Finally Getting Laid.
Back at the company.
The car pulled up beside the building. Damian stepped out first, followed by Eva. As Seraphina reached for the door...
Click.
He locked it.
"Take her back to the hotel," he barked at Eric, his voice ice cold. Then he turned and walked away, not looking back.
Eric gave Seraphina a tight-lipped nod and started the engine.
Inside the car, Seraphina's wail echoed into the night.
"No! Let me out! Damien!" Seraphina was left swearing, fussing and crying.
But Damien was already gone.
Once they returned to the office, Eva quietly gathered the few belongings she had left behind earlier in the day. Her heels clicked softly on the tiles, echoing in the dim hallway like a ticking clock. She hadn't expected the meeting to stretch on for hours. What she thought would be a quick sit-down had turned into a marathon of tense conversations and silent stares. It was already late, well past the hour she should be heading home.
With her bag slung over her shoulder and her mind already halfway out the door, Eva paused just as her hand touched the handle. She turned slightly, her gaze lingering on the corridor that led to Damien's office.
A voice in her head whispered, You should at least say goodbye. It's the polite thing to do.
If only she had listened to her instincts and walked away.
Eric wasn't around, and as far as she could tell, no one else was in the building. It only felt right to inform Damien she was leaving. So she approached the door, knocked twice, then thrice, but there was no answer. Frowning, she hesitated for a moment, then slowly opened the door.
Her heart stuttered.
There he was, Damien, slumped over his desk, his head resting heavily on his arms, completely motionless.
"Sir?" Eva's voice trembled slightly as she stepped in. "Excuse me, sir, I just wanted to let you know I'm leaving for the night."
Still no response.
Her heart began to race. A sickening panic crept in as she reached out and tapped his shoulder. "Sir?" she tried again, this time shaking him lightly.
No movement.
"Oh my God," she whispered, cold fear rushing through her veins. "Damien?" She hurried to his side, placing a hand behind his head and turning his face toward her. That's when she caught the faint scent of alcohol on his breath, and the soft rise and fall of his chest.
He was breathing. Just... very still.
Eva exhaled, her knees nearly buckling. "Thank God you're not dead. I can't afford to go to jail tonight. My mom and Bob very much still needs me around"
With trembling fingers, she pulled out her phone and dialed Eric's number. As the phone rang, she muttered under her breath, "I told him he was overdoing it. But no, Alcohol Calculated Genius said he had a mental barometer for how much alcohol he could take. Look at you now, genius, out cold."
From the corner of Damien's desk, one eye slowly cracked open. He watched her through a half-lidded gaze, a smirk barely tugging at his lips.
The truth? He wasn't drunk. Not even close.
He had just been resting. A short nap before diving into his all-night workload. He'd planned on sleeping over at the company to get ahead of some urgent tasks. But while he was resting, he heard the knocks on the door, annoyance flashed through him. Who the hell is bothering me now? he thought bitterly.
He cussed, wishing whoever it was should just leave him alone so he could rest a bit. But the knocking refused to stop and just when he was about to snap at who it was, the door creaked open. Curiosity got the better of him. And he decided to keep calm to see what the person who had the audacity to enter into his office this late into the night planned on doing.
So he stayed still, pretending to sleep.
Then came Eva.
The worry in her voice. The frantic way she shook him. The panic in her breath. It hit something deep in his chest, something quite fascinating.
So, he decided to watch for a while, and when Eva became a chatterbox he knew he certainly would keep the pretence up, he needed to hear her real thought for once.
So he kept up the act. He wanted to see what she's like when she believed no one was watching.
By the time she called Eric for the fourth time, he was trying not to laugh.
Finally, Eric answered. His voice was muffled, odd... distracted.
"Hello, Mr. Eric," Eva said, sounding breathless. "I think the boss is drunk, sir."
"He can't be drunk," came the quick reply.
"He is, sir! Please, where are you? I can't just leave him like this!"
"I'm sure he's fine," Eric said. "But if you're worried... maybe just accompany him to the house. You know the address, don't you?"
Eva's eyes widened. "Oh_no, no, sir. I_ I can't do that, it's past eight already. I need to get home. Sir? Hello? Hello_?"
The call cut off.
Her brows furrowed. "That was weird. Why do I feel like Mr. Eric sounded... strange?" She tilted her head. "He sounded like... like he was screwing a woman. Wow. So he actually has a girlfriend? Poor Cathy would be devastated. Eric too? Taken?"
She shook her head and sighed dramatically. "And now here I am, stuck with a potentially drunk CEO, no backup, and a phone line that leads to voicemail."
She looked over at Damien again, who was still "asleep," his breathing deep and steady.
"And that brings us to the main issue," she muttered. "What the hell am I supposed to do with you, boss man?"
With a heavy sigh, Eva sank into the chair opposite him, folding her arms and glaring at him like he'd ruined her entire week.
Unbeknownst to her, Damien was having the hardest time suppressing the wicked grin threatening to break across his lips.
And she sighed.
With a mix of guilt and determination, Eva grabbed Damien's phone from the table. She hesitated, this was wrong, she knew it. But she also knew he needed help. Without thinking too long, she used his thumbprint to unlock it, just as she'd seen him do countless times. The soft click of the screen unlocking gave her a strange sense of power... or maybe responsibility.
Quickly, she dialed his head of security.
By the time the guards arrived, Eva had already composed herself, though her heart still pounded. One of the men helped her steady Damien as they led him to the car. Damien, still feigning drunkenness, allowed it all to happen while discreetly watching Eva out of the corner of his eye.
She slipped into the backseat beside him and instinctively supported him, her arms wrapped around him tightly as the car began to move. When the vehicle hit a bump, his body shifted, and her arms reacted on their own, pulling him in, cradling his head gently on her shoulder.
Worried he might fall forward, she held him even tighter and whispered into her phone.
"Hey Bob... I won't be coming home just yet. Something urgent came up. Please, try to sleep early. I'll be home later, okay? Love you."
She hung up with a long sigh and looked at Damien's face, still slack in his supposed stupor.
"This is all your fault, Mr. Eric," she muttered. "I can't believe I'm heading to the island this late. Damn it."
She gasped again, steadying his head in her arms. The ride to Damien's villa in Palm Heights Estate, the secluded, heavily-guarded paradise where the ultra-rich slept soundly, felt unbearably long. Yet, she didn't utter a word, choosing instead to hold onto him like a fragile secret she had to protect.
When the car finally pulled up, the guards were swift. With practiced ease, they helped Damien into the house and up to his master bedroom.
Eva followed silently, her eyes trailing him as if tethered by invisible string. Once he was laid carefully on the massive bed, she knelt beside him and exhaled heavily. Then, almost gently, she slipped off his shoes.
"You helped me when I was sick in Mexico," she whispered, brushing a hand over his ankle as if to remember. "So... I'll return the favor, alright? One good turn deserves another." She gave a small smug smile, more to herself than to him.
She stood and stretched. "Honestly, I should be heading home. But since I'm already here... let me whip up something for you. Maybe hangover soup or ginger broth... Who knows what billionaires like to eat when they're drunk?" She glanced over at him dramatically. "No input? Figures."
She gave another exaggerated sigh before spinning on her heels to head toward the kitchen. Just as she disappeared into the hallway, Damien's eyes flew open. And for the first time in what felt like forever, a laugh escaped his lips, soft, stifled, and full of something she'd unknowingly stirred in him.