"Handle a problem?" I repeated, eyebrows raised, watching Damien's lips curl into a crooked smile.
"Yeah," he said, feigning nonchalance. "A serious one."
His tone was laced with sarcasm, but I didn't catch on immediately. That is, until he turned the steering wheel and drove up an unfamiliar road that curved gently uphill, away from the city lights.
"Where are we going?" I asked, glancing around. The skyline faded behind us as trees flanked either side of the road.
"You'll see. Just trust me."
The silence between us wasn't uncomfortable—it was charged. I glanced sideways at him. Even in the dim glow of the dashboard lights, he looked impossibly composed. Mysterious. Untouchable.
Minutes later, the car came to a gentle stop at a clearing on the hilltop. My breath hitched.
It was beautiful.
Below us, the city twinkled like scattered stardust, but above—the stars ruled. There were so many, blanketing the sky, eternal and still.
Damien stepped out and walked around to open my door. Ever the gentleman.
"What is this place?"
"My escape," he said simply, offering his hand. "I've never brought anyone here before."
I looked at his hand, then up into his eyes. For a brief second, I hesitated—was this real? But the sincerity in his gaze melted my doubt. I took his hand.
We stepped into the open. The wind whispered secrets through the trees. He stood silently beside me for a moment, then turned slightly.
"Amara."
It was the first time he said my name aloud, and it sounded like something sacred. My heart flipped.
"Would you like to dance with me?" he asked, his voice low, teasing. "Right here. Under the stars."
I blinked, caught between laughter and disbelief. "You're joking."
"I'm dead serious."
I laughed then. Not because it was ridiculous—because it was unexpectedly perfect. He held out his arms, and without thinking, I stepped into them.
The world blurred.
His hand pressed gently against the small of my back. My palm rested against his chest. I could feel his heartbeat—steady, strong.
There was no music, only the sound of the night and the rhythm of our breath. But we moved. Slowly. Naturally. Like we'd done this before.
He gazed at me as if I were something fragile. Something rare.
And I… I looked away. Heat flushed my cheeks. It was too much. Too intense.
After a few more minutes, we drifted apart slightly. His hands lingered, then fell.
"You're different," he said. "You're not like them."
"Them?"
"The people I usually meet."
I raised a brow. "Because I'm broke?"
He chuckled, eyes crinkling. "Because you're real."
I swallowed. The compliment clung to the air like perfume.
Then he said, casually, as if it were nothing: "You said you needed a job. How would you feel about working for me?"
I blinked. "What?"
"My company has a vacant secretary position. It's yours—if you want it."
My jaw dropped. "You're serious?"
He nodded. "I don't offer second chances."
"Yes," I blurted, way too fast.
He laughed—a full, genuine sound that echoed against the quiet hills.
"I like your enthusiasm."
"Sorry," I said sheepishly. "It's just… I need this."
"I know."
He reached into his coat pocket and handed me a sleek business card. Damien Wolfe, CEO, Wolfe Enterprises. I read the address and title again just to be sure I wasn't hallucinating.
"Resume?" I asked, half-joking.
"Don't need one. Be there tomorrow morning. Eight sharp."
I grinned. "You really are a godsend."
"No," he said, eyes darkening slightly. "Just a man who sees potential where others don't."
On the ride back, the conversation flowed easily. We talked about childhood dreams, favorite movies, things we feared. I learned he hated olives. That he'd once dreamt of being an astronaut. That he hated hospitals.
"Too much sadness in those walls," he said, voice distant.
"Have you spent much time in them?"
He hesitated. "Too much."
I didn't press. But something shifted in his eyes. Something hidden. Buried.
By the time we reached my place, the city had quieted, the roads thinned. He stopped the car and turned to me.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Amara."
"You will. Thank you—for tonight. For everything."
He nodded once. I stepped out, closed the door behind me, and watched him drive off. The stars still shimmered above.
Inside, I collapsed on my bed, a strange peace wrapping around me like a warm blanket.
For the first time in a long while, I wasn't drowning.
I was breathing.
And I was smiling.
But just as my eyes began to close, my phone buzzed.
Unknown Caller.
I hesitated, then answered.
"Mr. Wolfe?" a voice asked.
"Um… no. This is Amara. Who's this?"
"This is Dr. Harrison from Mercy Hill Hospital. I was trying to reach Mr. Damien Wolfe. His mother's condition has taken a sudden turn. It's urgent."
My breath caught. "His… mother?"
"Yes. Please, if you're in touch with him, tell him to come immediately."
The call ended.
I stared at the screen, heart racing.
Damien's last words echoed in my mind: Too much sadness in those walls.
I had no idea I was stepping into something deeper than just a job.
And maybe… just maybe, he wasn't the only one saving someone tonight.