CHAPTER 7: YOU STILL SMELL LIKE ME

The next morning, I arrived at Hart Group determined to prove that a message had not changed anything.

He was already in the office when I stepped out of the elevator. He looked up from a file, and his expression shifted when he saw me.

"Good morning, Elena."

"Good morning."

"I got your message last night."

"That was not an invitation to discuss it in the hallway."

"Understood. I will wait until you choose to discuss it."

I buried myself in work, revising the presentation and sending updated figures to the team. Still, my attention kept drifting toward the man behind the glass.

Around noon, Sade appeared beside my desk carrying two coffees and a paper bag.

She opened the bag. The smell of warm pastry drifted between us. "Eat something before you turn into one of those people who survives on ambition and caffeine."

"I had breakfast."

"Coffee is not breakfast, Elena." She grinned. "Now, how was dinner?"

"How do you know about dinner?"

"My brother spent half the morning looking far too pleased with himself. You did not have to tell me."

"He cooked. We talked. I liked it."

Sade softened. "He is not always good at showing what he feels. He thinks being in control will stop him from getting hurt."

"I am not asking him to change his whole life for me."

"You are asking him to let you choose for yourself. That might be harder for him than you think." She squeezed my shoulder. "Do not punish yourself for liking someone. You have been through enough already."

At the end of the day, I finished the presentation and gathered my bag.

Damian emerged from his office as I reached the elevators.

"Long day?" he asked.

"Productive. You should be going home too."

"I was about to."

We entered the elevator together. The doors closed, and the small space seemed to shrink around us. I stood near the control panel while Damian kept a respectful distance beside the opposite wall.

For several floors, neither of us spoke. His familiar scent brought back the evening I had tried to convince myself meant nothing.

Then the elevator jolted.

The lights flickered once and went out. A dim emergency lamp came on overhead, painting the walls in muted gold. The car stopped between floors.

I caught the rail. "What happened?"

Damian pressed the emergency button. A crackle answered, followed by a voice assuring us that building security had been notified.

"How long will we be here?" I asked.

"They did not say."

"Are you frightened?"

"No. I dislike being trapped."

"We are safe," he said softly. "I will stay right here until they get us out."

He did not move closer. Even now, he was giving me room.

"Why are you being so careful with me?" I asked.

"Because I know what it feels like when someone decides they know what is best for you. I do not want to become another person who takes your choices away."

"You make it difficult to keep my distance."

"I am trying not to make it difficult at all."

"That is not what I meant."

His eyes found mine. "I know."

I remembered his kitchen and the way he had told me I owed him nothing. I had spent so long believing every kindness came with a price that I could not accept one without searching for the bill.

"Damian," I whispered.

He waited.

I took one step toward him. "If I ask you to kiss me, will you?"

His expression changed. "I will, but I need you to be sure."

"I am sure I want you to stop asking me to be brave while you stand there looking at me like that."

A startled laugh escaped him. Then he lifted his hand slowly, giving me time to change my mind. I did not. His fingers brushed my cheek, and the tenderness undid the last of my caution.

I closed the distance between us.

His mouth met mine, gentle for one heartbeat, as if he was still asking permission. Then I curled my hand into his jacket and kissed him again. His arm came around my waist, holding me close without trapping me. The kiss deepened, carrying all the longing I had tried to bury.

When we finally drew apart, his forehead rested against mine.

"You still smell like me," he whispered.

"Maybe you are the one who keeps getting too close," I murmured.

"Maybe I am."

The elevator shuddered back to life. Neither of us moved until the lights brightened and the car began to descend.

The doors opened into the empty lobby. Damian stepped back, giving me space, but the warmth of his hands lingered at my waist.

"Good night, Elena," he said, his voice lower than before.

"Good night, Damian."

I made it three steps before he called my name. I turned back.

"Tomorrow, I need you to remember something."

My heart tightened. "What?"

"Whatever happens between us, do not mistake my restraint for a lack of feeling."

I nodded and walked out.

That night, I lay awake remembering the kiss and the way he had waited for me to choose him.

The next morning, I arrived early, determined to act as though nothing had changed.

I had barely reached my desk when the receptionist called.

"Elena, someone is here asking for you."

"Who?"

"Daniel."

My stomach dropped, and I stood completely still.

I looked toward Damian, who watched me through the glass wall.

Then Daniel stepped into view, holding the engagement ring I had returned and wearing the same charming smile that had once made me believe every single promise he had ever made.

"Elena," he said, approaching me. "Please. Just give me five minutes."

Behind him, Damian rose from his chair.

Daniel followed my gaze and gave a bitter laugh. "So it is true. You replaced me with your billionaire boss."

Damian opened his office door, and his expression promised this would be more than an apology.