I arrived at work earlier than usual that morning. The office was quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioner and the distant click of heels echoing down the hallway. My desk was by the glass wall, and as sunlight filtered through, the city looked still and alive at once. I took a deep breath and tried to focus on my screen, but my thoughts drifted toward Damian.
He hadn't said much after our last conversation. The night had ended awkwardly, leaving behind a tension I couldn't name. Every time I remembered his expression, my chest tightened. It was like he was fighting something within himself, something he didn't want me to see.
"Morning, Elena," Clara greeted as she passed by with her coffee.
"Morning," I replied, forcing a smile.
A few others came in, chatting about deadlines, clients, and the upcoming company party that evening. I tried to blend in, but my heart wasn't in it. My mind kept wandering back to Damian's face—calm, unreadable, yet somehow too intense to ignore.
By 9 a.m., he arrived. The soft click of the elevator doors made my body tense before I even turned around. He stepped in with his usual composure, a black suit perfectly fitted, expression neutral.
"Good morning, Mr. Stone," I greeted. My voice came out softer than I expected.
"Morning," he replied. His tone was even, but his eyes lingered a moment too long.
I looked away quickly and busied myself with organizing the reports on my desk. My fingers brushed the edges of the papers, trembling slightly.
The day dragged slowly. We spoke when necessary, about schedules, documents, meetings. But every time he called my name, it felt heavier than it should.
"Elena," he said once, his voice low, almost thoughtful.
"Yes?"
"Cancel my 3 p.m. with Mr. Lee. Move it to tomorrow."
"Of course."
That was it. Simple, efficient. Yet the sound of his voice stayed in my head long after the moment passed.
Around noon, as I prepared his lunch schedule, he called again. "Elena, are you attending the company party tonight?"
I froze for a second before answering. "Yes, I am."
He nodded slowly. "Good. Make sure the files for tomorrow's presentation are done before you leave."
That was all. No warmth, no hint of personal concern. But still, my pulse sped up.
The afternoon slipped by, full of quiet glances and unspoken words. There were moments I caught him looking out the window, expression distant, jaw tight. He was thinking about something, maybe nothing to do with me—but I couldn't stop wondering.
When the workday finally ended, everyone rushed to get ready for the party. I stayed behind, organizing the last batch of files. The office felt peaceful at that hour, filled with soft chatter from a few lingering coworkers.
"Could you file this up for me, Elena?" someone asked from the side.
"Sure." I took the folder, my mind still elsewhere.
"No way, my kids had to go through that too," another woman laughed near the printer. "It was too much to handle!"
Their voices faded as I worked. My focus sharpened only when I heard his footsteps again.
"Elena," he called from the doorway of his office. I turned to look at him.
"Yes, Mr. Stone?"
His eyes studied me quietly. "You're still here."
"I was finishing the reports."
He nodded, almost as if debating something. "You should get ready. The car will take us there in an hour."
"Us?"
He looked at me briefly, then said, "Yes. I'll drive you there."
My breath caught for a second, but I simply nodded. "Alright."
He left without another word.
Back at my apartment, I tried to calm my nerves as I prepared for the evening. The dress I picked was simple—navy blue, fitted but not too revealing. My hair fell in loose waves, and for once, I added a hint of perfume. I told myself it was for confidence, not him. But deep down, I wasn't sure.
When the car pulled up, I felt my chest tighten again. Damian was already inside, phone in hand, face unreadable. I slid in beside him, and for a while, the only sound was the city outside and the hum of the engine.
"You look… prepared," he said after a pause, eyes still forward.
"Thank you," I replied softly.
He nodded, expression calm. "It's good to see professionalism extend beyond the office."
It was such a Damian thing to say—controlled, restrained. But I caught the faintest curl of his lip before he turned away, and something in me stirred.
The drive wasn't long. When we arrived, the venue shimmered with light and sound. The company had gone all out. Music filled the hall, laughter echoed from every corner, and glasses clinked as people mingled.
I stepped in first, greeted by a few colleagues. Compliments floated around.
"You look stunning, Elena!"
"Wow, didn't expect to see you like this."
I smiled and thanked them, but my mind was on something else entirely. I could feel Damian's presence before I saw him. He was near the entrance, greeting a few executives. When his gaze finally found me, everything around me faded a little.
He paused mid-conversation, his eyes scanning me from head to toe—not in a way that felt invasive, but deliberate. Measured. I felt warmth rise to my cheeks.
He excused himself from the group and walked toward me. The crowd seemed to part without him saying a word. His steps were unhurried, his face composed. But as he drew closer, something in his eyes softened, just slightly.
"Mr. Stone," I greeted, my voice low, trying to keep my composure.
"Elena," he said. The way he said my name sent a shiver down my spine.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The music around us seemed to slow. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure he could hear it.
He leaned a little closer, voice quiet enough for only me to hear. "You're looking so beautiful tonight."
A small, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips.
The world tilted, just a little.
And in that second, I forgot where I was.