Eva in his Space
Eva stood awkwardly at the doorway of Damien's room, clutching the small overnight bag he'd insisted she bring. The room smelled like him, clean, masculine, faint hints of sandalwood.
"Come in," Damien said without looking up from the documents on his desk. "And close the door."
She obeyed, eyes darting around. His space was immaculate, almost intimidating in its precision. She felt suddenly small in it.
Damien leaned casually against the chair-frame, watching her with that unreadable expression of his, the one that always made her feel like he could hear every thought in her head.
"So," she started, fiddling with the hem of her dress, "this is, temporary?"
His lips quirked. "That depends. On how well you behave."
Heat flushed her cheeks, not because of his words, but because of the way his gaze dipped for a moment, lingering in a way that sent a pulse of awareness through her entire body.
Damien pushed away from the documents and stood up, as he crossed the room, slow, deliberate steps. She held her breath as he stopped in front of her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him. His fingers brushed a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear, but instead of the fierce kiss she expected, his touch lingered, gentle, lingering, almost reverent.
"You're still sore," he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly along her jaw. "I could take you tonight, but I won't."
Eva's heart stuttered. "Why not?" she whispered, almost challenging.
A small, knowing smile tugged at his lips. "Because, little firecracker, I want you at full strength when I finally have you again, I don't want my woman passing out on me during lovemaking." His eyes glinted with heat, and she quickly looked away shyly.
He stepped back, leaving her slightly dizzy, and gestured toward the bed. "Get in. You need rest."
That night, when she finally slid under the sheets, Eva curled under the thick sheets, determined to keep her distance. Damien lay on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, silently observing her.
She tried to keep her distance, it seemed polite, but Damien's arm reached around her waist and pulled her firmly against him.
She felt his weight settle beside her suddenly, they lay in the same bed for the first time as a couple.
"You're warm," she murmured, more to herself than to him.
"Mmh. And you're restless," he replied, already sounding like a man who knew exactly what kind of sleeper she was.
And that night, Damien experienced the full scope of Eva's terrible sleeping habits. She stole all the blankets within an hour.
Ten minutes later, she was sprawled diagonally across the bed, one leg hooked over his waist, her hand resting on his stomach. Damien's brow twitched.
Another fifteen minutes, and she was muttering softly in her sleep, one knee digging into his ribs.
By the third repositioning, she had somehow claimed his entire pillow. Damien stared at the ceiling, exhaling slowly.
He could have moved her, but instead, he shifted just enough to make space. Watching her sleep, completely unguarded, lips slightly parted, lashes fluttering from dreams, was unexpected… calming.
Her blush burned deep, but he only brushed a stray hair from her face, eyes lingering just a little too long.
She kicked him, twice, without even waking up. At some point, she sprawled across him, effectively trapping him beneath her.
He didn't move her. Not once.
Instead, he lay there in the dark, one arm draped protectively around her, the faintest smile playing on his lips. He had tamed boardrooms, rivals, and entire empires, but somehow, managing Eva's chaos in his bed felt like the most natural victory of all.
When dawn crept in, he was still there, her hair a wild mess against his chest, the blankets tangled around their legs.
She woke to find herself pressed against him, her face tucked into the crook of his neck. She stirred, blinking up at him.
Then came Damien's low and amused voice.
"You're a terrible sleeper, Eva Lopez. But, I think I can manage."
"You didn't sleep?" she asked in low voice almost like a whisper
"I did," he lied easily. "Enough."
What he didn't say was that he could get used to this, every kick, every stolen blanket, every soft little sigh she made in her sleep.
The sound of running water came from the en suite bathroom. Damien was in the shower, a rare moment when Eva knew she had the room to herself.
She slipped out of bed, her bare feet making no sound against the marble floor. Without wasting time, she padded to the kitchen.
Eva rolled up her imaginary sleeves. The fridge was well-stocked, the pantry even more so. She moved quickly, thinking of something perfect she could make for her poor husband she had suffered with her bad sleeping habits. Soon, the aroma of sautéed garlic and butter mingled with fresh herbs filled the air. The sizzle of eggs, the gentle simmer of spiced oatmeal, the sweet fragrance of freshly squeezed orange juice, it all danced together.
By the time Damien emerged from the bathroom, dressed in a sharp suit with his tie still loose around his neck, he stopped short. The dining table, usually bare save for a vase and a few untouched placemats, was now a display of warm, inviting dishes. Golden-brown toast, scrambled eggs with fresh chives, smoked salmon, a fruit platter glistening under the morning light.
For a moment, he just stood there, as if his mind couldn't quite process the sight.
Eva, wearing a pink top and a jean bump shorts, smiled softly. "Good morning, your breakfast."
He slowly approached the table, pulling out a chair. "When was the last time I even ate breakfast,?" he muttered, almost to himself. He couldn't remember. The maids had tried over the years, but the food was always bland, lifeless. He'd stopped bothering.
