Chapter 11

Sarah's POV

The office was quieter than usual today, humming with low voices, rustling paper, and the occasional phone ringing from across the hall, like everything was calm on the surface, but ready to snap.

I kept my head down, fingers tapping softly across the keyboard with one hand, while the other still bandaged rested uselessly on the desk, aching slightly under the pressure of silence.

The scent of fresh toner and coffee drifted through the air, and every so often I’d glance up and feel his eyes on me, like a shadow I couldn’t escape.

Matteo hadn’t spoken to me since that morning meeting, hadn’t even acknowledged the schedule I revised twice overnight, not even a sharp word or cold stare.

But I felt him.

Always.

Across the glass wall, beyond the door that separated him from everyone else, Matteo Russo still managed to haunt me even when he said nothing at all.

At exactly noon, the office started to shift people rising from their desks, grabbing coats, chatting about sushi or sandwiches, or whether they had time for a glass of wine with their Caesar salad.

I was just about to heat leftovers in the tiny break room microwave when Ryan appeared, smiling that easy, safe smile like I hadn’t just been living in quiet hell.

“Hey,” he said, nudging my elbow with a playful grin. “You want to get lunch with me today? Just the two of us I found this new café that isn’t swamped with brokers.”

I hesitated for half a second, lips parting, unsure if it would look… wrong.

But then I remembered how Matteo looked at me earlier like I was beneath him, like nothing I did mattered.

So I smiled and nodded. “Sure. That sounds great.”

From the corner of my eye, through the reflection of the office glass, I saw Matteo lift his head.

His jaw clenched.

Barely.

But I saw it.

As Ryan held the door open for me and I stepped into the hall, I could feel the heat of Matteo’s gaze on my back, burning through my blouse like silent fury.

The elevator ride down was light, full of casual jokes and easy chatter, the kind of peace I hadn’t known in weeks, and yet a piece of me still throbbed with tension I couldn’t name.

We were halfway down the block when it happened when a sleek black car pulled up beside the sidewalk and the back door opened before I realized anyone had even noticed us.

“Sarah Hart?” a voice called smoothly, commanding but not unfriendly, with a tone that suggested money, power, and something more dangerous beneath the surface.

I turned, confused.

Ryan took a step forward instinctively, like he was ready to protect me, but the man who stepped out of the car was already smiling like we’d known each other for years.

“I’m Damian Cross,” he said, offering his hand like a gentleman but holding my eyes like a wolf sizing up his prey. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you.”

I frowned, my instincts prickling, but I accepted the handshake. “I’m sorry do we know each other?”

“No,” he said smoothly, glancing at Ryan. “But I know Matteo Russo. And now I know you’re working directly under him which makes you very interesting to me.”

Ryan stiffened beside me, but I stepped forward, brows lifting. “I’m sorry, what exactly do you want from me?”

Damian smiled wider, and that was when I knew I wasn’t ready for whatever came next, not even close.

“I want to offer you something better,” he said calmly. “A role in my firm triple the pay, a corner office, creative control, and a clean break from Matteo’s shadow.”

I blinked.

It didn’t make sense.

Why would someone like him a stranger offer me a dream job out of nowhere?

He stepped closer, voice low. “You’re smart, Sarah. You don’t belong chained to someone who uses you like a pawn. Come work for someone who sees your worth.”

My pulse skipped.

I opened my mouth to respond but Ryan cut in, clearly uneasy. “Why would you poach Matteo’s assistant unless you’re trying to start something?”

Damian didn’t even flinch.

“Let’s just say I collect valuable assets,” he said, eyes never leaving mine. “And Sarah here? She’s more valuable than she realizes.”

I didn’t know what to say.

My mind was spinning triple the salary? Creative freedom? Out from under Matteo’s thumb?

It sounded too good to be true.

Too good to be safe.

Damian handed me a black envelope, sleek and thick, with my name embossed in gold lettering across the front like it had been waiting for me all along.

“Think about it,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I’ll expect an answer before Friday.”

He climbed back into the car, the door clicking shut behind him, and just like that the storm passed, leaving only silence and shock.

I turned to Ryan, stunned. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” he said, jaw tight. “But you need to tell Matteo.”

“Why?” I asked, heart pounding. “Why does this feel bigger than a job offer?”

Ryan didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he looked down the street then back at me.

“I think you just stepped into a war,” he whispered.

**

By the time we reached the café, my hands were still slightly trembling from the encounter.

Damian Cross.

His name alone carried weight, but the way he’d looked at me like I was a playing piece and a prize had sent a chill down my spine.

Ryan, ever the gentleman, opened the café door and gestured for me to go first. “Come on. Let’s shake that off. You need food and something with cinnamon in it. Doctor’s orders.”

The tension in my chest eased at his light tone.

Inside, the café smelled like brown sugar and espresso, the kind of cozy warmth that settled somewhere deep behind your ribs. It was all exposed brick, soft lighting, and indie music humming under the quiet clinking of cups and silverware.

