Charm

Chapter 4

The bell over the door jingled as Damien stepped into Reyes & Co. the next morning, right on schedule. He’d shown up alone, no entourage, which somehow felt more intimidating than if he’d brought an army of suits. Elena watched from behind the counter.

with his arms crossed, he scanned the space with the same detachment he probably used on failing investments.

“Cozy,” he said, the word dripping with disdain. His polished shoes looked ridiculous on the worn out hardwood. He picked up a dog-eared mystery novel from a display table, flipped it over, then set it back like it might contaminate him. “Cluttered chaos. Exactly what I expected.”

Elena’s jaw tightened. “Most people call it charm. But I guess charm doesn’t show up on your spreadsheets.”

He moved deeper into the store, his eyes flicking over the packed shelves, the mismatched armchairs, the handwritten recommendation cards. A few regulars glanced up from their coffees, whispering.

Mrs. Alvarez narrowed her eyes at him like he was personally responsible for every bad thing that had ever happened.

Elena followed, staying just close enough to make him aware of her. “The morning rush is over, but we still have storytime in ten minutes. You wanted the full experience. Try not to scare the kids.”

Damien turned, one eyebrow raised. “I’m not here to play along, Miss Reyes. I’m here to assess viability. This layout is inefficient. Foot traffic bottlenecks here—” He gestured toward the narrow aisle between fiction and children’s books.

“Storage wasted on that back room. And don’t get me started on the courtyard out back. Prime square footage doing nothing but growing weeds.”

Before she could fire back, the kids started filing in for storytime, backpacks thumping as they dropped onto the colorful rug. Elena shot him a warning look and moved to the front. She picked up *The Adventures of Benny the Bookworm*, her voice shifting into the warm, animated tone she used for the little ones.

Damien leaned against a shelf, arms folded, clearly planning to observe like this was some tedious board meeting. But as Elena read, doing the silly voices and making the kids giggle, something shifted. One of the boys near the front—maybe seven, missing a front tooth—leaned forward, eyes wide with wonder. Damien’s expression flickered. For half a second, the hard line of his mouth softened. Almost a smile.

Elena caught it mid-sentence. Her stomach did a stupid little flip she immediately hated. She finished the chapter, closed the book to applause, and handed off snack duty to her part-timer.

“See?” she said, walking straight up to him once the kids scattered. “That’s what you’re trying to destroy. Not just shelves. This.”

He straightened, the almost-smile gone like it had never existed. “Cute performance. Doesn’t change the numbers. This place barely breaks even. Without my offer, you’ll be closed in six months anyway.”

“Bullshit.” She grabbed his arm, big mistake, the muscle under her fingers was solid and pulled him toward the back door before he could shake her off. “Come see the courtyard. The one you called wasted space.”

The hidden garden was small but alive: string lights tangled in the ivy, mismatched tables, a fountain that gurgled softly. It was empty now, morning light filtering through the leaves. Elena shut the door behind them, the noise of the store cutting off.

“This is where we host author events, teen writing groups, quiet reading for people who need a break from the world. My mom planted that rose bush. My dad built the benches. You don’t get to call it wasted.”

Damien stepped closer, the space suddenly too small. “You’re emotional about dirt and flowers. I’m trying to build something that lasts. That employs hundreds. That actually moves the city forward.”

“Forward?” Elena’s voice cracked with anger. She poked a finger into his chest. “You mean your shiny tower where nobody talks to each other and everything costs triple what normal people can afford. You’re a soulless—”

He caught her wrist, grip firm but not painful. Their eyes locked. The air thickened, charged. His gaze dropped to her mouth again, longer this time. Elena’s breath caught. For one dangerous heartbeat, she thought he might kiss her. Or she might kiss him. Either option felt like stupid in there situation.

Instead he released her like she’d burned him and stepped back.

“Thirty days,” he said, voice rough. “Try harder than nostalgia and rose bushes, Miss Reyes. Or this ends exactly how I planned.”

He turned and shoved through the door, leaving her standing alone in the garden, heart racing and fury burning hotter than before.

But underneath it, something worse had cracked open. She wanted him gone. Needed him gone.