Suite Tension.
Once his jet touched down in Mexico, Damien wasted no time. As the heir and driving force behind the Lopez conglomerate, he went straight to the heart of their latest construction project, a multi-billion dollar smart city initiative designed to integrate AI-driven infrastructure with sustainable living. He spent nearly an hour walking the grounds, discussing implementation timelines, revising engineering reports, and holding impromptu meetings with onsite supervisors, all while radiating the kind of intensity only a visionary leader could.
Afterward, he honored a one-on-one interview with Forbes Latin America, discussing his expansion into biotech security, and how the Lopez Group was revolutionizing data encryption in global commerce.
By the time Damien wrapped up for the day, the sky had gone dark and his energy had all but drained. His jaw tightened slightly from the pressure building behind his temples, headache from overexertion, he assumed.
Soon, they were seated in the back of the car. His driver turned and asked, "Where to, sir?"
Damien, his eyes half-lidded from exhaustion, turned to Eva, who sat beside him, tablet in hand.
"Give him the address to the hotel," he said.
Eva blinked. "Sir... erh, what address?"
He turned to her fully now, brows drawing together. "Don't tell me you didn't book a hotel."
"Oh_" Her soft gasp said it all.
"You've got to be kidding me. Are you not aware that, as my PA, it was your responsibility to handle accommodation logistics?"
"I_I'm so sorry, sir. I thought Mr. Eric_"
"Eric?" His voice dropped cold. "Eric isn't your babysitter. You were promoted, Eva, not adopted. I expected you to come prepared. Do your damn homework. I can't believe I agreed to bring you here. Your level of incompetence should be documented."
"I understand, sir. I'll rectify the situation immediately."
"You better. And let me remind you, I only stay at Seven-Star establishments."
"Of course, sir," she murmured and immediately began typing away on her iPad, cheeks flushed with humiliation.
By the time they arrived at the prestigious Gran Hotel de Oro, it was already the dead of night. Damien stepped out of the car with the calm authority of someone who owned the world, while Eva rushed ahead, speaking urgently with the hotel receptionist at the front desk.
Damien didn't need to be told anything, he could overhear just enough.
"I'm terribly sorry," the receptionist said to Eva, her tone apologetic, "but your reservation came in very late. We only have one suite left, the entire hotel is fully booked."
Damien said nothing. He acted like he hadn't heard a word, brushing past them with effortless indifference as the concierge escorted him to the grand suite.
Once inside, Damien barely took in the lavish interior. The ache in his head had grown worse. He went straight for the bathroom, peeled off his shirt, and stepped under the warm stream of water. Steam filled the marble space, but it did little to wash away the fatigue lodged in his bones.
After a quick dinner left untouched on the gold-trimmed table, he tied his robe loosely and strolled toward the wardrobe. But when he opened it, his brows furrowed, his suitcases were still zipped, untouched. She hadn't even unpacked his things.
A fresh wave of irritation surged through him. This would never have happened under Eric's watch. Not even once. And just as he muttered under his breath, the doorbell rang.
He groaned, dragging a hand through his damp hair. "Come in!" he barked.
The door creaked open, and Eva stepped in, her frame small and hesitant. She looked like someone carrying the weight of an entire week in a single day.
"What now, Eva? What do you want?" he said, his voice sharp, brows drawn tight with annoyance.
Eva lowered her gaze. Her voice was soft, almost apologetic. "I just came to say I'm sorry about earlier, sir. It was entirely my fault that the reservation wasn't handled in time."
He said nothing, just stared at her, his face unreadable.
"I knew you only stay in the best, so I tried to find a top-rated place quickly... but this was the only one available and they only had this one suite left..."
"Can you just get to the point?" he cut her off, clearly losing patience.
Eva swallowed. "I... I wanted to ask if I could borrow your bathroom. Please."
He blinked. "Bathroom?" he repeated, almost incredulously.
Then with a huff, he waved her off. "Whatever."
He turned his back to her, hands already tugging at his suitcase. He was too tired to argue, but the fact that he had to unpack his own box, something he'd never done on any business trip, only made his irritation worse.
Meanwhile, Eva disappeared into the en suite quietly, shutting the door behind her.
She let the warm water soak into her skin as she leaned against the tiles, exhausted. Every joint in her body ached, and her head throbbed painfully. She hadn't eaten all day. She hadn't even had a second to breathe.
Her last twenty-four hours had been chaos.
First, the news about her mother's worsening condition. Then the frantic search for money, begging Victor, who ended up turning her away cold. Then, showing up to work thinking it would be business as usual, only to be whisked away on a high-stakes trip she wasn't prepared for.
Now, everything was catching up to her. Her legs felt like jelly, and her chest ached including every part of her body.
