Arabella sat still on the far end of the sofa, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Damon was beside her, closer than anyone had ever dared to be in her space. The air felt heavier—not stifling, but charged. She could feel his eyes on her, even as she tried to focus on anything else in the room.
After a while, he slowly backed to sit against the sofa and turned towards her.
"Comfortable?" he asked quietly.
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
His gaze lingered on her face, trailing down to the subtle twitch of her fingers. "You always fidget like that when you're nervous?"
Her eyes widened. "I'm not—" she began, then stopped herself.
He smirked. "Hmm. You're right. You're perfectly calm. This is exactly how people look when they're relaxed around their boss."
She looked down, cheeks tingling with heat.
There was a quiet moment where their eyes locked again. A silent kind of pull, subtle but undeniable. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them needed to.
Then, suddenly—a sharp ring from his office landline broke the tension. Arabella jolted lightly in her seat, and Damon blinked, almost as if shaking out of a trance.
"I-I should get back, Mr. Kingsley" Arabella mumbled, rising abruptly, grateful for the interruption and yet oddly somewhat disappointed.
He didn't stop her this time. Just watched as she practically scrambled out of his office, with a slight curl of his lips.
Arabella got out of the office with her hand pressing to her chest as if to quiet her racing heart.
---
Back at her desk, she couldn't concentrate. Her code blurred in front of her eyes. Everything she tried to type reminded her of his eyes, his voice, the warmth of his arm brushing hers when he sat beside her.
What actually just happened?
---
As the workday neared its end, Arabella gathered her things, still feeling the traces of Damon's gaze and the lingering warmth of his presence beside her on the sofa. The moment kept looping in her mind—the way his eyes had softened, that teasing smile, the silence between them right before the sound of the phone ring pulled them apart.
She had barely composed herself when she stepped into the corridor and bumped into someone familiar.
"Arabella?"
She turned slowly, blinking at the man standing before her. It took her a moment. Then—Adrian.
He looked older, of course. Sharper jaw, taller frame, dressed in smart business-casual. But those eyes… she remembered them from years ago. From a childhood that felt like a whole other lifetime. They had lived at the Orphanage together. Later, Adrian got adopted and they lost contact.
"Hi," she said softly, uncertain.
"I thought it was you." His smile held both surprise and warmth. "It's been years."
"Yes… it has," she replied, folding her arms lightly across her chest.
They talked only briefly. He mentioned working in another department—just two floors below—and how he had noticed her name once or twice on the shared internal network.
"Crazy, isn't it? The world suddenly feels too small," he chuckled.
Arabella just nodded. She wasn't used to people from her past suddenly showing up, and it had been quite a while since their last contact so she didn't know what to talk about.
When they reached the main building exit, Adrian noticed her looking toward the street.
"Waiting for someone?" he asked.
"No, I take the bus," she replied, checking her watch.
He hesitated, then offered with a smile, "I can drop you. It's not a problem."
She shook her head gently. "Thanks, but I'm okay. It's… not far."
Adrian didn't insist. "Alright then. Maybe we'll talk again."
She offered a small smile. "Sure."
---
The bus ride home was quiet, her head resting lightly against the window as city lights rushed past in a blur. But her thoughts were somewhere else.
They were still trapped in the momets with her boss. On that couch, today, in the meetings and the party and all. In that space where her boss had sat far too close, looked far too deep, and said far too little—and yet, everything.
At home, she barely touched dinner. Her mind kept drifting back to the way Damon had always said her name, "Pearls" softly. It always felt something intimate.
And then , his teasing question:
"Did you miss me?"
The truth?
She might have.
And it scared her.