Not an Accident
431 Words
Sarah’s breath caught, the words hanging in the air like a storm cloud.
“Our meeting… wasn’t an accident?”
Damien leaned against the desk, every movement deliberate, his gaze locked on hers.
“You think I just happened to be at that courthouse that day? That I just happened to sign the wrong papers?”
Her pulse quickened. “You did sign the wrong papers. You told me—”
“I told you what you needed to hear,” he cut in, voice low and steady. “The truth is more… complicated.”
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the desk. “Then explain it to me. Now.”
For a moment, something flickered in his eyes — not anger this time, but something heavier. Regret? No. Damien Cross didn’t do regret.
“I’ve been watching you for months,” he said finally. “You’re smart. Resourceful. Different from the women in my world.”
“That’s not an explanation,” she shot back. “That’s a line.”
His smirk was brief, humorless. “You’re right. It’s not the whole explanation. But you don’t need the whole truth yet.”
Sarah’s frustration spiked. “You had me followed before we even met! That’s not just ‘complicated,’ Damien. That’s insane!”
He pushed off the desk, closing the distance between them until she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes.
“I protect what’s mine. Even before you knew you were mine.”
Her breath hitched, but she held her ground. “I’m not yours.”
He studied her for a beat, then leaned down, his voice a velvet threat.
“Keep telling yourself that, Sarah. See how long it lasts.”
Before she could respond, his phone rang — sharp, urgent. He glanced at the screen, and his expression shifted in an instant. The cold CEO mask dropped, replaced by something sharper.
“We’re done here,” he said, snapping the file shut. “Stay in the penthouse until I get back.”
“Damien—”
He was already moving toward the door. “Lock the door. And don’t answer it for anyone.”
The door shut behind him, leaving Sarah alone with her racing thoughts. She looked back at the desk.
The file was gone. But one loose photograph lay on the floor, half-hidden under the chair.
She picked it up.
It wasn’t of her. It was of a woman she’d never seen before — but the resemblance was uncanny. Same eyes. Same smile. Almost like a mirror… from another life.
- Writer
