Ariana adjusted the collar of her blouse and checked her reflection in the glass door before entering the sleek conference room. She was there to deliver her first pitch — a branding concept for one of the firm's rising fashion tech startups.
To her surprise, Damien was already seated at the head of the table.
"You're early," she muttered, avoiding his gaze as she walked to the opposite end.
"I own the place," he replied coolly, but there was the faint trace of a smirk. "It's in my job description."
They were soon joined by a few executives, and the meeting began. Ariana took a deep breath and launched into her presentation, her voice steady, even though her nerves danced under her skin.
She could feel Damien's eyes on her the entire time.
When she clicked to the final slide and finished her pitch, there was a moment of silence — then polite nods, a few murmurs of approval.
"That was impressive," one exec said.
Damien leaned forward, fingers steepled. "It was more than impressive. It was sharp, strategic, and original."
Ariana blinked, surprised by the praise.
"You have a real eye for storytelling," he added, his tone softer, more personal. "Keep it up."
She nodded stiffly, unsure of how to respond in front of the team.
Later, in the hallway, she caught up with him.
"Why did you say that?" she asked. "In there?"
"Because it's true," he said simply. Then added, "Also… maybe I wanted everyone to know I noticed you."
Her breath caught. "You shouldn't."
"I know," he said, backing away with a half-smile. "Doesn't mean I won't."
As he disappeared down the corridor, Ariana stood frozen, unsure whether to feel flattered or furious.
This job was supposed to be her escape.
Not a deeper descent into temptation.