Chapter 10: The spark he hated

Damien Voss was furious, with himself.

He stared out of his floor-to-ceiling office window, Vortex Innovations sprawling beneath him like a kingdom he built from blood, brilliance, and stone. A kingdom he ruled without mercy. And yet, all he could think about was a woman.

Nora Grayson.

She'd been with the company just one week. One week. And somehow, she had twisted his perfectly ordered life into chaos. She was clumsy, talked too much, and challenged him in meetings like she had something to prove.

And he couldn't stop thinking about her.

Damien slammed his pen on the desk and ran a hand through his dark hair. This wasn't him. He didn't get distracted. He didn't feel things. Feelings got in the way. Feelings slowed you down. And yet here he was, replaying her voice in his head, remembering the way she stood up to him in front of the board, the fire in her eyes when he told her to earn his respect.

And she had. Damn it, she had.

He tried to focus on the new blueprint for the energy grid proposal. Tried to redirect his thoughts to the looming Helix threat. Tried to remind himself that her presence was temporary, a spark that would flicker out the moment her contract ended.

But she wasn't flickering. She was blazing.

He got up from the desk and paced his office. It was nearly midnight. The building had long since emptied out, leaving only the distant hum of machines and security cameras blinking in silence. Nora's Whirlybird project was complete. She'd exceeded expectations. And for some reason, he had insisted she stay at his penthouse.

Stupid.

He hadn't even realized it until she was standing there in the living room, wide-eyed and awkward in her casual clothes, looking like she didn't belong in his world and fitting perfectly into it at the same time.

He left the office minutes later, couldn't bear another second of being alone with his thoughts. The ride to his penthouse was silent, the streets quiet, the city lights blurring past the tinted windows of his sleek black car. When he got home, the place was dark. Peaceful.

Except peace wasn't what he found.

It was the sound of her soft breathing that pulled him down the hallway. He didn't plan to go to her room, he just wanted a glass of whiskey. He told himself that.

But when he passed her door, something made him stop.

She hadn't locked it.

Damien hesitated, fingers brushing against the handle. Don't. Just walk away.

He opened the door.

The room was dim, the moonlight filtering in through the large windows casting a silvery glow across the bed. And there she was, Nora—curled beneath his Egyptian cotton sheets, her dark lashes resting softly against her cheeks, hair fanned out like ink across his pillows.

She looked peaceful. Beautiful. Untouchable.

He stepped inside quietly, hands shoved in the pockets of his slacks, unsure what he was doing. Admiring her from afar like some lovesick fool? He wasn't that guy. He never had been.

But here he was.

His eyes roamed over her sleeping face, down to the curve of her shoulder and the soft rise and fall of her chest. She sighed in her sleep, murmuring something he couldn't make out.

His chest tightened.

He'd fallen. Deep. And he hated it.

Just as he was about to turn and leave, her eyes fluttered open.

Damien froze.

Nora blinked once, groggily, and then focused on him. Her voice came out low and husky. "Damien?"

Shit.

"I—" He cleared his throat and straightened, adjusting his tie even though it was already perfect. "I needed a file. From the drawer in here."

She didn't say anything. Just raised an eyebrow, eyes still heavy with sleep.

"The file?" she echoed, voice dry with disbelief.

"Yeah." He pointed to the bedside drawer, even though there was absolutely nothing in there. "Project specs. For tomorrow."

She gave him a slow, knowing look. "You keep sensitive files in my nightstand now?"

Damien said nothing.

Nora pushed herself up slowly, the sheets pooling around her waist. Her hand came up, brushing her hair back from her face. "Were you watching me sleep?"

He met her gaze, something dark flickering in his eyes. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Right." She leaned back against the headboard, arms crossing over her chest. "Next time, knock before you sneak in, CEO."

He smirked. "Noted."

But as he turned to leave, she called out, her voice softer now. "Why are you really here, Damien?"

He paused in the doorway, jaw tense.

"I don't know," he admitted.

And for a moment, the air between them hung heavy with things neither of them dared to say.

He shut the door behind him quietly.

But sleep never came.