielle kept her head high and shoulders square. She was here to work.

Nina wasted no time. She swiveled in her chair the moment Arielle passed her desk.

“Spill.”

Arielle raised an eyebrow. “Spill what?”

“You know what,” Nina said, rolling her chair closer like a gossiping teenager with front-row seats to drama. “I saw you disappear at the dinner. Then Damien showed up ten minutes later looking like someone had yanked the ground out from under him.”

Arielle glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was eavesdropping. A few people were eyeing her, but no one was close enough to hear.

“Okay, fine. We kissed. At the retreat. But it wasn’t—”

Nina let out a scandalized gasp. “Arielle Devereux! You kissed our boss?” she hissed in exaggerated surprise. "Our boss who always stares holes into you and looks at you like you're the stars?"

Arielle gave her a look. “Yes, that's the one.”

“Oh my,” Nina said, now smiling like she’d won a jackpot. “And how did it go?”

“It just… happened,” Arielle muttered, her cheeks burning. “And I don’t even know how I feel about it. It’s confusing, and stupid, and I—”

“You like him.” Nina’s smile softened. Her teasing expression fell into something more sincere, more protective. “You’re scared.”

Arielle bit her lip. She hated how true that was.

“I think I’m falling in love with him. And it terrifies me. He’s my boss. I barely know him. And everything I’ve built—my job, my stability, my family—could fall apart.”

Nina rested a hand over hers, grounding her.

“You’re not alone in this. But maybe, just maybe, he’s falling too.”

Arielle didn’t get the chance to respond. Her phone buzzed in her tote at the same moment Nina’s vibrated on her desk. Arielle fished hers out, unlocking the screen. One look at the preview of the message was all it took for her stomach to twist.

A message from Cole: "The Locke siblings are in the building. Every employee should be on their best behavior."

Nina arched a brow. “Well, well,” she said, eyes twinkling. “With your scandal and his siblings' arrival, this place is about to get really interesting.”

---

That afternoon, Arielle accompanied Damien to the executive conference room. He hadn’t said much since lunch—his clipped tone and tense posture spoke volumes. Whatever tension had been hovering between them after the retreat was now overshadowed by something larger.

Family.

The hallway leading to the conference room was unusually quiet. Damien’s steps were deliberate, like each footfall was loaded with unspoken history. Arielle followed close behind, unsure of what role she was expected to play here—professional? Emotional support? Silent observer?

She barely had time to consider it before the door burst open.

Anastasia Locke entered first, radiant and warm as always, a burst of energy that couldn’t be ignored. Her heels clicked faster than Arielle’s had, and her honey-blonde hair bounced with each step.

“There he is!” Anastasia said, arms wide, a teasing smile already playing on her lips. “The man who went viral on Insta dancing with a mystery girl at the gala.”

Damien sighed. “Hello to you too, Ana.”

Ethan followed closely behind, dressed sharply in a navy suit that mirrored his brother’s but carried none of his polish. His expression was unreadable, his mouth set in a line of cool disdain.

“Mystery girl, huh?” Ethan drawled. “Must’ve finally found someone desperate enough to put up with you.”

Damien’s jaw clenched, but his tone stayed steady. “I see your witty humor is still the same, Ethan.”

Anastasia rolled her eyes, inserting herself between them like a human buffer. “Stop it. I came here to spend time with both of you, not referee a grudge match.”

The air thickened. Arielle stood back slightly, watching the three of them. She knew from little she had seen that something wasn't right between him and his siblings. And she remembered he had talked a little about his relationship with his siblings. They were siblings with too much history, not enough healing.

Anastasia smiled through the strain, always the peacekeeper. Ethan’s sharp gaze flicked to Arielle for a beat too long before he moved toward the chair opposite Damien’s. The tension followed him like a shadow.

Damien said nothing further. He walked to the window, standing with his back to the room, arms crossed tightly across his chest. The city stretched before him, glittering and oblivious to the silent battle being waged in this room.

Arielle watched him, her chest heavy. She didn’t know the specifics of what tore them apart, but she could see the shape of the damage. Ethan had always had something to prove. Damien had always refused to give him the satisfaction of acknowledgment. And Anastasia—caught in the middle, trying to tether two storms.

From Damien’s posture alone, Arielle could sense it. The cost of his composure. The cracks threatening to split open. And maybe, just maybe, her presence here added to it.

But he hadn’t asked her to leave.

She took the empty chair beside him—not too close, but close enough. A silent gesture. I’m here. You don’t have to say a word.

So much unsaid. So much still brewing beneath the surface.

The following weeks were going to be infuriating.

And they were only just beginning.

Arielle had just settled down to work in her cubicle after sorting out some paperworks when she got a text from her immediate younger sister, Airyana.

“Ari, it's Mom. She's back.”