Chapter5
869 Words
Ava barely slept.
The night after the gala played like a film reel in her head—Damian’s intense gaze, the way his hand lingered on the small of her back, and the moment on the balcony when the city lights reflected in his eyes and he said you could belong.
She didn’t know what that meant—what belonging even looked like in his world.
But she wanted to find out.
When she arrived at the office the next morning, the air felt different. Tense. Like a storm was brewing behind the polished glass walls.
People whispered in corridors, and Ms. Grant looked especially sharp-eyed and brisk. Damian’s name was on every tongue, but never spoken above a murmur.
Ava dropped her bag at her desk and tried to focus, but it wasn’t long before Ms. Grant appeared again.
“Mr. Blackwood wants to see you,” she said, her tone unreadable. “Now.”
Ava smoothed her skirt and hurried to the top floor.
This time, his assistant was at her desk and gave her a curt nod before opening the frosted glass doors.
He was standing behind his desk, sleeves rolled to his elbows, suit jacket tossed over the back of his chair. His tie hung loose around his collar, and his expression was hard, unreadable.
But his eyes flicked up the moment she entered.
“Close the door.”
She did.
He didn’t speak right away. Just tapped a sleek, red USB drive against the desk.
Elijah Crane’s.
“You were right,” he said finally. “He’s been feeding numbers to Langford Holdings. Compromising our bids.”
Ava blinked. “What happens now?”
“We pull him off the board. Quietly. Then bury him legally.”
She should’ve felt shocked.
Instead, she felt… something else.
Something like pride.
“You made the right call last night,” he added, watching her.
A small silence passed between them.
Then he said, “You held your own.”
She looked at him. “So did you.”
His lips twitched slightly—almost a smile. “Flattery won’t earn you points.”
“It wasn’t flattery.”
Another silence. But this one felt warmer.
He gestured to the leather seat across from his desk. “Sit.”
Ava hesitated, then lowered herself into the chair. She hadn’t expected this kind of conversation. Not from him. Not today.
He leaned forward, folding his hands together on the desk. “You wanted to know why I brought you into this.”
She nodded.
“You remind me of someone.”
That surprised her. “Who?”
“My mother,” he said simply. “Before the world took everything from her.”
Ava’s breath caught. She hadn’t expected anything personal from him—not even a sliver. But now that he’d opened the door, she wasn’t sure how to respond.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
He waved it off. “Don’t be. She was too soft. That’s how they got to her.”
Ava looked at him carefully. “You think I’m soft?”
“I think you’re honest. Raw. That can be dangerous in this world.”
“Then why trust me?”
Damian’s gaze was unreadable again. “Because I’d rather keep the honest ones close than watch them get chewed up by people like Crane.”
That quieted her.
Then he stood, crossed to the mini-bar in the corner, and poured two glasses of water. Not whiskey. Not wine.
Water.
Something about that struck her as oddly… human.
He handed her one and leaned against the edge of the desk, so close she could feel the heat of his body beside hers.
“You did well,” he said again.
“Thanks,” she said, voice low.
“You deserve a reward.”
Her heart skipped. “What kind of reward?”
Damian looked at her for a beat.
Then he said, “A real day off.”
Ava blinked. “What?”
“Tomorrow. You’ve earned it. You’ll take the company car to the Hamptons. One of the guest houses is open. Ocean view. Breakfast delivered.”
Her brain struggled to catch up. “You’re giving me a beach trip?”
“Call it… recalibration,” he said. “Even soldiers need rest.”
“Is that what I am now? A soldier?”
His eyes darkened a shade. “No, Ava. You’re something much more dangerous.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that.
The air between them thickened again. It always did around him—charged with things unspoken, tension wound too tightly to breathe.
But he stepped back.
Just like that, the moment dissolved.
“You’ll leave tonight. The driver knows the address. Pack light.”
She nodded, her heart still racing.
“Thank you,” she said, meaning it.
He didn’t answer—only watched her as she left the office, closing the door behind her.
But what she didn’t see was how long Damian stood at that door after she was gone.
Or the way his fingers curled tightly around the edge of his desk.
As if holding something back.
Something that scared even him.
- Writer
