CHAPTER FOUR: FRIDAY
1764 Words
Friday came too fast.
Tessa hadn’t slept in three days. Not real sleep. Just hours of staring at the ceiling, listening to Zara’s breathing on the couch, and watching the red dot of her laptop charger blink in the dark.
Her eyes burned. Her head felt heavy.
On the screen, Hale’s Q4 files sat in a folder she refused to open. Encrypted. Locked. A digital bomb with Victor’s name on it. He wanted it by midnight. No excuses.
Damian wanted her in his office at 7 AM. Also no excuses.
She chose Damian.
It wasn’t a hard choice. It was the only one that didn’t make her stomach twist into knots. Victor would ruin her. Damian… Damian scared her for a different reason.
She didn’t trust herself around him.
---
*7:02 AM. Vance Holdings, 30th Floor.*
The city was still grey outside the glass walls. Rain streaked the windows like someone had dragged wet ink down the panes. Abia traffic was already loud thirty floors below, but up here, it was just glass and quiet.
Damian was already there.
No jacket. Shirt sleeves rolled to his forearms, exposing the faintest shadow of a tattoo on his inner wrist she’d never seen before. The same look from the other night that had made her forget how to breathe in the elevator.
A coffee sat untouched on his desk. Black. Cold, probably. He hadn’t touched it.
“Ms. Moore,” he said without looking up from the tablet in his hands. His voice was low. Controlled. “Close the door.”
She did.
The sound of it clicking shut felt final. Loud in the quiet office. Like a cell door.
“Victor contacted you.”
It wasn’t a question.
Tessa froze halfway to the chair across from his desk. Her portfolio bag slipped off her shoulder. She didn’t pick it up. “I—”
“Don’t lie to me.” He finally looked up.
Grey eyes. Exhausted. Angry. And something else underneath that she couldn’t name and was afraid to.
“He was at the gala. Marcus delivered something to your building last night. A package. I want to know what’s in it.”
Tessa’s mouth went dry. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Her hands clasped in front of her so he wouldn’t see them shake. “I don’t have it.”
“Then what does he have on you?”
Silence stretched between them. Thick. Heavy.
Damian stood.
He came around the desk slowly. No rush. Like a predator who already knew the room had no exits and the prey had nowhere to run. Every step made her pulse jump. Her heart was too loud in her ears.
He stopped a foot away.
Too close for a boss. Too far for what her body was screaming for.
“Your sister,” he said quietly. The words landed like a fist to her chest. “Is that it?”
Her breath hitched. “You can’t—”
“I can do a lot of things, Tessa.” His voice dropped. Lower. Rough at the edges, like he hadn’t used it in hours. “I can protect her. I can protect you. I have the resources, the lawyers, the best pediatric pulmonologists in Lagos on retainer. But I won’t do it if you keep lying to me.”
Her hands shook. She hid them behind her back, gripping her own wrist hard enough to bruise. “I’m not—”
He reached out.
His thumb brushed her jaw. Just once. Barely a touch. The lightest pressure, like he was testing if she was real.
Her whole body went hot. Her knees almost gave out. She had to lock them to stay standing.
“Tell me,” he murmured. His gaze never left hers. Dark. Intense. “Before I make you.”
The air between them went thick. Heavy. Impossible to breathe in without tasting him.
Tessa stared at his mouth. It was a mistake. She knew it was a mistake the second she did it. His lips were a fraction parted. She could see the tension in his jaw.
“Damian…” His name left her lips without permission. A whisper.
His eyes dropped to her mouth. “Say my name again.”
“Damian.” Softer this time. Closer to a plea.
That was it.
He closed the distance.
His hand went to her nape, fingers threading into her hair at the base of her skull. Not rough. Desperate. Like he’d been holding back for days and the leash just snapped and he couldn’t find it again if he tried.
His forehead touched hers. She could feel the heat of him. The tension vibrating under his skin. He was shaking. Barely.
“You’re killing me,” he said against her mouth. His breath was hot, shaky. “Do you know that? Every day you walk into this building, you’re killing me.”
She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her hands had a mind of their own and were gripping the lapels of his shirt, twisting the fabric.
His lips hovered. One inch. Maybe less. She could feel him. The heat. The restraint. The war he was fighting with himself written all over his face.
The office door opened.
“Mr. Vance, the board—” Ms. Harrington stopped dead in the doorway.
