Bound to the billionaire

The gateway

Amira pov

26

The sound of the jet’s engine hummed softly beneath us, steady and low, like it was trying to fill the silence that neither of us dared to break.

I sat across from Damien, the glossy leather seat cool under my palms. The private plane felt too quiet the kind of quiet that made every little thing louder: the faint rustle of a newspaper in his hands, the soft clink of ice melting in my glass, the uneven rhythm of my own heartbeat.

Grandma had insisted on this getaway “a weekend to unwind, to reconnect.” Her words still echoed in my head. I’d tried to tell her it wasn’t necessary, that Damien was far too busy, but she didn’t listen. And somehow, she’d convinced him.

Now, here we were, thousands of feet above the g be round, pretending everything was normal.

I glanced at him. He looked impossibly composed crisp white shirt, black watch glinting under the cabin lights, eyes fixed on the document in front of him. The perfect picture of focus.

Except… there was something off today. His shoulders seemed heavier. The last few days had taken their toll the rumors, the headlines, the whispers. Even if he’d pretended not to care, I could tell he did.

“You can relax, you know,” I said quietly, trying to sound casual, even though I could barely look at him.

He didn’t look up. “I’m fine.”

“Sure you are.”

He flicked a glance at me brief, unreadable before going back to his papers.

The silence came back, thicker this time. I sighed, turning to the small window beside me. Clouds stretched endlessly, painted gold by the setting sun. It was beautiful up here. Peaceful.

If only my chest didn’t feel so tight.

I still remembered the way he’d defended me at that conference the power in his voice, the way he’d cut down that reporter like a blade. For a moment, I’d seen something real in him not the cold businessman, but a man who felt.

And now, sitting across from him, I wished I could thank him again. Properly. But every time I tried to speak, my throat locked.

The flight attendant appeared a few minutes later, setting down two plates of food. “Dinner for you, Mr. and Mrs. Cole.”

Damien nodded politely. I murmured a thank-you.

The food smelled incredible roasted salmon with lemon butter and sautéed vegetables but I barely touched mine. My stomach was too tangled to eat.

After a while, he finally spoke. “You should eat.”

“I’m not that hungry,” I said softly.

He didn’t push. Just looked at me again a flicker of something in his eyes I couldn’t name before returning to his meal.

The rest of the flight passed like that words unsaid, thoughts too loud, the distance between us a living thing neither of us could ignore.

When we finally landed, the sun was dipping low over the countryside. A car waited for us on the tarmac, and we drove through winding roads lined with old oak trees until the villa came into view.

It was beautiful a secluded estate nestled between hills, surrounded by wildflowers and soft evening mist. The air smelled like lavender and rain.

“Grandma really outdid herself,” I muttered under my breath.

Damien didn’t answer, but I saw his lips twitch slightly almost like a smile that never made it out.

The caretaker, a kind woman named Eliza, greeted us warmly. “Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Cole. Everything’s prepared for your stay. Dinner will be ready in an hour. You’ll find your suite upstairs.”

I froze at the word suite.

Not rooms. Suite. Singular.

When she left, I turned to Damien. “Did you know…?

“One bed,” he said flatly, finishing my thought. “Of course she arranged that.”

I tried not to laugh, but it came out anyway small, tired, but real. “She’s relentless.”

His gaze softened, just barely. “That’s one word for it.”

Inside, the suite looked like something out of a dream soft cream curtains, candles by the bathtub, a balcony overlooking the lake. The bed was huge, draped in white linen and rose petals that screamed Grandma’s doing.

I walked to the window, pushing the curtain aside. The sun was melting into the horizon, leaving streaks of pink and orange over the hills. For a moment, I forgot to breathe.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.

Behind me, Damien’s voice was quiet. “Yeah. It is.”

When I turned, he wasn’t looking at the view.

He looked away the second our eyes met, clearing his throat. “You can take the bed. I’ll stay on the couch.”

“Damien”

“It’s fine, Amira.” His tone softened slightly. “Get some rest.”

He was always like this polite, controlled, just distant enough to make it hurt. I wanted to say thank you, but the words stuck.

Later, I changed into a light sundress and stepped outside. The pool shimmered under the moonlight, quiet and still. I slipped off my shoes, dipping my feet into the cool water. For a while, it was peaceful the kind of peace I’d been craving.

Then I heard footsteps.

“Couldn’t sleep?” his voice came from behind me.

I turned. “Could say the same to you.”

He walked closer, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly messy from the breeze. He looked less like the Damien Cole the world saw, and more like someone real. Someone almost… human.

For a while, we just stood there. The sound of the water between us, the night air thick with something neither of us could name.

Then I moved to stand, my hand slipping on the wet tile before I could fall, he caught me.

His hands were warm, steady, holding my waist just tight enough to steady me.

For a heartbeat, the world went quiet.

We were too close. His breath brushed my cheek, his heartbeat strong against my arm. I froze caught somewhere between fear and something I didn’t want to admit.

He swallowed, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Careful.”

“I’m fine,” I whispered, though my voice came out shaky.

He stepped back quickly, letting go. The space between us felt colder now.

“Goodnight, Amira.”

“Goodnight,” I said softly.

After he left, I stayed by the pool for a long time, trying to calm the chaos inside me.

That night, sleep didn’t come easily. The villa was quiet except for the distant hum of the crickets. Sometime past midnight, I heard movement.

I sat up slightly. Damien stood near the window, phone pressed to his ear.

“I don’t care about the rumors, John. Just find out who started them.”

“Yes… I know. But make sure her name stays out of the press. I don’t want her dragged into this again.”

My chest tightened. His voice was low, tired. The kind of tired that didn’t come from lack of sleep, but from carrying too much for too long.

Then I heard it.

“If Victoria’s behind this,” he continued, quieter now, “then she’s crossed a line I won’t forgive.”

I froze. Victoria?

The name meant nothing to me, yet the way he said it sharp, heavy, full of old anger made my stomach twist. Who was she? Someone from his past? Someone important enough to still make his voice sound like that?

I stared at the ceiling, pretending to sleep, my mind spinning with questions I had no right to ask. Whoever she was, the name lingered like smoke in the air, unsettling and strange.

He hung up a few moments later, but he didn’t move. Just stood there, staring out at the lake through the glass. The moonlight washed over his face, softening the sharp lines I’d grown used to the lines that usually hid everything.

I’d never seen him look so… lost.

For a moment, I wanted to sit up, to ask who she was, or maybe just to tell him that he wasn’t as alone as he thought. But I didn’t. Because Damien wasn’t the kind of man you comforted he was the kind you watched from a distance, quietly hoping he’d let you in someday.

Still, I watched him until he turned away and lay down on the couch, one arm draped over his eyes.

And in the dark, I whispered softly, even though he couldn’t hear me,

“Maybe you don’t have to fight everything alone.”

The words faded into the night, swallowed by silence.

And as I drifted off to sleep, I couldn’t help but think maybe this getaway wasn’t about reconnecting.

Maybe it was about learning how to see each other again, even after all the damage.