To Love a Voss

Chapter 4

Tasha pops her head over my cubicle wall like a cat checking on its prey.

Her hair’s in a loose bun, reading glasses perched on her nose, and she’s holding the biggest coffee I’ve ever seen.

“You alive?” she asks.

“Barely.” I drop my pen and rub my temples. “Remind me never to attend a six‑hour gala again.”

Her brows shoot up. “Gala? You mean… one of those galas?”

I nod.

“Oh, girl.” She grins and slides into the chair across from me like she’s settling in for a front‑row show. “Spill. Did you see anyone famous? Anyone scandalous? Did anyone offer to adopt you into their billion‑dollar empire?”

I think of Julian’s easy smile, Damien’s ice-grey stare. My pulse ticks up for reasons I don’t want to admit.

“Something like that,” I mumble.

Tasha narrows her eyes. “Wait. This isn’t about that Damien Voss I keep reading about, is it? Tall, terrifying, rumoured to eat CEOs for breakfast?”

I hesitate a second too long.

Her jaw drops. “Oh my God, it is. And you’re still breathing? I thought he looked at people and their souls just… dissolved.”

And then a shadow falls across my desk.

The air shifts — colder, heavier.

And there he is.

Damien Voss.

Again.

He’s exactly as I remember from last night — suit cut to perfection, hair precise, presence somehow swallowing the small space of my cubicle. But it’s his eyes that pin me. Cool. Direct. Unblinking.

Tasha doesn’t even try to be subtle. She gives me a wide‑eyed, oh‑my‑God‑I‑will‑leave‑right‑now look, and she’s out of my chair in less than two seconds.

“We need to talk,” Damien says. It’s not a request; stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

My pulse jumps.“You could’ve called,” I manage to say..

“Not about this.”

Before I can ask what’s so urgent, a sharp knock rattles the side of my cubicle.

One of the interns stands there holding a small black box. No note. No card.

“It was dropped off for you,” she says before hurrying away.

I frown, turning the box over in my hands before flipping the lid open.

Inside is a single red rose — petals so dark they’re almost black. Beneath the stem is a slip of paper in neat handwriting:

He can’t protect you forever.

My stomach lurches.

I glance up to find Damien watching me, his jaw visibly tightening. He strides forward, plucks the note from my fingers, and tucks it into his jacket like it’s evidence.

“This is what I’m talking about,” he says lowly. “You think it’s just games. It’s not.”

His gaze pins me again. “That means someone’s already watching you. And if you keep letting Julian pull you in—”

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are.” His voice slices through mine. “And it’s going to get you hurt.”

I cross my arms, refusing to shrink under his stare. “Then maybe you should tell me what exactly I’m walking into instead of just growling vague warnings.”

For the first time, something shifts in his expression. A flicker of… frustration? Guilt? It’s gone before I can name it.

Julian’s voice cuts into the air like a smooth blade.

“Funny, because I was just about to say the exact same thing about him.”

I turn, and there he is — leaning against the doorway like he’s been there all along. His smile is easy, but his eyes aren’t.

Julian pushes off the frame, closing the distance with lazy confidence. “You look tense, Dawn. Why don’t we get lunch? Somewhere public. Somewhere safe.”

Damien’s hand closes around the back of my chair before I can answer. “She’s not leaving this building with you.”

Julian chuckles under his breath. “Not your call.”

Both of them are looking at me now, the air thick enough to choke on.

It’s absurd — two men circling me like I’m territory instead of a person. But under the absurdity is something sharper. A feeling that whatever choice I make in this moment will echo for a long time.

Julian steps closer, brushing his fingers against mine like he’s about to take my hand. It’s light, almost accidental, but my pulse spikes anyway.

Before I can react, Damien moves.

Not just moves — intercepts. His hand wraps around my wrist, firm enough to pull me a step toward him. The movement is fluid, controlled… but there’s no mistaking the possessiveness behind it.

Julian’s mouth curves into a mocking smile. “You planning to keep her on a leash now, brother?”

Damien’s voice is ice. “If that’s what it takes to keep her breathing, yes.”

I try to tug free, but Damien doesn’t let go — and neither of them looks at me. They’re locked on each other like this is an old battle they’ve fought a hundred times.

Julian tilts his head, feigning casualness. “You think I’m the threat here?” His eyes flick briefly to me, softer, then sharpen again on Damien. “Maybe you should tell her what’s really going on.”

Damien’s jaw tightens. “She doesn’t need to be dragged into it.”

Julian chuckles, low and dangerous. “Too late for that. The minute she walked into the gala, she became part of the story.”

That word — story — lodges in my chest. I hate how mysterious they both are.

Damien leans in, voice dropping to something I can feel more than hear. “Stay away from him, Dawn. He’ll destroy you.”

Julian’s smile fades into something colder. “That’s rich, considering it was your choices that got her family gutted in the first place.”

The words hit me like a slap.

“What?” I whisper.

Damien shoots Julian a look that could kill. “Don’t start.”

Julian ignores him, eyes fixed on me. “Ask him, Dawn. Ask him about the Harrington files.”

“The what?” My voice cracks.

Damien’s grip loosens, his jaw working like he’s holding back something volcanic. “Enough.”

Julian steps in just close enough for me to catch the faint scent of expensive cologne and red wine. His voice is a warm blade against my ear. “One day, you’ll realise I’m the only one who tells you the truth.”

Damien’s arm comes between us, nudging me back a step. “Get the hell out, Julian.”

Julian smirks, retreating toward the doorway — but not before giving me one last slow, knowing look that makes my stomach knot.

Julian’s gaze finds mine, all warmth and mischief. Damien’s is a glacier — cold, unmoving.

They’re waiting.

For me to choose.

The words scrape my throat on the way out. “I—”

“Dawn!” Miranda’s voice slices across the office, shrill and impatient. “In my office. Now.”

Julian’s smirk deepens like he’s just won something. Damien’s jaw tightens as if the interruption is a personal insult.

And as I step past them, the truth hits me hard — no matter which brother I try to avoid, both are already in my world.