Chapter 3

Amara's POV 

Masks are easier to wear than people think.

Smile here. Nod there. Listen, don’t reveal. I’d practiced it for three years, long enough that sometimes I almost forgot what my real face looked like.

Here at ColeTech, the mask mattered more than ever.

By midweek, I’d memorized the rhythm of the twenty-second floor. Who took long lunches. Who whispered gossip over coffee machines. Who thrived on deadlines and who cracked under them. People thought information came from boardrooms and spreadsheets, but no, it came from watching. Listening.

And no one listened better than the girl with a polite smile and a notebook in her hands.

That girl was me.

I slipped into the role easily, playing the eager, competent new hire. I laughed when I was supposed to, asked questions that made me sound curious but not threatening, and impressed Kingston enough that he started dropping my name in meetings.

But no matter how well I wore my mask, there was one person who seemed determined to peel it away.

Damien Cole.

He didn’t hover, not exactly. But I felt his eyes more than once during those meetings. Cool, watchful, weighing me the way he weighed everyone: as if calculating value, risk, worth.

Every time our gazes met, my heart betrayed me, stuttering like a guilty secret. I hated that. Hated that a man I was here to destroy could make my body respond like it didn’t know better.

I reminded myself of my father’s last words, of my mother’s tears, of the way our house had emptied room by room as debt swallowed everything. He did this. Damien Cole.

And yet, when I passed him in the corridor, when his cologne lingered faintly in the air, when his voice cut through a meeting with calm authority, I had to fight to remember why I hated him.

Worse, I wasn’t sure the mask was protecting me from him anymore.

It felt like he was already looking past it.

Damn!

I hate him with passion.

Damien POV 

I’d seen a hundred employees wear masks.

Some wore masks of ambition, always smiling at the right people, always volunteering for the right projects. Others wore masks of loyalty, nodding along with whatever they thought I wanted to hear.

But Mara Vance… hers was different.

It wasn’t ambition. It wasn’t flattery. It was armor.

And the more I watched her, the more I wanted to know what she was protecting underneath.

She never tried too hard, never sought my attention. She asked questions, but they were sharp, strategic. She gave just enough to seem eager, but held enough back to make me wonder. Most people in this building wanted something from me. She acted like she didn’t.

And that unsettled me.

Because if she didn’t want my approval, what did she want?

During Wednesday’s strategy meeting, Kingston pitched a campaign idea. It was fine, safe, and predictable. The kind of thing most executives would nod through.

But I saw Amara’s expression, subtle as it was. A flicker of doubt in her eyes. A hesitation, quickly masked.

“Problem, Ms. Vance?” I asked, deliberately breaking the flow of the meeting.

Her head snapped up. Every eye in the room turned to her.

For a heartbeat, she looked caught. Then, slowly, she met my gaze, steady and unflinching. “With respect, sir… I think the concept is solid, but the execution doesn’t align with current market behavior. Customers don’t respond to broad messaging anymore. They want something sharper, something personal.”

The room went silent.

I leaned back, watching her. Brave. Smart. Risky. Most new hires would’ve kept quiet. She’d just challenged Kingston in front of me.

Kingston frowned, ready to dismiss her. But I raised my hand. “Go on.”

She spoke for three minutes, outlining a more targeted approach, confident without being arrogant, persuasive without being pushy. When she finished, I caught myself… smiling.

“Noted,” I said, and moved the meeting forward.

But inside, something stirred.

This woman wasn’t just another employee.

She was different. Dangerous. And I didn’t know why, but I couldn’t stop wanting to see what she would do next.

Amara's POV 

After the meeting, Kingston pulled me aside, his voice low and irritated. “Word of advice, Amara. Don’t try to outshine the room. Especially not in front of him.”

I lowered my gaze, feigning apology. “I didn’t mean…”

“Yes, you did,” he snapped, then sighed. “Look, you’re good. I’ll give you that. But Cole doesn’t like people stepping out of line. Watch yourself.”

I nodded, biting back the retort on my tongue. He had no idea. Damien Cole loved it when people underestimated him. And maybe, just maybe, he loved it when someone dared to stand toe-to-toe with him.

The dangerous part?

So did I.

Damien’s POV 

That night, long after the offices had emptied, I sat in my chair staring out at the city. Rain streaked the glass again, neon lights blurring into shadows.

I told myself I was reviewing numbers. But the truth was, my thoughts kept circling back to her.

Mara Vance.

The way she didn’t flinch under pressure. The way she looked at me, like she saw through me, even when she pretended not to.

She was a risk. I knew it. My instincts screamed it.

And yet, when the elevator chimed softly down the hall, signaling someone else was still here, I already knew who it would be.