Crossed Lines의 모든 챕터: 챕터 41 - 챕터 50

POV: Damon Damon rarely allowed himself distractions during board meetings. The Duval Holdings dossier should have commanded his full attention. Mergers, asset flows, Clarisse’s latest power grabs. But today, the numbers blurred at the edges, replaced by the image of dark eyes that refused to yield. Elara. He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. She had no idea the kind of storm she had stepped into by brushing against his world. And yet, instead of removing her, he found himself altering the currents. Not to destroy her. Not yet. To keep her in play. It was a dangerous indulgence. One he would never admit aloud. His executives spoke around him, waiting for his judgment. He gave it, precise and cutting as ever, but his mind was elsewhere. The girl who hacked CrossTech’s systems, who had slipped into his arena and left her mark, was also the woman whose every glance made his control tighten by a fraction. That duality fascinated him. And fascination was not a luxury Damon

POV: Damon The door shut behind Elara with a muted click. For a long while, Damon didn’t move. Her presence lingered in the air, her perfume, her sharp defiance, the tremor in her voice when she told him he wouldn’t use her. She thought she had hidden it, that flicker of heat beneath her anger, but Damon had built an empire on noticing the things people tried hardest to bury. He walked back to the desk and picked up the folder she’d left. The numbers were there, clean and precise, but his eyes barely skimmed them. CrossTech and Duval Holdings on paper, the collaboration was perfect. He had orchestrated it that way. A merger of power, reputation, reach. A move to tighten his grip on the board. But even as the numbers aligned, his mind refused to stay on the deal. It went back again to her. To the fire in her eyes when she said, “I’m not one of your acquisitions.” Damon exhaled slowly, setting the folder down with deliberate care. That was the problem. Elara Duval wasn’t like the o

POV: Elara The elevator doors sealed shut with a metallic click, cutting off the boardroom, Clarisse’s gaze, and the suffocating weight of Duval Holdings’ politics. For a brief, fragile second, Elara let herself breathe. Then she realized she wasn’t alone. Damon stood beside her, his reflection a tall, sharp silhouette against the steel walls. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, but the space between them felt charged, too narrow for comfort, too intimate for safety. Elara shifted, fixing her eyes on the glowing floor numbers. “You didn’t have to stage that little power show in front of everyone.” Damon’s reply was low, steady. “I didn’t stage anything. I simply don’t waste time hiding what’s already inevitable.” Her head snapped toward him, heat sparking in her chest. “Inevitable? Don’t mistake one collaboration for control. Duval Holdings is still my family’s, not your latest conquest.” His eyes found hers, dark and unreadable. “I wasn’t talking about the company.” The words hit h

POV: Elara The city was still alive when Elara left Duval's holdings, but the lights blurred into smears of white and amber as she pushed through the crowd. Her heels clicked fast against the pavement, as though she could outpace the weight sitting in her chest. Damon Cross. Every encounter with him left her raw, as if he’d reached under her skin and stirred something she didn’t want to name. His words echoed still. ‘I know exactly what I want’. He had said it without hesitation, without shame. And it terrified her, because deep down, some part of her wanted to believe he hadn’t just meant business. She hated herself for that flicker of hope. Elara reached her apartment, dropped the folder on her desk, and collapsed onto the couch. Her phone buzzed; a message from Hailey. Don’t let him corner you. Remember, you’re not his pawn. Her fingers hovered over the screen but she didn’t reply. If she answered, she’d have to admit how close Damon had come to unraveling her composure. Ins

POV: Elara The boardroom smelled faintly of polished oak and ink. Light spilled through the tall windows, too bright, too sharp for the dull throb at the back of Elara’s mind. She hadn’t slept well, not after last night. Not after his words. ‘Because I don’t want to’. They kept replaying in her head like a loop she couldn’t switch off, dragging her into a restlessness she hated. She’d convinced herself the morning would strip it away. But the moment she stepped into the room and saw Damon already seated at the far end of the table, perfectly collected, it all came rushing back. “Miss Duval,” one of the Duval Holdings directors greeted warmly, gesturing toward the empty chair beside Damon. Of course. Elara forced her expression neutral as she slid into the seat, careful not to look at him. Still, his presence was a quiet gravity, steady, inescapable, pulling at the edges of her restraint. Henry Duval’s voice cut through her thoughts. “We’ll begin with the proposal review. CrossT