Ryan picked a table near the window, out of the way, where the sunlight spilled in just right.

He grinned as we sat. “Okay, so… what are we thinking? Sweet or savory?”

I smiled, the stiffness around my mouth finally loosening. “Both. I deserve both after that weird Bond villain moment.”

He laughed, the sound boyish and contagious. “I like your logic. You know, you’re different when you’re not trying to survive a meeting or dodge Russo’s death glare.”

I blinked. “Different how?”

His eyes softened. “Like you can breathe.”

That caught me off guard. I opened my mouth to deflect to a joke, to deny but instead I just… smiled.

And it was real.

We ordered waffles, eggs, and two iced lattes. Ryan told me about his horrible upstairs neighbor who played drums at midnight, and I nearly choked laughing. I shared how I once got trapped in the copy room on my third day because the doorknob broke and nobody noticed I was missing for two hours.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t feel like I was surviving something.

I was living.

And laughing.

And it felt good.

“So,” Ryan said, leaning forward slightly as we finished our food. “Are you thinking about Damian’s offer?”

I looked down at the napkin I was folding, then back up at him. “I don’t know. I mean… It’s tempting. But it also feels… off.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Guys like him? They don’t give people power unless they plan to take it back later. With interest.”

“Exactly,” I said. “And I don’t trust people who smile too much when they talk business.”

He grinned. “So I should stop smiling now?”

I laughed, the sound catching in my throat. “No. You’re different.”

His gaze held mine, softer now. “So are you.”

Something warm passed between us unspoken but undeniable.

For a moment, I forgot about Matteo.

About everything.

And then my phone buzzed.

One message.

Unknown Number:

“Enjoying lunch with the enemy? Matteo won’t like that, sweetheart.”

My blood turned cold.

I glanced around the café, heart racing.

Someone was watching me.

And whoever it was…

They knew exactly what buttons to push.

I stared at the screen, heart thudding hard in my chest.

Enjoying lunch with the enemy? Matteo won’t like that, sweetheart.

My fingers tightened around my phone.

Every laugh I’d shared with Ryan suddenly felt distant like a memory too good to be real.

Ryan leaned in, catching the shift in my expression. “Sarah? What is it?”

I slowly turned the phone toward him.

His brows furrowed as he read. Then his jaw clenched. “What the hell…”

“I don’t know who it is,” I said, voice low. “But they’re watching.”

He glanced out the window instinctively, scanning the café with narrowed eyes.

I followed his gaze. Nothing seemed out of place. No shady figures in corners, no parked cars with tinted windows. Just sunshine and strangers.

But I knew better now.

Not everyone watching wants to be seen.

“You don’t think it was Damian?” he asked carefully.

I shook my head. “It doesn’t sound like him. He was bold. Too confident to hide behind texts.”

“Could it be…?” he hesitated. “Matteo?”

My chest tightened. “If he wanted to intimidate me, he’d do it to my face.”

Ryan leaned closer, his voice low. “Whoever it is, they’re trying to rattle you.”

“Well, it’s working.”

And just like that, the warmth of the afternoon vanished.

I was back in the game and I didn’t even know the rules.

The message echoed in my mind long after the screen went dark.

Enjoying lunch with the enemy? Matteo won’t like that, sweetheart.

Ryan looked concerned, but I couldn’t focus. Someone was watching close enough to know who I was with, bold enough to send a threat.

My stomach twisted, not from fear, but from the growing realization that this wasn’t just office politics anymore.

I was a target.

A pawn in a game I didn’t even know I’d been pulled into.

And for the first time, I wasn’t sure if Matteo Russo was the biggest threat in my life… or the only shield I had.

**

The walk back to the office felt longer than usual. Ryan stayed close, his usual easy confidence replaced by quiet alertness. Neither of us said much we didn’t need to. That message had changed everything.

By the time we reached the elevator, I’d tucked my phone deep into my bag, like hiding it could stop the unease crawling beneath my skin.

As the elevator doors opened to our floor, my pulse spiked. I stepped out first and instantly felt the weight of someone watching.

I turned.

Matteo stood by the glass wall of his office, arms folded across his chest, gaze pinned directly on me.

The world seemed to blur around us voices fading, footsteps slowing until there was just that stare. Hot. Cold. Unreadable.

Our eyes locked.

His expression didn’t shift, but something in his gaze flickered something dark, sharp, and dangerously close to unraveling.

I didn’t look away.

Not this time.

Let him watch.

Let him wonder.

Because if he wanted to play games, I was done being the quiet piece on his board.

Now?

I was learning how to move.

And maybe… just maybe… how to win.

Before I could take another step, a uniformed security guard approached, his face unreadable.

“Miss Hart?” he asked quietly.

I nodded.

“Someone is waiting for you outside,” he said. “Said it’s urgent.”

“Who could that be”?