Tessa jumped back like she’d been burned. Her heart was in her throat. Her face was on fire.
Damian didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. His jaw was tight enough to crack. “Out.”
Ms. Harrington didn’t argue. She left. Fast. The door clicked shut behind her like a gunshot.
Silence again. Worse than before. Humiliating.
Damian stepped back. Put three feet of air between them. It felt like a mile. An ocean. “Go home,” he said. His voice was rough. Frayed at the edges. “Now.”
“Damian, I—”
“Now, Tessa.” He turned away, hands braced on the back of his chair. Shoulders tense. “Before I forget why I can’t touch you.”
She ran.
She ran past Ms. Harrington, past the assistants, past the elevator and took the stairs. Because she couldn’t be trapped in a small box with her own heartbeat.
---
*11:47 PM. Her Apartment.*
Her phone had been buzzing for an hour. Nonstop.
Victor: _“Midnight, Tessa. Files. Or Monday, Zara loses her spot at St. Catherine’s. Your choice. Don’t test me.”_
Zara slept on the couch, curled under a thin blanket that was too small for her. Her inhaler sat on the coffee table next to a half-empty glass of water. The sound of her breathing was the only thing keeping Tessa sane. In. Out. In. Out.
Tessa’s hands hovered over her keyboard. One click. That was all it would take. Send Hale’s files to Victor’s encrypted email. Betray Damian. Save Zara.
Her finger trembled over the trackpad. Sweat made it slip.
She couldn’t do it.
She couldn’t look Zara in the eye tomorrow if she did.
The doorbell rang.
11:58 PM.
She opened it.
Damian.
No driver waiting downstairs. No suit jacket. White shirt untucked. Top two buttons open. Hair a mess like he’d been dragging his hands through it for hours. He looked wrecked. Undone. Human.
“You didn’t send them,” he said.
It wasn’t a question.
“How did you—”
“I have eyes on Victor’s servers.” He stepped inside without waiting for an invite. “You didn’t send them. Why?”
Tessa shut the door. Locked it. Her back hit the wood. “Because you didn’t drop me by Friday.”
Damian went still.
The apartment was small. Too small. The couch. Zara sleeping. One lamp on, casting everything in gold. The smell of Zara’s kids’ shampoo in the air.
He looked at Zara, then at Tessa. Something in his face broke. Cracked right down the middle.
“You should’ve,” he said. His voice was quiet. “It would’ve been easier. Safer. For you.”
“Don’t.” Her voice cracked. “Don’t say that to me. Don’t make it sound like I’m stupid for—”
He crossed the room in two steps.
His hands were on her face. Not gentle. Not careful. Real. Human. His thumbs brushed her cheekbones like he was memorizing her, like he was afraid she’d disappear.
“Tessa.” His thumb dragged over her lower lip. His eyes were black in the lamplight. “If I kiss you right now, I’m not stopping.”
Her pulse was in her throat. She could barely think past the sound of her blood. “Then don’t stop.”
That was all he needed.
He kissed her.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t office-professional. It was days of restraint snapping all at once. His mouth was hot, demanding, like he was punishing her and saving her at the same time. His hand went to her waist, pulling her flush against him until she could feel every inch of him. Every line.
Tessa gasped into his mouth. Her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, like she was afraid he’d vanish.
He broke away for one second. Only one. His forehead against hers, both of them breathing hard. “Tell me to stop.”
She didn’t.
He kissed her again. Harder. Walking her back until her knees hit the couch. He went down with her, careful of Zara on the other end, but not careful with her. Not anymore. His weight was solid, grounding.
His lips moved to her jaw. Her neck. “You’re mine,” he muttered against her skin. His voice was wrecked. “Say it.”
“I—”
“Now.”
“Yours,” she whispered. The word tore out of her.
He groaned. His hand slid under her shirt, palm hot against her ribs. She arched into him without thinking.
The apartment was too small. Too close. Too dangerous.
His phone buzzed. Once. Twice.
Damian froze. His forehead against hers. Breathing hard. Shaking.
“Damian?” she whispered.
He pulled back. Eyes dark. Lips swollen. Chest heaving. “I have to go.”
“What?” The word came out broken.
“Victor.” He stood, dragging a hand through his hair. “He’s at the hospital. With Zara’s doctor. I just got the alert.”
Tessa was on her feet instantly. “What? No—”
“Coat. Now.” He was already at the door, hand on the knob. “We leave in thirty seconds.”
- Writer
