Semua Bab IN THE SHADOW OF DESIRE : Bab 1 - Bab 10

The sun hadn’t even climbed past the rooftops when Amara’s phone began buzzing against the chipped nightstand. She groaned, burying her face into the pillow, praying it would stop. Clara’s muffled voice floated from the other side of the room.“Your phone’s about to shatter the table. Answer it before it vibrates straight through the floor.”Amara reached blindly, squinting at the glowing screen. An unknown number. Her thumb hovered, debating whether to ignore it. But something in her gut pushed her to swipe.“Hello?” Her voice was rough, sleep still clinging to her throat.“Is this Amara Blake?” A woman’s clipped, professional tone cut through the line.Amara sat up. “Yes. Who’s asking?”“This is Marissa, Mr. Damian Cole’s executive assistant. He would like to extend an offer of employment.”For a second, Amara thought she’d misheard. “I’m sorry - what?”“You met him yesterday at a café. He requires additional staff for a private event later this week and was impressed by your… profe

Amara woke before dawn, the mansion wrapped in stillness. For a moment, she forgot where she was - the plush bedding, the faint scent of lavender rising from expensive linens. Then memory rushed back: Vanessa’s cutting words, the glimmer in Damian’s eyes, the weight of a job that felt more like walking a tightrope blindfolded.She dragged herself out of bed, dressed, and slipped downstairs. The kitchen gleamed, more steel than warmth, but a plate of fresh pastries had been set out, untouched. She reached for one, only for a voice to slice through the silence.“You’re up early.”Amara was startled. Damian stood in the doorway, shirt sleeves rolled, tie missing, his usual armor undone. He looked… human, somehow.“Couldn’t sleep,” she admitted, trying to mask her surprise.He studied her, eyes sharp even in the half-light. “You’re not built for silence.”“What’s that supposed to mean?”“Most people can rest in comfort. You look like comfort makes you restless.”The words hit too close. S

The Cole estate transformed overnight. By the time the first guests arrived, the mansion looked less like a home and more like a cathedral carved from light. Chandeliers dripped crystal fire, violins bled through hidden speakers, and the scent of roses hung so thick it clung to Amara’s skin.She hovered near the edge of the ballroom, a clipboard clutched too tightly in her hand. Her rented gown - a deep emerald chosen by Vanessa’s assistant - fit her like a costume. Beautiful, yes, but not hers. She smoothed the fabric nervously, scanning the sea of black ties and glittering gowns.Clara would have laughed herself breathless if she could see her now. “My best friend, hobnobbing with billionaires. Don’t trip, Amara.”Across the room, Damian was already surrounded. He wore the suit like armor, midnight black with a tie sharp enough to draw blood. The powerful flocked to him, their laughter polished, their words empty. But his eyes… they were somewhere else, scanning, searching.Vanessa

The night stretched long and airless. Amara lay on her narrow bed, staring at the ceiling as Vanessa’s words looped like poison in her blood. Ask yourself what happens to people Damian can’t control.Sleep never came. When dawn finally slipped through the curtains, it felt less like relief and more like judgment. Her body ached from exhaustion, but her mind wouldn’t quiet.By the time she left her room, the house was stirring. Staff moved briskly through the halls, avoiding her gaze, as if the whispers from the gala still clung to her skin. In their eyes, she was no longer invisible. She was marked.In the kitchen, she busied herself with tasks no one asked her to do - arranging fruit, checking lists - anything to keep from thinking. But every sound seemed louder, every glance sharper.“Miss Brown.”The voice snapped through the air. Amara turned, pulse leaping. Damian stood in the doorway, sleeves rolled up, tie gone, as if sleep had been as elusive for him as it was for her. His pre

The silence in the house had become unbearable.Even the air felt heavy - like it was holding its breath.Every sound, from the distant ticking of the clock to the faint hum of the refrigerator, seemed louder in the emptiness. Amara sat curled up on the sofa in the living room, wrapped in one of Damian’s sweatshirts that still smelled faintly of him - expensive cologne, smoke, and something darker.It had been three days since he’d spoken more than two sentences to her. Three long, restless nights of walking past his study and hearing muffled voices - low, angry, never clear. Once, she thought she heard a crash. When she knocked, he didn’t answer.Now, she wasn’t sure if she was living with the same man she’d met weeks ago or a stranger wearing his face.Her fingers trembled as she scrolled through her phone. Vanessa’s name glowed on the screen like a wound she couldn’t stop touching. Their last text replayed in her mind again and again:“You think you know him, Amara. You don’t.”The