Damian leaned against his desk, pretending to study the file as Elena continued speaking. Her voice was clear and concise, as it always was, but he barely registered her words. His mind was a battlefield of conflicting thoughts, a rare state for him.
She set another document in front of him, leaning slightly over the desk, and Damian caught himself holding his breath. The curve of her silhouette, the faint scent of her perfume—it all seemed designed to test his restraint.
"Is there anything else you'd like me to address in the merger report, Mr. Cross?" Elena asked, her voice breaking through his haze.
Damian cleared his throat, setting the file aside. "No, that's fine for now. I'll review the details later."
Elena nodded and straightened, smoothing her dress with a quick gesture that only drew his eyes lower. Damian cursed himself inwardly, pushing off the desk and walking toward the window, needing the distance.
The skyline stretched out before him, a city alive with possibilities. But even with the breathtaking view, he couldn't shake the magnetic pull of her presence behind him.
"I also need confirmation on the Baxter transaction," Damian said, his voice a touch sharper than usual. "Ensure the funds were transferred without delay."
"Already handled," Elena replied smoothly. There was a pause before she added, "Is everything all right, Mr. Cross? You seem... tense."
Damian turned, meeting her gaze. Her eyes were calm, probing, and he could see the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corner of her lips. For the first time, he wondered how much she saw—how much she knew.
"I'm fine," he said, his tone flat. But even as he spoke, he noticed the way her expression shifted, as if she didn't quite believe him.
She stepped closer, just enough to close the distance between them. Damian's pulse quickened, but he kept his composure.
"If there's anything you need," Elena said, her voice softer now, "you only have to ask."
Her words hung in the air, charged with something unspoken. Damian's jaw tightened, his mind racing as he tried to decipher her intent. Was this deliberate? Or was he imagining things, reading into a situation that didn't exist?
"Elena—" he began, his voice low, but he stopped himself.
Her eyes met his, steady and unwavering. "Yes?"
Damian didn't answer. Instead, he let the silence stretch between them, the tension thick and undeniable.
At that moment, the intercom buzzed, startling them both. Damian turned sharply, pressing the button.
"Yes?" he barked.
"There's an urgent call for you, sir," came the receptionist's voice. "It's regarding the Rawlinson deal."
Damian exhaled, grateful for the interruption. "Put it through," he said, before turning back to Elena.
"Thank you, Elena. That will be all for now," he said, his tone dismissive.
She hesitated for a fraction of a second, her eyes lingering on his, before giving a curt nod. "Of course."
As she walked toward the door, Damian's gaze followed her, his thoughts in turmoil. Just as she reached the threshold, she paused, turning back slightly.
"Let me know if there's anything else you need," she said, her tone laced with something he couldn't quite place.
And then she was gone, leaving Damian alone in the room, his mind reeling.
The call came through, but he barely registered the voice on the other end. His thoughts were consumed with Elena and the undeniable shift that had taken place between them.
For the first time in years, Damian felt like he wasn't in control.
And he wasn't sure whether that excited him—or terrified him.
As Damian hung up the phone after the urgent call, his mind momentarily distracted by the latest developments in the Rawlinson deal. He stood, stretching his neck and shoulders as he stepped out of his office. Elena was at her desk, typing away with her usual focus, her posture straight and composed.
He had planned to walk past her without a word, to keep the day as professional as possible despite the lingering tension. But as he moved by, something impulsive overtook him—a flicker of recklessness he couldn't quite resist.
His hand brushed against her as he passed, the contact deliberate yet casual. His palm landed on her hip, a tap that lingered just a moment longer than necessary.
Elena stiffened, her typing halting mid-keystroke. Damian stopped immediately, turning to her with a raised brow and a faint smirk.
"My apologies," he said, his voice calm but tinged with something else—something deliberate.
Elena turned her chair to face him, her expression carefully controlled. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Be more careful next time, Mr. Cross," she said, her voice cool and clipped.
Damian gave her a small nod, a faint glint of amusement in his eyes. "Of course," he replied smoothly before continuing down the hall, leaving her alone.
The moment he was out of sight, Elena let out a slow breath. Her hand trembled as she reached for her pen, gripping it tightly to steady herself. On the surface, she appeared composed, her professional demeanor intact.
But inside, her heart raced, her thoughts a whirlwind of exhilaration. She had spent years working beside Damian, years watching him move through the world with unshakable confidence and an aura of untouchable power. And for just a moment, she had felt the weight of his attention, the brush of his hand sending shivers down her spine.
She had been waiting for this—planning for it. The dress, the subtle shifts in her demeanor, the delicate balance of professionalism and allure—it had all been intentional. She knew Damian wasn't a man to be easily swayed, but she also knew how to play the long game.
And now, her patience was paying off.
Elena turned back to her work, a small, secretive smile curving her lips. Damian Cross had finally noticed her, and she wasn't about to let this opportunity slip away.