THE MAN WHO STOLE HER SMILE

THE RULE SHE BREAKS

Amara told herself she would not think about him today.

That was rule number one.

Rule number two was even simpler: avoid anything that has Damian Steele attached to it.

Unfortunately, life had a sense of humour she didn’t appreciate.

“Amara, you’re needed at the client site,” Lara called from across the office.

“What client site?” Amara asked without looking up.

Lara hesitated. “The Steele Group building.”

Silence.

Amara slowly lifted her head.

“…Say that again.”

Lara winced. “We didn’t know until this morning. The publishing project is temporarily coordinated from there.”

Amara closed her eyes briefly.

Of course it was.

Of course, the universe would drop her directly into the one place she wanted to avoid.

“I’m not going,” she said immediately.

“You are,” her manager’s voice cut in from behind her.

Amara turned sharply.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s part of the contract,” he said carefully. “We can’t refuse.”

Her jaw tightened.

“Fine,” she said after a beat. “But if I see him—”

“You will,” Lara muttered under her breath.

Amara shot her a look.

Lara smiled weakly. “Just saying.”

The Steele Group building looked like it belonged in another world.

Glass. Steel. Silence that felt expensive.

Amara hated it instantly.

The elevator ride up was worse.

Too quiet.

Too polished.

Too controlled.

Everything she disliked in one space.

When the doors opened, she stepped out and immediately felt it.

Eyes.

People noticed her.

Or, more specifically—noticed that she didn’t belong there.

She ignored it.

She was good at ignoring things now.

She ignored it.

She was good at ignoring things now.

“Ms. Amara?” a voice called.

She turned.

A receptionist smiled politely. “Mr. Steele is expecting you.”

Amara didn’t respond.

Of course he was.

The office floor was quieter than she expected.

Too quiet.

Like people were afraid of breathing too loudly.

She followed the assistant down a long corridor until they stopped in front of a large glass door.

“Go in,” he said.

Amara hesitated.

Then pushed the door open.

And stopped.

Damian stood by the window.

Back turned.

Hands in his pockets.

Like he had been waiting.

Like he knew she would come.

“Close the door,” he said without turning.

Amara didn’t move.

“I didn’t come here to follow instructions,” she replied.

A pause.

Then slowly, he turned.

And there it was again.

That look.

Calm. Controlled. Infuriatingly unreadable.

“You came,” he said.

“Not by choice.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you’re here.”

She stepped inside fully, shutting the door behind her with more force than necessary.

“Let’s get something straight,” she said. “I don’t like you.”

A faint silence.

Then—

“I noticed,” he replied.

That irritated her more.

“Good.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes.”

Another pause.

Damian walked toward his desk, but didn’t sit.

Instead, he leaned slightly against it, watching her.

“You’re defensive,” he said.

“I’m realistic.”

“You’re angry.”

“I’m honest.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “You don’t know me.”

“And I don’t want to,” she shot back immediately.

That should have ended it.

It didn’t.

Instead, something in his expression shifted—barely noticeable, but there.

A challenge.

“You say that like I’ve done something to you,” he said.

Amara laughed once, humorless. “You exist in my space without permission. That’s enough.”

A flicker.

Not anger.

Interest.

“Your space,” he repeated.

“Yes.”

“You’re in mine.”

That made her pause.

Just slightly.

Then she recovered. “I’m here for work.”

“So am I.”

“No,” she corrected sharply. “You’re here to control things.”

His gaze held hers.

Longer this time.

You think I enjoy control?” he asked quietly.

Amara crossed her arms. “Don’t you?”

A beat.

Something darker passed behind his eyes.

“I don’t enjoy anything,” he said.

That was the first honest thing he’d said.

And it unsettled her more than the arrogance.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The silence between them changed.

Less anger.

More awareness.

Too much awareness.

Amara broke it first. “Just give me what I need to do my job.”

Damian studied her for another second.

Then nodded slightly.

“Sit.”

“No.”

His brow rose faintly.

“I said no.”

A faint exhale left him.

“You argue with everything,” he said.

“And you assume too much,” she replied.

A pause.

Then, unexpectedly—

“You’re staying anyway.”

Amara narrowed her eyes. “Is that a threat?”

“No,” he said simply. “It’s efficiency.”

That word again.

Control.

Structure.

Rules.

She hated how calm he stayed.

Like nothing she said could shake him.

Like she was the only one reacting.

It made her want to push harder.

“I’m not easy to deal with,” she said.

For the first time, something almost like amusement flickered in his expression.

“I’ve noticed that too.”

That almost made her stop.

Almost.

But not enough.

“Then this arrangement won’t work,” she said firmly.

“It will,” he replied.

“How are you so sure?”

He straightened slightly.

And for the first time, his voice dropped—not cold, but quieter.

“Because you’re already here.”

Silence.

That landed differently.

Amara frowned slightly. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It does,” he said.

A pause.

Then, softer—

“It means you didn’t walk away when you had the chance.”

Her chest tightened.

She hated that he noticed that.

Hated more that it was true.

She turned toward the door. “This is a waste of time.”

“Amara.”

Hearing her name from him made her stop.

Not because it was strange.

But because it was too familiar.

Too deliberate.

She didn’t turn back.

“What?” she asked sharply.

A pause.

When he spoke again, his voice was calm—but different.

“Tomorrow,” he said, “you’ll come back.”

Amara scoffed. “I won’t.”

“We’ll see.”

That irritated her enough to finally face him again.

“Stop acting like you know me.”

A beat.

Then Damian said quietly:

“I don’t need to know you to recognize resistance.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“And what exactly am I resisting?”

A pause.

Longer this time.

Then, barely above a whisper—

“Me.”

The air between them shifted.

Not loudly.

Not dramatically.

But enough.

Amara didn’t respond.

Because if she did, she wasn’t sure what would come out.

Instead, she turned and left the room.

This time, he didn’t stop her.

But as the door closed behind her, Damian remained still.

Watching it.

Listening to the silence she left behind.

And for reasons he didn’t want to name—

it felt louder than anything else in his world.