Ava had forgotten how suffocating Easton could feel when her mind wasn't sharp.
The polished floors, the gleaming glass offices, the constant low buzz of ambition—it used to make her feel powerful. Untouchable. Now it felt like walking through a life she no longer belonged to.
By the time she reached her office, she was already regretting coming in.
But she didn't have a choice. Not anymore.
If she wanted to survive this world—and survive the men circling her past and present—she had to keep moving.
The meeting with Damien was scheduled for three in the afternoon, but he was already waiting for her when she arrived at the private conference room.
She paused at the doorway, catching sight of him standing by the window, back turned to her.
Even without seeing his face, the effect was the same.
Damien Blackwood was a force, whether he meant to be or not.
And he still had a hold on parts of her she hadn't realized were vulnerable.
She hated him for that.
Almost as much as she hated herself for feeling it.
When he turned, their eyes locked.
No polite smiles. No rehearsed greetings.
Just a raw, quiet awareness hanging heavy in the room.
Damien motioned toward the chair across from him. "Sit, Ava."
Her name sounded different coming from him now. Rougher. Like a promise and a warning tangled together.
She walked in slowly, lowering herself into the chair but keeping her back straight.
She needed the distance.
Even if it was only pretend.
They spoke briefly about Easton's upcoming gala. About the partnership proposals still floating on the table.
Normal things.
Safe things.
But neither of them was really paying attention.
Every glance, every slight lean across the table, every pause after a simple word—it all spoke louder than the conversation.
When Damien handed her a file to review, their fingers brushed.
Just for a second.
But it was enough to send a crackle of heat up her arm.
Ava pulled back too quickly, knocking her pen onto the floor.
She muttered a curse and bent to retrieve it.
But Damien was faster.
Their hands collided under the table.
They both froze.
Ava's heart hammered against her ribs.
She looked up—and found Damien already watching her.
The air between them shifted, grew heavy, electric.
He didn't move his hand away immediately.
Neither did she.
For a moment, the world outside the glass walls vanished.
There was only this.
This reckless, dangerous pull she wasn't ready to name yet.
Damien cleared his throat first, breaking the tension.
Ava straightened sharply, the pen clutched in her hand like a weapon she didn't know how to use.
"We should focus," she said, voice too thin.
Damien sat back slowly, the ghost of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
"As you wish."
The rest of the meeting passed in a blur of words Ava barely remembered.
When she finally stood to leave, Damien moved too—too close, too fast.
He reached for the door before she could.
Opened it for her.
But as she stepped past him, his voice brushed against her ear, low and rough.
"You can keep pretending you don't feel it, Ava. But I'm not going anywhere."
She didn't turn around.
If she did, she wasn't sure what she might say—or worse, what she might do.
Instead, she walked away, heels clicking sharply against the marble, back stiff with the weight of everything she didn't dare admit yet.
By the time Ava made it back to her office, her pulse was still pounding.
She dropped into her chair and closed her eyes for a long moment.
Damien was a storm waiting to happen.
Julian was a safe harbor she didn't know if she deserved anymore.
And she? She was caught somewhere in between, drowning in feelings she hadn't given herself permission to have in a long, long time.
A soft knock interrupted her spiral.
Marla peeked in.
"Sorry to bother you. A courier dropped this off. Said it was urgent."
Ava frowned.
Marla handed her a slim black envelope, heavier than normal paper.
No return address.
No markings.
Nothing.
Ava turned it over in her hands, heart tightening.
Another piece of a puzzle she wasn't ready to solve yet.
And somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered if she'd ever have the luxury of standing still again.