Secret Dating With My Father's Enemy

The morning air was still crisp when Elara stepped out of the house beside her father, her heels clicking softly against the marble steps as her mother, Anna, hurried after them, holding out a neatly wrapped breakfast with one hand while adjusting her apron with the other, her voice warm and anxious as she called, “At least take something with you, Victor, Elara, you both barely touched dinner last night, you’ll faint before noon if you don’t eat.” Elara turned slightly, a soft smile tugging her lips as she reached to take the package, saying, “Mother, we’ll manage, you don’t have to worry so much,” though she knew the words would never quiet her mother’s fussing, not when her eyes still lingered on them with that mixture of pride and fear every time father and daughter left for the office together. Anna fussed with her husband’s collar, smoothing the crisp line of his suit before reaching for Elara too, brushing at her jacket as if she could protect her daughter from the storm of business waiting outside those doors. “Just… eat something, please,” she murmured, her hand squeezing Elara’s arm. Elara slipped into the car, the leather cold against her legs, her fingers tightening around the breakfast bag while her father followed with that commanding stride of his, the weight of power practically rolling off him as he entered and settled into his seat. The door shut with a heavy click, and in an instant his expression shifted, the warmth of a husband and father fading as his eyes hardened and the businessman mask slid into place. “Elara,” he said, voice deep, firm, expectant, his brows raised as he fixed his gaze on her, “what’s the update on the Alpha Project.” She straightened, shoulders pulled back as though she were already in the boardroom, replying in the same steady tone he had trained into her, “The proposals are finalized, we’ve narrowed down to three firms, but I want to run the projections once more before I put my name on the table.” He nodded once, sharp and approving, and asked, “And the overseas merger, where do you stand on it.” Her lips pressed together before she answered, “It’s risky, I won’t lie about that, but if we handle the execution cleanly, the expansion could double our market presence in under a year.” For a moment he said nothing, only gave her that silent look that always made her feel both tested and acknowledged, then finally muttered, “Good, you’re learning.” By the time they reached Vaughn Enterprises, the rhythm between them was set, no small talk, no wasted words, only the language of business pulsing through the car until the glass doors of the building swallowed them whole. Assistants bowed their heads, secretaries scurried, the polished floor echoing beneath their steps as they cut straight through the lobby and up to the top floor, to the heart of the company, the boardroom. Victor pushed the heavy doors open, his presence enough to silence the low murmurs inside, and Elara followed, ready to slip in behind him when suddenly her path was blocked by a figure standing far too deliberately in her way. Her eyes lifted, and she froze when they landed on him. Damien Cross. He leaned against the frame with an ease that was calculated, his lips curved into that smug half-smile that made her blood heat in all the wrong ways, his dark eyes glinting with something between mockery and challenge. Elara’s jaw tightened as she said coolly, “Excuse me, Damien, move.” But he didn’t, not even a twitch of compliance, his smile only deepening as his gaze swept over her slowly, almost lazily, as if he had all the time in the world. Her brows drew together, irritation sparking in her chest, and she repeated, sharper this time, “Move, Damien, I don’t have time for your games.” Still no answer, only that infuriating gleam in his eyes, his silence louder than any insult. With a huff, Elara lifted her hand and shoved him firmly aside, her chin held high as she swept past him into the conference room without sparing him another glance, though his low chuckle followed her like smoke curling around her ears, smug, taunting, and unmistakably satisfied. Damien entered a moment later, unhurried as if the entire meeting was waiting for him, his steps measured, his gaze fixed ahead. Elara had already taken her seat, her notes neatly spread in front of her, her back straight and every inch of her posture screaming focus, but as he passed behind her chair he deliberately leaned just enough for his shoulder to brush against hers. Her head snapped toward him, her eyes flashing with irritation, and she hissed under her breath, “Seriously?” but Damien only let the corner of his mouth curl into that smug half-smile before moving on. From the corner of her eye, Elara caught her father’s face hardening into a disapproving frown, his jaw tightening ever so slightly as his eyes flicked from her to Damien and back. She straightened immediately, biting back a sigh, already knowing she would hear a lecture about “composure” and “distractions” the moment this meeting was over. Still, she kept her chin high, her hands folded neatly over her papers as if nothing had happened. Damien slid into the far corner chair, sprawling with the kind of careless ease that only made him stand out more, surrounded by men and women who carried themselves with restraint and precision. He didn’t even try to hide his disinterest. Victor Vaughn cleared his throat, his voice cutting sharp and commanding through the room. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s get straight to it so there’s an investment deal that has recently come to the table, and I believe it carries weight worth our attention. However, I would like to hear your opinions before we make any commitments.” The room leaned forward, pens scratching across notepads, heads nodding thoughtfully as Victor outlined the key points, but Damien’s attention was nowhere near the discussion. He had pulled out his phone, thumbs tapping against the screen in a steady rhythm, his eyes lowered in complete disregard for the authority in the room. At first, Victor’s gaze swept past him, perhaps choosing to ignore the insolence, but then Damien suddenly let out a low laugh, the sound slicing through the boardroom like a blade. Every head turned, startled, and Victor’s expression darkened instantly. “Damien,” Victor said slowly, his voice like steel drawn across stone, “would you care to tell us exactly what you find so amusing, while we are in the middle of an important meeting?” Elara stiffened, her head snapping toward Damien, her annoyance plain as she narrowed her eyes at him. He met her stare deliberately, holding it just long enough for a wicked smile to form before he finally turned lazily toward her father. “Nothing,” he said, voice casual, almost mocking. “ At that moment Victor’s hands clenched against the table, his patience unraveling. “And may I also know why you’re even here instead of your father? And If neither of you don't intend to take this meeting seriously, then perhaps you’d better drop it and allow others have a chance at it. Because I will not sit here and tolerate this level of insolence from you or your father any longer.” The air in the room grew taut, heavy, but Damien only leaned back further in his chair, one brow arched, his smirk deepening as he replied flatly, “Whatever, old man.” Gasps rippled across the table, and Victor’s face turned crimson with restrained fury, yet Damien didn’t care. His eyes dropped back to his phone, thumbs moving as though the meeting around him didn’t exist at all. Elara kept her expression neutral, though she could feel the weight of her father’s anger boiling beside her. Her pen dug into the paper before her, her annoyance spilling in the tightness of her grip. All through the meeting, she couldn’t help but notice how her father’s eyes kept returning to Damien, sharp, scathing, and furious. And Damien, oblivious and arrogant, never once looked up.