The boardroom felt colder than usual. Ava sat off to the side, pen in hand, jotting notes as Damon spoke about the latest numbers. His voice was steady, commanding—he never had to raise it to fill a room.That’s when Lena Voss leaned forward, her red nails tapping lightly on the polished table. A smile tugged at her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes.“Impressive recovery, Damon,” she said smoothly. “Though… I can’t help but wonder.”The room quieted, a dozen pairs of eyes shifting her way. Ava’s pen stilled.“Wonder what?” Damon’s tone was flat.“If your decision-making has been entirely… yours.” She let the words dangle, sweet and poisonous. Her gaze flicked toward Ava, just long enough to sting. “Some might say your new assistant has had a hand in shaping strategy. Quite a strong hand.”The air shifted—just slightly, but Ava felt it, the way curiosity stirred around the table. A few men leaned back, others exchanged quiet glances. The damage was small, subtle—but effective.Damon d
The elevator doors slid open with a quiet ding. Ava stepped out, coffee in hand, telling herself to breathe normal. Just another day at Blackwood Enterprises. Just work. Just Damon.But her chest still ached from the kiss. The way his mouth had felt—controlled but desperate—the way his hand had lingered on her face like he wasn’t ready to let go. She hated how much it haunted her.The bullpen was quiet, only a few assistants already at their desks. She glanced toward Damon’s office, not expecting him yet—he usually didn’t arrive until a little later, after his morning workouts.Except the light was already on.Through the glass wall she saw him at his desk, suit jacket off, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened. Papers scattered in front of him. His pen moved fast, jaw set tight.No trace of last night.When she knocked lightly on the doorframe, he didn’t look up. “You’re late.”Her lips parted in surprise. “I’m ten minutes early.”Finally, he raised his eyes. They were cool, sharp, too sha
Damon hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words to her all day. Not in the office, not in the meetings, not even in the car ride back. He wasn’t ignoring her—he was watching her. Every move, every glance, every time she shifted in her seat. It was worse than silence.Ava told herself it was fine. She’d handled worse before. But there was something about the weight of his eyes, the way he measured her like a weapon he wasn’t sure he wanted to use, that made her skin crawl.By the time evening fell, the building was empty. The staff had gone home, the city outside buzzing with nightlife, and still Damon hadn’t left. He’d buried himself in files, working with the kind of restless energy that wasn’t about the company at all.Ava lingered by her desk, pretending to sort through emails. Truth was, she couldn’t leave. Not when he was like this. Not when every instinct told her that walking out now would feel like surrender.Finally, his voice broke the silence, low and clipped.“You’re stil
The morning air in the office felt off—charged, like a storm waiting to break. Ava sat behind her desk, trying to look calm while her stomach knotted. Damon hadn’t said much since the night before, but the way his eyes lingered on her… it wasn’t the same.He came out of his office without warning, crisp suit, phone in hand, jaw set like stone.“Ava,” he said, sliding the phone into his pocket. His tone was clipped, almost dismissive, but his eyes were fixed on her. “Cancel my afternoon. You’ll be with me instead.”She blinked. “With you?”He didn’t answer the question. Just handed her a file—thick, heavy, stamped confidential. “I want you to negotiate this contract. Collins will give you the numbers. I’ll be watching.”Her pulse spiked. This wasn’t an errand. This was a minefield.“Me? Alone?” she asked, keeping her voice steady, like the idea didn’t terrify her.Damon’s mouth curved—barely a smile, more like a challenge. “Unless you’re not capable. In which case…” He let the sentence
The silence was worse than the shouting.Damon sat at the head of the long glass conference table, arms folded, eyes fixed on the numbers scrolling across the projection screen. He didn’t say a word, didn’t even tap his pen the way he usually did when irritated. Ava stood off to the side with the rest of the team, her notes ready, waiting for him to turn to her, ask for her input, something.Nothing.When the meeting ended, chairs scraped back, people scattered, and Damon’s voice cut through: “Ava. Stay.”Her chest tightened, but she kept her face steady. The room emptied, the door clicked shut. He didn’t look at her right away, just typed something into his laptop. The click of the keys was sharp, precise. Calculated.“You’re quiet today,” she said finally, hating the way it sounded like she was fishing.His gaze lifted, slow, deliberate. “Am I?”The look lingered—too long, too heavy. He wasn’t just looking at her. He was looking through her. And the worst part? Ava couldn’t tell wha
The office felt wrong the second Ava walked in. Phones rang too hard, footsteps moved too fast, whispers had an edge like knives. She slowed, clutching her bag tighter, eyes darting to the glass walls of the boardroom where Damon’s executives were already gathered, some pacing, some shouting into phones.“Monroe,” someone hissed as she passed. One of the junior analysts—pale, sweaty—shoved a folder into her hands. “Look. Just—look.”Her stomach dipped. She opened it. Forged contracts. Her signature at the bottom of one.Her hand trembled so slightly she forced her fingers tight to stop it.“Where did you get this?” she asked, her voice even, steady.“Floating in the system. Came through your access code,” the analyst whispered before scuttling away like he’d touched fire.Ava’s pulse hammered in her throat. Her access code? That wasn’t possible. She never—The boardroom doors burst open. Damon strode out, his jaw locked, black suit sharp as a blade. His eyes cut across the hall, pinni