GLAMOUR: A Billionaire Romance 💎🖤

Chapter 8: The Rooftop

The rooftop was empty.

Manhattan glittered below us. 30 floors down, the city kept moving.

Up here, it was just wind. And him.

Damian stood by the edge, hands in pockets. No suit jacket. White shirt sleeves rolled up.

He looked younger. Tired.

"You came," he said without turning.

"You said maybe," I replied.

He finally looked at me. "Why?"

"Because I needed to see if the man who broke me was still in there."

He laughed. Dry. "He is. He’s just tired of pretending he doesn’t care."

The wind blew my hair. I stepped closer.

"Then why did you do it, Damian? Why humiliate me?"

His jaw clenched. "Because my father said if I brought an intern home, I’d lose the company. And I was 32 and stupid and I chose wrong."

"And now?"

"Now I’d burn the company down to get you back."

The words hit me like a punch.

"Don’t say things you don’t mean at 3am," I whispered.

"I mean it at 3pm too," he said. He took a step toward me. "Adriana, I was wrong. About everything."

I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to.

But the girl in me remembered the gala. The cameras. The silence.

"Prove it," I said.

"How?"

"Resign."

His eyes widened.

"Walk away from Wolfe Empire. Today. And I’ll believe you chose me."

He stared at me. The city lights reflected in his eyes.

"That’s not fair."

"Neither was what you did to me."

For a long minute, neither of us spoke.

Then his phone buzzed. The board. Again.

He looked at it. Then at me.

"I’ll think about it," he said.

And just like that, he walked past me to the door.

But he paused. "You’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted and been afraid of at the same time."

The door closed.

And I was left on the rooftop, with his words and the wind.

The door closed behind him.

‎And I fell apart.

‎

‎Not loud. Not messy.

‎Just quiet. The kind of breaking that happens when you’ve been holding it together for 5 years.

‎

‎I sank to the floor. Manhattan was still glittering below me.

‎Indifferent. Like it didn’t care that Damian Wolfe just said he’d burn 3 billion dollars for me.

‎

‎My phone buzzed.

‎Unknown number: _"Don’t leave yet. -D"_

‎

‎I stared at it for 10 minutes.

‎Then I stood up.

‎

‎Because the girl who left with $200 and a broken heart wouldn’t stay.

‎But the CEO who came back for revenge would.

‎

‎10 minutes later, the rooftop door opened again.

‎No suit. No board. Just Damian with two coffees.

‎

‎"You came back," he said.

‎"You told me not to leave," I replied.

‎

‎He handed me a cup. Black. The way I used to drink it.

‎He remembered.

‎"So," he said. "Resign, huh?"

‎"That was the deal," I said. "You want me to believe you chose me? Prove it."

‎

‎He took a long sip. Looked out at the city.

‎"You know what my father said to me when I was 25? ‘Wolfe men don’t choose. They own.’"

‎"And?"

‎"And I spent 12 years owning everything except the one thing I wanted."

‎

‎He turned to me.

‎"I can’t resign tonight. The board would implode. 10,000 jobs."

‎My chest tightened.

‎"But," he continued, "I can step down as CEO in 30 days. Announce a transition. And I can put you on the board. Effective immediately."

‎

‎I blinked. "What?"

‎"3% shares means nothing. 20% means something," he said. "I’m giving you a seat, Adriana. A real one. And veto power."

‎

‎"Why?"

‎"Because if I can’t burn the company down for you, I can rebuild it with you."

‎

‎The wind was cold. My hands weren’t.

‎"That’s not enough," I whispered.

‎"I know," he said. "It’s a start."

‎

‎He stepped closer. Close enough that I could see the exhaustion in his eyes.

‎"I’m not asking you to forgive me tonight," he said. "I’m asking you to let me try. Every day. For as long as it takes."

‎

‎I wanted to say no. To walk away. To win.

‎But the man in front of me wasn’t the CEO who broke me.

‎He was just Damian. Tired. Honest.

‎

‎"30 days," I said. "Then you’re out. And if you lie to me once—"

‎"You’ll destroy me," he finished. "I know."

‎

‎He almost smiled. "Deal?"

‎I held out my hand.

‎"Deal."

‎

‎We shook on it. On a rooftop. 30 floors up.

‎And for the first time in 5 years, it didn’t feel like war.

‎It felt like the beginning of something.

‎

‎---

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