A Night With Mr. Woods

CHAPTER 7

The moment I stepped into the office the next morning, I felt it—the air thick with tension, as if the walls themselves were watching me. Damian’s office door stood slightly ajar, and I knew he was already inside. My stomach twisted with anticipation and nerves. I had to remind myself: I was just his assistant. Nothing more. Nothing personal. But the way my heart fluttered whenever I thought of him made that rule feel like a cruel joke.

I cleared my throat and stepped in. Damian didn’t look up immediately; his focus was on the paperwork sprawled across his mahogany desk. Even so, I could feel his eyes on me, sharp and calculating, the way they always were. I forced myself to keep my expression neutral, hiding the flood of emotions I was sure were written all over my face.

“Morning, Mr. Woods,” I said, my voice steady even as my pulse raced.

“Morning,” he replied, finally looking up. His dark eyes scanned me for a heartbeat too long, and I wanted to look away, but I didn’t. Something in his expression—was it recognition? Curiosity?—made my stomach tighten.

“I’ve prepared the schedule for the board meeting next week,” I said, moving closer with the folder in hand. I placed it on the edge of his desk, careful not to touch him. He didn’t reach for it, but I noticed his gaze linger on my fingers, on the subtle tremor I couldn’t hide.

“Good,” he said simply. He picked up the folder, flipping through it with precise movements. But his attention didn’t seem to be on the papers. My gut told me it wasn’t about the schedule.

“Is something wrong?” I asked before I could stop myself.

He paused and looked up, a faint frown creasing his forehead. For a moment, he seemed on the edge of saying something. Something important. But instead, he shook his head. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

I wanted to press further, to demand the truth, but I held back. The last thing I needed was him thinking I was trying to pry. Instead, I forced a smile and said, “I’ll make sure everything is ready for the meeting, then.”

He nodded, but the tension in the room didn’t dissipate. He went back to the papers, and I turned to leave, my mind spinning. Every time I tried to separate myself from him, something pulled me back—something I didn’t fully understand yet.

Later that afternoon, I found myself in the break room, trying to calm the whirlwind inside me with a cup of coffee. I had just taken a sip when Maya appeared, carrying her own mug like she owned the place.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“I feel like one,” I admitted, leaning against the counter. “I don’t know what’s happening between me and Damian. I know I’m supposed to act normal, but every time he looks at me, it’s like… something.”

Maya smirked knowingly. “Oh, honey. It’s more than something. Don’t tell me you’re still denying it—after everything?”

I shook my head, though part of me wanted to scream yes. “It’s complicated. He doesn’t even remember me from that night.”

“Maybe not yet,” she said, taking a slow sip of her coffee. “But people don’t forget like that. Not completely. Not someone like him.”

Her words didn’t comfort me. Instead, they stirred a mix of hope and fear. Hope that he might remember, fear that if he did, everything could change—and not necessarily for the better.

By mid-afternoon, I had barely touched my work. I kept sneaking glances toward Damian’s office, and each time I saw him—head down, focused, unknowing—I felt a pang of longing I couldn’t shake. I hated how powerless I felt. I hated that I still cared after everything.

Just as I was about to return to my desk, the office door swung open, and Damian stepped out. He held a small, plain envelope in his hand. The moment our eyes met, I froze.

“This came for you,” he said, his voice low and unreadable.

I blinked at him, confused. “For me?”

He nodded, holding it out. My fingers brushed his for the briefest second, and the electricity between us was undeniable. I tore the envelope open, revealing a single sheet of paper with a bold, unfamiliar logo at the top.

My heart stopped.

It wasn’t just a letter—it was a legal notice. One I never expected to see. My name was written in bold, black letters across the page, and the words beneath it made my stomach turn:

“You are being summoned for an urgent matter concerning your late father’s estate. Failure to appear may result in legal action.”

I looked up at Damian, who was watching me intently. For the first time, he wasn’t his usual controlled self. His expression was sharp, almost concerned.

“This… this can’t be real,” I whispered, my hands shaking.

“It is,” he said quietly. “And I think you should go. Now.”

“What? Why? What does this have to do with my father?” My voice cracked as panic set in.

Damian hesitated, his eyes darkening. “I can’t explain everything right now. But there are people who want to keep the truth from you. And if you wait… you could be too late.”

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. Too late for what? What truth? And why did it feel like his words carried a warning that went far beyond a legal notice?

“I don’t understand,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“You will,” he said, his tone sharper now. “But you need to trust me, Allison. Whatever happens… don’t ignore this.”

I clutched the letter to my chest, feeling a mix of dread and determination. I had no idea what I was walking into, but one thing was clear: my life was about to change. And this time, Damian was involved whether I liked it or not.

Before I could ask another question, he turned and walked back toward his office, leaving me alone in the hallway, the letter trembling in my hands.

I knew I should leave immediately, run to the address on the letter, and find out what was waiting for me. But a voice in my head whispered: Be careful. Not everyone who appears to help can be trusted.

I glanced back toward his office, half-expecting him to be gone. But through the glass, I caught a glimpse of him watching me. His eyes were dark, unreadable, and something in them warned me that whatever was coming, it wasn’t just about my father anymore.

My phone buzzed. I pulled it out, expecting a message from Maya or a reminder about work. Instead, it was an unknown number.

The message was short, but the words made my blood run cold:

“Stop looking into the Woods family, or you’ll regret it.”

I froze, my fingers gripping the phone so tightly it hurt. The letter, the warning, Damian’s strange behavior—it all collided into a single, terrifying thought: someone knew I was digging. Someone was already watching me.

And I had no idea who.