SPECIE OF LOVE

LET THE GAME BEGINS

Chapter 2 - THE GAME BEGINS

Damien Pov

He slept in the office. Again.

The leather couch in his private lounge was cold and stiff, nothing like his bed at the penthouse, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t cared about comfort in years. Comfort was a distraction. Comfort made you soft. And soft men lost empires.

He woke at 6:42am to the taste of stale coffee and regret. Everything from last night hit him at once, sharp and jagged. Ava crouched by his cabinet. The black file in her hands. The words “Pregnancy Test. Positive. Damien Cole.” Her tears. His own voice, cold as steel: “That is none of your business.”

One part of him was angry. She overstepped. She broke every rule in the employee handbook by opening that cabinet. She invaded his privacy, his secrets, his mess. Assistants didn’t dig. They filed. They scheduled. They stayed invisible. That was the deal.

Another part of him was irritated. A child. A baby. Isabella’s voice on the phone three weeks ago echoed in his head: “Damien, we need to talk. I’m pregnant.” His playboy life, the one he’d carefully built with no attachments, no strings, no consequences, was about to be interrupted. A baby meant responsibility. A baby meant Isabella tied to him forever. A baby meant his carefully controlled world cracking open.

And then there was the third part. The part he didn’t want to admit existed. The part that was scared. Anxious. Why was Ava crying? Ava, who for five years had been a ghost in his office. Ava, who never complained, never asked for more, never looked at him like he owed her anything. She’d seen one piece of paper and shattered. Why did that look in her eyes feel like a knife in his chest?

The alarm on his phone snapped him back to reality. 7:09am.

He cursed under his breath, shoved the blanket aside, and ran a hand through his hair. He looked like hell. He felt worse. He grabbed his phone, a stack of documents he’d been reviewing at 3am, and headed for the door. Home first. Shower. Change. Then he’d deal with Ava. He’d deal with Isabella. He’d deal with the fact that his life was no longer his own.

But as the elevator descended, one thought kept circling: Why did Ava cry?

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Ava’s Pov

She walked into Cole Holdings at 8:00am sharp. No strings attached. That’s what she told herself. Just Ava Williams, Personal Assistant to Damien Cole. Do the job. Collect the paycheck. Secretly investigate who Isabella George is. That was the plan.

No more navy dresses. No more hoping he’d notice. No more five years of silent love. Let the game begin.

She waited by his office door till 8:30am. Nothing. Thirty more minutes passed. 9:00am. The floor was quiet, tense. Everyone knew Damien had slept in the office again. Everyone knew something was off.

Then the sound. The door opened.

He came in looking all dope, like always. Dark suit, crisp shirt, jaw tight, storm-gray eyes scanning the room like he was looking for a threat. He must’ve worked late. She could see it in the faint shadow under his eyes, the way his tie wasn’t knotted with his usual military precision.

She already knew what happened. He’d seen the file was touched. He’d put two and two together. He knew she knew.

“Ava,” he shouted from his office. No “hey you” this time. No “my coffee”. Just her name. Barked like a command.

She jolted back to reality and quickly poured him a coffee at the kitchenette. Black. No sugar. Two inches from the edge. Handle left. Muscle memory. She followed him into the office and handed it over, her hand steady even though her heart was hammering.

He took it, brought it to his lips, then stopped.

“Jeez. Hey. No sugar.”

He was angry. It showed in the tight line of his mouth, the way his eyes narrowed. But he kept it low. Controlled. Damien Cole didn’t yell in front of staff. He didn’t have to. His silence was worse.

He kept staring at her like an angry wolf. Like he was trying to see through her skull, read the thoughts she was hiding. Like he was daring her to bring up last night.

She didn’t flinch. She didn’t apologize. She unapologetically opened his tablet and started reading his schedule, voice clear, professional, detached.

“9:30, conference call with London. 11:00, meeting with legal regarding the Meridian acquisition. 1:00, lunch canceled. 2:30, site visit. 4:00, board call. 6:00, you’re free, sir.”

He was shocked. She could see it. He didn’t even pay attention to the schedule. He was too busy watching her face for cracks, for tears, for the broken girl from last night.

When she finished reading, she closed the tablet and looked him straight in the eye. For the first time in five years, she didn’t drop her gaze first.

“Sir, please can I go now?”

The shock on his face was subtle but it was there. A slight lift of his brow. A pause. Damien Cole was not used to his PA asking to be dismissed. She was always there, hovering, waiting, invisible.

She loved it. At least he should have a bit of his own cake. Let him feel what it’s like to be unseen for once.

He didn’t say anything. Just stared. The silence stretched between them, heavy and electric.

So she stepped out.

Smiling through the hallway, heels clicking against marble, she whispered to herself, “Let the game begin.”

For five years she’d been invisible. Today, Damien Cole was going to see her. Even if it was through anger. Even if it was through suspicion. Even if it was through war.

Isabella George. A baby. A secret. Fine.

Ava had secrets too. And she was done hiding them.

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