But now, the first bite made him freeze. His eyes shut involuntarily, a low hum escaping his throat. Perfect seasoning. Warm, soft texture. Balanced flavors. This was it, the exact taste he'd been asking for, the one the maids never seemed able to achieve.
"You," he set his fork down, studying her with something unreadable in his gaze, "are dangerous."
Eva only tilted her head in curiosity. "Dangerous?"
"Yes." He picked up his fork again, his lips twitching faintly. "You might make me enjoy being married."
She didn't eat. She simply sat across from him, chin resting on her palm, watching him as if trying to memorize every movement, the way he held the utensils, the slight narrowing of his eyes when something delighted him.
When he was done, he leaned back in his chair. "You didn't eat."
"I'm not hungry yet," she replied softly.
He studied her for a long moment, then smirked. "Eat with me next time. I don't like the idea of letting my little wife starve herself. Especially when you'll certainly need all the energy"
Eva quickly look away shyly again, 'Mr.bully is at it again, only God knows what he means by that word, you'll certainly need all the energy,' she said in her heart.
Damien wiped his mouth with the linen napkin, then stood, fastening the last button of his suit jacket.
"Eric is starting to complain about your late coming, try to be early today" he said, his voice casual, but his eyes lingered on her a beat longer than necessary. "I don't want my wife being look down on by my PA, okay?"
Eva only nodded, though there was a flicker of something in her gaze. She rose from her chair, walking him to the door like a quiet shadow.
The driver was already waiting outside, but Damien paused on the threshold. "And, Eva…" His voice was lower now, almost reluctant.
"Yes?"
"About breakfast." He tilted his head slightly, the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. "Make it again tomorrow."
Before she could reply, he was gone.
Eva stood there for a moment, her heart doing strange little skips. She shut the door, leaning against it. It wasn't much just a meal, but she could feel the way it had nudged something in him, something that made her feel so happy she couldn't explain.
Meanwhile, Damien's thoughts were far from business as the car rolled toward Lopez Empire's skyscraper building. He had spent years keeping his private life walled off, letting no one in. Yet that simple table full of food, waking up to Eva on his bed, her scents, everything about Eva, had made him feel so happy he couldn't describe it. And the thought that he could loose that kind of happiness unsettled him more than any boardroom attack.
By the time he stepped into his office, his mask was back on. His assistant rattled off the day's agenda, but he wasn't fully listening. Instead, between reviewing contracts and returning calls, his mind kept drifting to the image of Eva at the table, sitting in that beautiful pink top and bump shorts, watching him as though he was the only man in the world.
Around noon, he gave in. Pulling out his phone, he typed a brief message.
💌Damien: Wifey come to my office. Now!
When Eva got the message she had rolled her eyes, despite how she felt butterflies in her stomach. Then she gently stood up and saunters to his office.
When she arrived, she stepped in hesitantly, her small frame swallowed by the massive space.
"Sit," he ordered, gesturing to the chair opposite his desk. He didn't look up immediately, continuing to sign a stack of documents. She obeyed, smoothing her skirt and folding her hands in her lap.
Eva sat quietly in a chair opposite Damien as she looked around his office. In paper she was Mrs Lopez, his wife, but she couldn't even entertain the thought alone. Everything about him looks way too high that she didn't dare to think she could fit in. He was just too good to be true.
The space was calm and cool, sunlight spilling through the tall glass windows and catching in the dark sheen of his desk.
Eva kept stealing glances at him. The faint scratch of his pen filled the silence until he finally set it aside and leaned back in his chair.
For a moment, he just studied her, not as a CEO watching an employee, but as a man regarding a woman he now had the right to call his wife. He could see her yawning as she looks sleepy.
"What happened to you? Why do you look so fatigued?" He asked calmly.
"We had a lot to do today. I have been running around practically all day" she answered truthfully.
"I see. I noticed you act strong, but the truth is, you are quite fragile and weak. You've only been here a few minutes," he said, "and yet you look like you've been awake for two days straight. But it's okay. You had a lot to do today. I think that explains it"
Eva gave a small, nervous laugh. "Yeah, It's, been a long week."
"That's not the kind of face I want to see in my office," Damien replied, his eyes narrowing slightly, not in anger, but in sharp observation. "Fatigue makes people sloppy."
She shifted in her seat. "I'll be fine."
"Maybe," he said, "but I'm not here to see how far you can push yourself before you break." He gestured toward a door to the right, partially hidden behind a tall bookshelf.
"That's my private room. Go there and rest for a while. There's a couch, pillows, everything you need. No one will disturb you."
Eva hesitated. "You want me to, sleep in your office during work hours?"
His lips curved faintly, almost a smile. "It's our office now. And if you're going to stay married to me, you'd better get used to the idea that I don't like my people running themselves into the ground, and most importantly, accepting my kind gestures."
For some reason, her chest tightened at the way he said married to me. Without another word, she rose and walked toward the door he'd pointed at, her fingertips brushing the smooth brass handle.
Behind her, Damien had already returned to his papers, but his eyes flicked up for just a second, watching her disappear into his private space with a quiet, unreadable expression.