CHAPTER FORTY EIGHTA DOOR HALF CLOSED
DAMIEN Damien stared at his phone again. The screen glared back at him: "Message not delivered." Three texts. Two missed calls. And a voicemail that would likely sit unheard. He tossed the phone onto the couch and stood up, raking a hand through his hair. The penthouse was silent—too silent. Work was a blur. Meetings came and went. The staff gave him polite nods. But all he could think about was her. Arielle. She hadn’t shown up in days. When she did, she kept her head down, walked the halls like a ghost. Their eyes hadn’t met once since their last conversation in the conference room nearly a week ago. And now, it was clear—she wasn’t just avoiding work. She was avoiding him. He had already asked Nina to talk to her. But days had passed, and Nina hadn’t gotten back to him either. T
- Writer
