It was the morning of my first executive meeting. Roth Enterprise had always felt intimidating, but today it felt immense. I was about to walk in with nothing but my trembling voice and the faint confidence Richard had planted in me.I had rehearsed my points in the bathroom mirror. I had whispered counterarguments to my reflection until my throat burned. But rehearsals never truly prepare you for the stage, and the boardroom was not a stage—it was an arena. I inhaled deeply, squared my shoulders, and pushed the doors open.Nervously, attending my first high stake executive meeting. Where the elites are gathered. I'm not here as an intern, I'm here as the project manager working along side Richard D. Morgan.The air in the executive boardroom was thin, sharp with tension. I sat at the glass table, clutching my notepad a little too tightly like my life depended on it.Around me, men and women in immaculate suits shuffled papers, exchanged clipped greetings, their conversations pruned
I got home that evening weak and drained, every bone in my body aching as though the day itself had wrung me out.The sunlight seared through my curtains, far too bright, far too cruel. I groaned, pulling the pillow over my head, but the pounding in my skull made it impossible to go back to sleep. Last night was a blur, Richard’s invitation, the gallery, my confession, Richard listening to me speak without criticizing or judging me. His conviction of yesterday still echoed in my chest.Dragging myself from bed, I quickly showered, pulled on my clothes and made my way to the office.By the time I arrived at the office, the coffee i took had dulled the headache, but nothing could dull the twist of awkwardness in my chest when I spotted a man across the room staring at me.“Selena,” Richard said, voice smooth but deliberate. “Sit.”I obeyed, perching on the edge of the chair like a schoolgirl about to be scolded. My palms itched.He didn’t hesitate. “How's the project coming on? He sai
The invitation came quietly, almost casually, though the weight of it sank deep into my chest. Richard had asked if I would accompany him to an art gallery opening. His tone had been even, almost professional, but there was a softness in his eyes that made me hesitate before answering. This was not business. This was not another strategy meeting or a late night at the office. This was him opening a door into a part of himself he rarely revealed, and the realization both thrilled and unnerved me. That evening, I stood beside him as we entered the gallery, my heels clicking against the polished wooden floors, my breath catching as the space unfolded around us. White walls stretched high, adorned with paintings that seemed to breathe with life. Sculptures stood in deliberate silence along the edges, spotlights casting dramatic shadows that made them appear almost alive. The murmur of guests filled the room, their laughter and quiet conversation weaving through the classical music that
The new project was nothing short of daunting. The folder Richard had given me was only the beginning. Within days it expanded into a mountain of documents, reports, and expectations that weighed heavily on my desk. The deal was with a major tech company whose innovations were making headlines across the globe. It was not just another contract. It was a partnership that could redefine Roth Enterprise’s position in the market, and by some twist of fate—or perhaps Richard’s deliberate choice—I had been handed the reins. Every morning I arrived earlier than most of the staff, the sun barely cresting the skyline, and already the folders seemed to glare at me from where they sat, daring me to prove myself worthy. My laptop hummed as I poured through research, reading case studies, analyzing competitors, drafting potential strategies. Hours blurred into days, and still the puzzle pieces felt scattered, too many to fit together. The more I worked, the more I realized how high the stakes t
The office smelled faintly of leather and paper, the sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows casting long shadows across Richard’s desk. I sat in the chair opposite him, my hands twisted together in my lap, the tension in my shoulders refusing to ease. He had been quiet for the past few minutes, sorting through a stack of thick folders, his brow furrowed in concentration. The silence stretched until I felt like I would break if I didn’t say something. Then, finally, he set one of the folders directly in front of me. His movements were deliberate, his expression unreadable. When he looked up, though, his eyes locked with mine, steady and unflinching. "This is a new project," Richard said, his voice calm but firm, carrying the kind of authority that left no room for argument. "And it’s all yours. You’ll be the lead." The words sank into me like stones, heavy and unexpected. My heart skipped and then stumbled into a rapid pace. My stomach clenched, a knot of nerves twi
The morning light poured through the glass ceiling of the Roth Enterprise lobby, casting long beams across the polished marble floor. The space was alive with motion—executives in sharp suits, assistants clutching files, interns hurrying with coffee trays. I moved quickly through the crowd, clutching my bag against my side, trying to make myself invisible in the tide of bodies. Then I saw him. Damien. He was leaning against the steel pillar near the center of the lobby, his posture deceptively casual, his dark eyes fixed on me like a predator who had already chosen his prey. The sea of people around him seemed to blur, their chatter and footsteps fading until it was only his presence I could feel—heavy, suffocating, inescapable. I slowed, my pulse hammering in my ears. Before I could take another step, he pushed off the pillar and cut through the crowd with sharp, deliberate strides. His tailored suit was immaculate, but his face was grim, carved from stone, and his gaze burned in