Chapter Nine: The Grand Gesture

Sophie's heels clicked against the pavement as she walked to work, her thoughts tangled in the events of the previous night. The cool morning air did little to clear her mind, which replayed Damien's kiss on a loop. She clenched her fists, frustration bubbling to the surface.

It had felt nice—too nice.

Her anger wasn't just at Damien. It was at herself for letting her guard down, even for a moment. She reminded herself of what the Carringtons did to her, to her family. There was no way she would let herself trust a Carrington. They were deceptive, manipulative, and dangerous. Damien was no different, no matter how charming his smile or how genuine his regret seemed.

"Stick to the plan," she muttered to herself as she crossed the street. "Collect incriminating information and take them down. Nothing more."

By the time she reached her office, Sophie had steeled her resolve. She settled into her chair and tried to focus on her work, but her mind kept wandering back to the kiss. She glanced at the clock, watching the hours crawl by, when a shadow fell across her desk.

"Good morning, Sophie."

Her head snapped up, and there he was—Damien Carrington. His presence dominated the room, and in his hands was a bouquet of vibrant red roses. Her stomach churned, torn between anger and something she refused to name.

He stepped closer, his expression softer than she had ever seen it. "Sophie, I know what I did was uncalled for—a big breach of your privacy and consent. I don't know the right words to use because apologies are not a thing I do often, but please forgive me. I promise to keep my impulses under control from now on."

He extended the bouquet toward her, his eyes searching hers for any sign of forgiveness. Sophie didn't move. She didn't look at him, didn't acknowledge his presence. Instead, she opened her novel and began reading as if he weren't there.

The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable. Damien sighed, lowering the flowers to his side. "I mean it, Sophie, it was an accident. I don't know what came over me." he said softly, but when she didn't respond, he turned and left the room.

Sophie waited until the door clicked shut before letting out a slow breath. Her hands trembled slightly, but she ignored it, focusing on the words of her novel—even though she hadn't turned a page.

---

Hours later, Mrs. Penelope Hart approached her desk. She held an envelope in her hand.

"This is for you," Penelope said, placing it on Sophie's desk.

Sophie frowned, setting down her book. "What's this?"

"I don't know," Penelope replied with a shrug. "I didn't open it." She walked away, leaving Sophie alone with her curiosity.

She tore open the envelope, pulling out a single piece of paper with three words scrawled across it: Look outside.

Sophie's brows furrowed as she glanced toward the window. Her breath hitched when she saw it—a plane flying overhead, its exhaust spelling out words in the sky: I'm sorry, Sophie.

Her cheeks flushed as her lips involuntarily twitched into a smile. She quickly wiped it away, shaking her head. "Ridiculous," she muttered, but a part of her was touched by the gesture.

---

Damien wasn't done. Over the next few hours, his creativity knew no bounds.

First, a string quartet appeared in the lobby, serenading the office with a heartfelt rendition of her favorite classical piece, how he knew she liked it, she couldn't figure it out. She could feel the eyes of her coworkers on her, their whispers filling the air as she tried to bury herself in her work.

Next, a delivery man arrived with a box of gourmet chocolates and a handwritten note: I won't stop until you forgive me. She threw the note in the trash but kept the chocolates.

By mid-afternoon, a giant teddy bear the size of her desk was wheeled in. It wore a T-shirt that read: Forgive Me? Her co-workers who were now enjoying the show stayed in the lobby with her. They burst into laughter when they saw the teddy with the cute puppy eyes, but Sophie's face remained stoic. She refused to give Damien the satisfaction of a reaction.

---

By the end of the day, the grand gestures stopped. Damien didn't show up, didn't send another letter or gift. Sophie found herself glancing at the clock, wondering if he was planning something bigger. But as the hours dragged on and nothing happened, an unfamiliar disappointment settled in her chest.

She hated it. She hated that she wanted him to try again, that she missed his absurd attempts. Shaking her head, she packed her things and left the office.

---

When Sophie arrived home, she noticed a large parcel sitting by her door. Her stomach twisted as she approached it, already guessing who it was from. But when she opened it, she was surprised to find not flowers or chocolates but high-tech gadgets—state-of-the-art devices that made her heart sink.

She sighed, dragging the box inside. As she examined the contents, her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She hesitated before answering.

"Have you received the package?" The voice on the other end was cold and businesslike.

"Yes, I have," Sophie replied. "I didn't know you were now sending things directly to my house."

"There are security risks in sending them to your workplace," the voice said. "Inside that box, you'll find a portable recorder. It's very expensive, so try not to lose it. You're going to plant it in Damien Carrington's office so we can listen to his conversations. Something he says might be just the edge we need to take him out."

Sophie's stomach churned. "You want me to plant a bug in his office?"

"The last recorder had a shorter range. This one can record up to his bedroom so yes, I want you to plant it there as soon as you can. Do you think you can do it?"

"I'm not sure, getting into his room the last time was really tough." she admitted, her voice faltering.

"Don't worry," the voice said flatly. "You'll figure it out."

The line went dead.