THE MAN WHO STOLE HER SMILE

WRONG PLACE, WRONG MAN

Amara hated mornings that started with chaos.

And today was shaping up to be one of them.

“Tell me again why we’re rushing this manuscript?” Lara asked, walking fast beside her through the hallway of the publishing office.

“Because the client wants it edited by tomorrow,” Amara replied, not slowing down.

“Of course they do,” Lara muttered. “Rich people and their urgency.”

Amara didn’t respond. She was already mentally inside the work, where things made sense. Pages. Words. Structure. Things she could control.

Unlike people.

Especially men who stared too long.

She pushed open the office door—

And stopped.

The room had gone quiet.

Not normal quiet.

Respectful quiet.

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

That kind of silence only happened when someone important was present.

“Amara,” her manager called carefully, standing a little too straight. “We need you in the conference room.”

“Why?” she asked immediately.

No answer.

Just a glance.

A warning glance.

Her stomach tightened.

She walked in slowly.

And then she saw him.

Damian Steele.

Sitting at the head of the table like he belonged there more than anyone else in the building. Suit sharp. Expression colder than she remembered.

Her breath caught—but only for a second.

Then, it turned into irritation.

Him again.

Of all places.

Of all days.

Of all rooms.

“What is he doing here?” she asked flatly, not bothering to hide her tone.

The room went silent again.

Damian’s gaze lifted slowly.

And locked onto hers.

That same unreadable calm.

That same infuriating confidence.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said evenly.

Amara scoffed softly. “This is my workplace.”

“And I didn’t know you owned it,” he replied.

Something in his tone irritated her even more.

Lara leaned in slightly, whispering, “You know him?”

“No,” Amara said quickly.

Damian’s eyes flickered at that word.

No.

Like it bothered him.

Good.

The manager cleared his throat nervously. “Mr. Steele is considering investing in our publishing expansion project.”

Amara turned sharply. “And I’m supposed to care because—?”

“Because I’ll be overseeing it,” Damian finished for her.

Silence.

A very dangerous kind.

Amara blinked once.

Then twice.

“You?” she repeated slowly. “Overseeing us?”

“Yes.”

Her lips curved into something that was almost a smile—but not kind.

“I see. So you’re here to control people again.”

A faint shift in the room.

Damian’s jaw tightened slightly.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” she said, stepping forward. “You walk into places, take over decisions, sit at tables you weren’t invited to—and then act surprised when people question it?”

Lara’s eyes widened behind her.

So did the manager’s.

But Amara didn’t stop.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I don’t like it.”

Damian stared at her.

Long.

Still.

Then he leaned back slightly in his chair.

And for the first time—

a faint edge appeared in his voice.

“You talk a lot for someone who doesn’t know anything about me.”

Amara crossed her arms. “Then enlighten me.”

A pause.

The tension in the room thickened.

“I don’t waste time,” he said finally.

She tilted her head. “Clearly you do. You’re here.”

That landed.

Hard.

Lara almost choked.

Even the manager looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor.

But Damian didn’t react the way they expected.

He just… studied her.

Like she was the problem he hadn’t been warned about.

And somehow—

he didn’t dislike it.

“You’re difficult,” he said calmly.

Amara’s eyes narrowed. “And you’re arrogant.”

A beat.

Then—

“I’ve been called worse,” he replied.

“Lucky you.”

Their eyes stayed locked.

No one spoke.

No one breathed properly.

And neither of them looked away first.