CHAPTER 10

The numbers on Phoebe's screen blurred as her mind drifted—again.

She leaned back in her chair, tapping her pen against the desk, her thoughts slipping somewhere they had no business going.

The kiss.

It had been weeks. Weeks since she had stormed into Damon's office, weeks since she had let her guard down for one damn second—long enough to taste him, to let herself want him.

And yet, it still haunted her.

The way his hands had curled around her waist. The way his lips had moved against hers—possessive, like he had been waiting just as long as she had.

The way her body had responded before her brain could catch up.

Phoebe exhaled sharply, shaking her head.

No.

She refused to let this be a distraction.

A sharp ring cut through the silence. She snatched her phone off the desk without looking—until she saw the name on the screen.

Father.

Her stomach twisted, but she forced her voice to stay neutral as she answered.

"Phoebe." His tone was clipped, all business. "The Lancaster deal is off."

Phoebe sat up straighter. "What?"

"I've reconsidered. It's not the right move."

Liar.

Her father never reconsidered anything unless he was forced to. Which meant—

Her grip on the phone tightened. Damon.

"You should be grateful," her father continued. "That gives you more time to figure things out. But I won't wait forever."

She already knew what was coming, but it still made her jaw clench.

"One more year, Phoebe. That's all I'm giving you. Either you settle down, or you're cut off."

Phoebe let out a sharp laugh. "Like I even care."

"Maybe you should," he said coldly. "You're running out of time."

The call ended before she could respond.

Phoebe tossed her phone onto the desk and let out a slow breath, her fingers rubbing at her temples.

Damon.

He had done this.

And whether she liked it or not, she owed him for it.

---

Damon glanced up as his office door swung open.

And there she was.

He leaned back in his chair, watching as Phoebe walked in, her expression unreadable.

"You called off the Lancaster deal," she said without preamble.

Damon studied her, his lips curling slightly. "You're welcome."

Phoebe huffed. "I didn't say thank you."

His smirk deepened. "Not yet."

She folded her arms, her heels clicking against the floor as she took a step closer. "Why?"

His gaze held hers, unwavering. "Because you didn't want it."

Her breath hitched. It was a simple answer—too simple. But the way he said it, the way he looked at her, made her chest tighten.

Phoebe exhaled sharply, shifting her stance. "Well… thank you."

Damon's smirk didn't fade. "See? That wasn't so hard."

Phoebe rolled her eyes, but there was no real heat behind it.

A beat of silence.

Then—

"Join me for lunch."

Phoebe blinked. "What?"

Damon's expression didn't change. "Lunch. You do eat, don't you?"

She narrowed her eyes. "I do. Just not with you."

"Then consider this a first."

Phoebe scoffed. "You're assuming I'll say yes."

Damon leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "You're here, which means part of you already has."

Her lips parted—ready to argue, ready to shut this down.

But she hesitated.

Because, if she was being honest…

The idea wasn't entirely unappealing.

Damon must have noticed the flicker of hesitation because his smirk softened, just slightly. "Come on, Phoebe. It's just lunch."

Just lunch.

Right.

She exhaled. "Fine."

Damon grinned, standing. "Good choice."

Phoebe rolled her eyes again, but this time, she couldn't quite hide the small smile threatening to form.