Close enough to Burn

Elliott’s POV

He caught me. I knew he would.

I didn’t even have time to shut the door before he walked in. One second I was frozen in front of that painting, and the next, Damien stepped inside like he already knew someone was snooping around.

His eyes met mine—not angry, but unreadable. There was something deep in them. Something heavy. Something like a secret held too long. My heart thudded painfully in my chest. I couldn’t breathe. 

The air felt thick and too still. “You weren’t supposed to be here. And yet… here you are,” he said, voice low—not sharp, not kind either.

“I— I’m sorry,” I stammered, glancing nervously at the painting that looked like me, then back at him. “I was just... looking for the light. The sunset from this angle looked beautiful and—”

He raised a hand, silencing me. “You found more than light,” he murmured. I swallowed. “Who painted them?” I asked. He walked past me, stopping in front of the unfinished portrait that looked so much like me.

“I did,” he finally answered.

 My breath caught.

“You’re the artist?” I asked, surprised.

“I used to be. Only when I needed to breathe.”

I didn’t fully understand what he meant, but it shifted how I saw the paintings. These weren’t just random strokes of color. 

These were pieces of him….emotions he couldn’t say out loud. I stepped closer, holding my camera like it could shield me. “Why me?” I asked.

He turned to me slowly. “I don’t know yet.”

The way he looked at me made my stomach flip. It wasn’t the look of a boss toward an employee. It felt more like… something unspoken. Something almost forbidden.

He stepped closer. My breath hitched.

Another step. I could smell his cologne—spice and something faintly citrus. He reached up and adjusted the strap of my camera gently, almost reverently.

“You wear this like armor,” he whispered. I tried to laugh, but my voice cracked. “It helps me see the world.”

“And what do you see now?” His hand drifted up to my face. The other stayed near my chest, just resting against the camera strap. His gaze locked with mine, and suddenly all the rumors I’d heard made more sense. 

The whispers in the office. The headlines from years ago. The fiancée who disappeared, the parties he stopped attending with dates.

“I see you,” I blurted. Then I immediately regretted it. Damn it. He didn’t move away. Instead, the space between us disappeared. One of his hands dropped to his side, the other caressed my face softly—too softly.

I thought he was going to kiss me. And for some reason… I didn’t pull away. A dangerous heat pulsed between us. Then, just as our lips were about to meet—

His phone rang.

Reality snapped like a rubber band.

He blinked, like waking from a trance, and took a step back. The spell broke. He checked the screen. His jaw clenched, and something dark clouded his expression.

“Excuse me,” he muttered and walked out, phone pressed to his ear. I stood frozen, my breath shaky, pulse still racing. What the hell just happened?

I followed his voice down the hall, not meaning to eavesdrop—but the door was already slightly open.

“I told you, Celeste,” Damien said sharply. “This isn’t the time.”

Celeste. His ex-fiancée.

She had been the perfect woman on paper—elegant, poised, everything I wasn’t. But even during the brief times I’d heard about her, something always felt... off. Like their relationship had been curated, not lived.

“No, I haven’t made any decisions yet,” he continued. 

“The board’s already breathing down my neck… I’ll call you back.”

A moment later, he stepped into the hallway again. His expression is now unreadable. I quickly stepped away so he wouldn’t know I overheard.

He noticed anyway.

“Elliott,” he said, his voice calmer now, but… weary.

“Yes?” I replied, trying to hide how rattled I was.

“I need to talk to you.”

He didn’t wait for a response, just turned and walked toward his office. I followed him, confused and still processing what almost happened.

He gestured for me to sit. I obeyed, clutching my camera in my lap like a lifeline. Then he dropped it.

“The board wants me to clean up my image,” he said flatly. “After Celeste left, everything unraveled. Investors pulled back. People talk. Rumors spread.”

I didn’t ask what rumors. I already knew.

“That’s not fair,” I said softly.

“Fair doesn’t matter in business.” He leaned forward, voice steady. “Which is why I need you.”

I frowned. “Me?”

He held my gaze. “I need you to pretend to be my partner. Publicly. Just until the merger goes through.”

My heart thudded. “Sorry—what?”

“A fake relationship. For the public. For the media. Just long enough to rebuild confidence.” I laughed, startled. 

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“Why me? You could hire someone. A model. An actor. 

Hell, even Celeste again.”

“I’ve already hired you. And you're already in the narrative. The rumors… they’ve been circling for years. You being here just adds to it. The ‘private CEO finally opening up to his photographer’—that’s media gold.”

My mouth felt dry. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.“There won’t be anything real. No expectations,” he added quickly, though I caught the way his eyes lingered on my mouth again before flicking away.

“Just appearances. Photos. A show.”

“And you think I’ll just agree?” I asked, standing up. “To be your distraction?” He rose too. “I’ll pay you. More than I already do. Name your price.”

My mind swirled. He wasn’t doing this because of me. Not really. This wasn’t about feelings. This was about perception. Reputation. Image. About burying what the world already suspected.

“You’re asking me to become part of a lie,” I said quietly.

“I’m asking you to help me protect what I’ve built.” We stood in silence. But somewhere inside me, something stirred. 

The forbidden nature of it. The closeness. The way he said my name. A part of me, small but real, wasn’t completely against it.

But I wasn’t ready to say yes.

“I need air,” I said, stepping toward the door.

He didn’t stop me. But just before I left, he said one last thing.

“I meant what I said in the art room, Elliott. I don’t know why it’s you… but it is you.”

I didn’t turn around.

Because if I did, I might not walk away at all.