Chapter Three

Maya kept her head down the rest of the day, focusing all her energy into her tasks in the effort to chase the pesky words from Naomi from her mind.

''He likes you''.

Ridiculous.

Damien Knight didn't care about people. He didn't care about anything.

Still, the thought nagged in her head, refusing to let up.

By the time the day ended, she was immersed in stacks and stacks of briefs, legal, when her phone rang, indicating an email.

From: Damien Knight

Subject: Revised Report

'Sinclair'

'My office. Now.'

Her stomach churned.

Maya took a deep breath and picked up her documents to head to his office. This time, she did not hesitate to knock.

"Come in." She stepped in, the heavy, creaky door shutting behind her. Damien sat at his desk, rolling up his sleeves again, his hand in the back of a piece of paper and the other around the tumblerful of whisky.

Her breath caught. He appeared different. Not so much the inviolable CEO and so much the man who spent the whole day carrying the burden of the company.

He gestured to the chair to his side. "Sit."

She did, clenching her fists in her lap to hold them back from wriggling.

He slid the revised report to her. "Better."

Maya let her breath, unaware that she did hold her breath, escape. "And imperfect, too?"

A flicker passed through his face. "There's never anything absolutely perfect, Sinclair."

His eyes met hers by a fraction longer than required. Long enough to register the awareness.

She swallowed and lowered her eyes at once to the report. "I could make some adjustments."

"No." His tone remained steady and low. "It's enough."

Maya nodded, unsure what to make of the oppressive feel in the air.

Damien leaned back, studying her in silence, before finally uttering, "You are different from the others."

Her brows furrow. "Others?"

"The ones who report to me in here—too eager to impress, too eager to please," he leaned in his head. "You, by contrast, challenge me,"

Maya's heart hammered. "It's bad, isn't it?"

His lips quivered at the corner. "Not necessarily."

She swallowed. The manner in which he regarded her, judgmentally and interested, caused her to feel warm.

It was unsafe. This affair, this thing, whatever it was.

Maya cleared her throat and rose from her position. "Excuse me, sir, I ought to return to work."

Damien didn't stop her.

But as she entered the doorway, his voice stopped the silence.

"Sinclair."

She turned, pulse quickening.

His gaze did not falter, his voice softer and so nearly. considerate.

"Be careful what you step in."

Maya exhaled, and then nodded.

She stepped outside the office, the office door slapping at her heels, but the warning stuck.

And so also the way he had seen her, like he already struggled to be apart.

Maya spent the rest of the days working day and night, refusing to give the voice in her head any hold.

It wasn't just words from Naomi.

It was Damien.

The way he looked at her. The tone in which he spoke to her. The tone in which he warned her—cautioning himself, too.

She needed to put all the above aside.

She was in town to build a career, and to indulge in daydreams about her employer.

Still, it became increasingly hard to avoid the building tensions between them. It lay in the silence, embedded in the tapestry of the easily excusable minutes, except they didn't fit.

Like the pressure of his hands in her hands when he handed her the report.

The way his eyes tended to rest just a fraction longer than required before gliding off.

The way his voice lowered when he said her.

Maya told her to her, in effect, saying, telling her, that she was dreaming.

But deep in her heart, she did.

"I think I could be in trouble."

Maya dropped into the break-room chair, letting her breath escape in frustration, her eyes flashing at the chair in front, occupied by Naomi, her brow furrowed.

"You? Trouble? What did you get into? You pilfered office supplies."

Maya shot her a look. "Positive, absolutely nothing, no."

Naomi took a sip from her coffee. "And what about then?"

Maya hesitated, and in a softer tone, "Damien Knight, I believe I don't know."

Naomi's eyes widened. "Ohhh. Now, I simply have to hear about this."

Maya sighed. "It's just. there's something. I don't if I'm just making something up, if I'm just imagining something that isn't real."

Naomi smirked. "You are dreaming."

Maya's head reeled. "Excuse me?"

Naomi leaned in. "Maya, I've only been working here for three years, and I don't believe I've ever seen the look he's giving you."

Maya's heart pounded. "That means absolutely nothing."

"Maybe. Maybe so," considered Naomi. "And if you are in trouble, you are in trouble because of what he's doing, and you don't feel you are because you are.

Maya swallowed.

"Be careful," Naomi warned. "Men like Damien Knight don't just approve. They swallow them whole."

The words chilled Maya, and she forced a smile. "You are so dramatic."

Naomi shrugged. "Possibly. Or possibly I just see how the game's played."

Maya didn't utter anything to that.

Because deep down, she feared Naomi might be right.

The day passed lazily, and Maya wore off in the evening.

She had finished her latest report when her phone rang.

Knight: My office, please.

Maya inhaled, grabbing her pad, and proceeded to his office.

She knocked.

"Come in."

She stepped in to find him standing by the window, his back to her.

The city lights danced off his body, making him seem all the more inviolable.

"You wanted to see me," she asked, her tone steady.

He turned, eyes meeting hers.

"Yes."

He gestured to the chair beside him. "Come, sit."

She did, placing her pad in her lap.

Damien walked to her, sitting beside her, his hands in a tent.

"You're adjusting all right," he said, after a pause.

Maya blinked.

"Thank you," she responded cautiously.

"You're learning at a good pace." His tone was smooth, controlled. "You just stall."

Maya frowned. "Hesitate?"

His gaze met hers. "You second guess. You hesitate. You must stop."

She bit the side of her jaw. "I don't want to push so strongly."

A ghostly flash of a grin danced at his mouth. "I'm not talking about the law, Sinclair. I'm talking about you."

Her heart thundered in her chest.

"What are we doing?" she asked quietly.

Silence.

"You tell me"

Maya exhaled shakily. "It's not supposed to be."

"No," Damien responded, his voice only just above a whisper. "It's not."

And yet, the two did not budge.

The air between them crackled with something undefinable, something to which neither could give voice.

Then, slowly, intentionally, Damien reached his hand out, far enough so his fingers just grazed her.

Maya's breath caught.

It was only a whisper. A soft, light caress.

And yet, it set her entire body on fire.

She should maintain some distance.

But she didn't.

Neither did he.

And in the moment, they both comprehended,

The line had already been crossed.