She gently took her bath, letting the warm water soothe her aching body. But just as she stepped out and wrapped herself in the bathrobe, she froze, she'd forgotten something crucial. She hadn't come along with any luggage. Eric had given her a black card and told her to buy whatever she needed, but everything had happened so fast. Since arriving in Mexico, she hadn't had a single moment to breathe.
Eva nearly broke down right there in the bathroom, her eyes misting with exhaustion and frustration. The situation was humiliating. She glanced toward the door, debating whether to disturb Damien again. The thought made her stomach knot.
Still in the robe, she quietly stepped into the room where Damien sat on the sofa in his pajamas, speaking fluent Spanish over the phone, clearly engaged in a serious business call. She stood before him with her head bowed.
Damien noticed her presence and sighed, holding a finger up to the caller.
"Un momento," he said into the phone. Then he looked at her, visibly annoyed.
"What is it this time?"
"I'm really sorry to bother you again, sir," she said, barely above a whisper. "But I didn't bring any clothes. Mr. Eric didn't give me time to shop, and I was wondering if I could… maybe borrow a shirt. Just for the night."
Her voice trembled slightly, but she kept her eyes on the floor.
Damien blinked, then narrowed his eyes.
"My clothes?" he repeated slowly. "You want my clothes?"
He shook his head with a scoff.
"Are you out of your mind? What makes you think I'd give you my clothes? I don't share personal things with anyone. Now get out."
The sharpness in his voice cut through the air. Eva flinched, nodded, and turned without a word.
But as she walked away, she muttered under her breath, "Liar."
He heard it.
Damien sat still for a moment, stunned. Did she just call me a liar?
He stared at her retreating figure, confusion settling in. Her attitude was unlike any assistant he'd had before, casual, unfiltered, oddly familiar. She didn't act afraid of him the way others did. Was this how she behaved with everyone, or just him?
He frowned.
He wasn't lying, not really. He didn't share his clothes. Ever. Not even with Seraphina. Only Tyler had been an exception… because they had been dating at the time. She had been sick, fragile, and needed care. It made sense then.
But now, for some reason, his mind wouldn't stop replaying how Tyler looked in his shirt, barefoot, soft curls falling over her shoulders, completely at ease in his world. And then his gaze drifted to Eva's silhouette.
Same stature.
Same subtle elegance.
Would she look just as beautiful?
Eva, meanwhile, sat on the toilet seat in the bathroom, overwhelmed. She had tossed her worn clothes into the wash earlier, thinking she'd manage somehow. But now she was stuck, exhausted, starving, and stuck in a robe. She certainly couldn't go out like this, and Damien? Such a stingy fellow.
She didn't know Damien Lopez to be the selfish type, but clearly he was, he couldn't even lend her a single shirt, how wicked, she thought bitterly while giving him an invisible punch on the head
But, just then, the bathroom door creaked open.
Startled, Eva looked up just in time to see a crisp white shirt flying toward her. It landed in her lap. The door slammed shut immediately after, the force making her flinch.
Her lips curled slightly.
Maybe not so stingy after all.
Outside, Damien grumbled as he returned to his calls, irritation still evident in his voice. He stayed glued to the phone, hopping from one call to the next, his tone curt and businesslike. But Eva didn't emerge from the bathroom for over an hour.
Just when he began to wonder if something might be wrong, the door finally creaked open and she stepped out, quiet, hesitant.
Damien ended his final call with a sigh and let out a deep yawn, his exhaustion clearly catching up with him. He was about to rise when he noticed her standing before him again, her head bowed, shoulders tense.
That posture. That silence. He was beginning to recognize the pattern.
She wore his shirt, he could tell from one glance, but he noticed she had layered her long bathrobe over it, as if trying to keep some distance, some modesty. Still, there was no mistaking the vulnerability in the way she stood there, barely lifting her eyes from the floor.
"Sir…" she began softly, still not meeting his eyes. "I don't know where to sleep. Earliar, I asked the front desk if there were any spare rooms, guest rooms, staff quarters, anywhere at all. But they said there's absolutely nothing available. The next hotel is several kilometers away, and I thought… maybe I could sleep in your car. Just for the night. Please, sir. I swear I won't touch anything. I just need a place to lay my head."
She wrung her pinky finger nervously, still speaking in that hushed, apologetic tone. Damien raised a brow, then scoffed.
"So, let me get this straight. You want me to give you my car keys so you can go sleep alone in a garage, in the middle of a freezing night?" he said incredulously.
"Yes, sir," she replied quickly, eyes fixed on the floor.
"Get out of my face, Eva," he snapped, collecting a few scattered files with clear irritation.