> "You're quiet today," Aria said, putting Damien's coffee on his desk.
> He didn't look up. "Some days need silence."
> She waited. "And some silences feel like storms."
> His hand stopped moving on the keyboard. Just for a bit. Then, it moved again.
---
The party had changed things. Aria felt it, and the space between her and Damien felt it too. The change was small, unspoken, but real.
His eyes followed her more now. Not like he doubted her, but it was different. As if he was wondering, being careful, maybe even scared.
---
That afternoon, Damien let Aria sort his private papers. He usually kept them to himself, but today he gave her a key.
"Top drawer. Red folder. No touching the others."
She gave a nod, but her hand shook as she unlocked the drawer.
The red folder was there. Next to it was another one—black, not marked, and a bit old.
She stopped. Then she opened it.
Drawings. Again. But these were darker. Filled with anger. The edges were ripped and the lines messy, with quick notes on the sides.
And a photo.
A young Damien, happy next to a woman with kind eyes and a big smile. His mom.
Aria caught her breath.
Then she saw the news clip beneath it.
"Fashion Prodigy Damien Cross Leaves Design Life After Tragic Incident"
She read on. His mom died in a crash. Damien was driving. She had always supported him. Post her death, he closed his design firm, left fashion behind, and started CrossTech from what was left.
So that was it, she thought. That was the silence.
---
"Miss Lane."
She jumped. Damien stood in the frame, his eyes dark.
"I told you not to open others."
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice shaking. "I didn't mean to—"
"You chose to," he said coldly. "To be curious is a choice."
Aria stepped up. "I read the clip. I saw the drawings. You were great."
He stood still.
"You still are."
His jaw clenched. "Greatness doesn't count when it ruins everything."
"You didn't ruin her."
"I was driving."
Aria's heart hurt. "It was not on you."
He looked away. "It was my fault."
"No," she said strong. "It was sorrow."
Then he truly looked at her. And for the first time, she saw it. The pain. The guilt. The fear.
"You don't know me," he spoke quiet.
"I want to."
---
Next day, Damien was more cold. No looks. No talks. Just tasks and quiet.
Aria felt the gap like a wall. But she did not step back.
Instead, she drew.
Late at night, in her place, she let her feelings flow onto paper. Designs born from Damien's past work. Forms that told of loss, toughness, and new starts.
She did not know why. Maybe to see more of him. Maybe to fix her own hurt.
---
A week later, Lena asked Aria to lunch.
"You look worn," Lena said, drinking her tea.
"I've been busy."
"Or thinking about my brother."
Aria gave a weak smile. "He's… hard to read."
Lena leaned in. "He's broken. But not past mending."
Aria waited. "He blames himself for your mom."
Lena's eyes dimmed. "We all did. For a time. But he never let it go."
Aria nodded. "He's smart. But he's buried it."
Lena touched her hand. "If anyone can find it, it's you."
---
Back at work, Aria found a note on her desk.
"Conference Room. 7 p.m. Alone."
She frowned. It was Damien's writing.
At 7, she went in. The room was dim. On the table was her sketch pad.
Damien was there.
"You forgot this in the printer."
She blushed. "I didn't mean to—"
"You made these."
"Yes."
He picked up one. "This one. It's known."
"I got it from your old stuff."
He looked at her. "You looked into me."
"I wanted to know you."
A long quiet.
"You've got skill," he said at last. "But take chances."
"I'm not scared of you."
He moved closer. "Maybe you should be."
Aria faced him. "Why?"
"Because I don't know what I'll do if you keep getting in."
Her breath stopped.
"I don't want to break you," she whispered. "I want to see you."
He stared at her. Then turned.
"Keep the sketches. I'll look at them."
---
That night, Aria couldn't sleep. Her heart was wild. Damien's words played over in her head.
"I don't know what I'll do if you keep getting in."
It wasn't a threat. It was him opening up.
And it scared her.
---
Next morning, Damien was not there. A note on her desk read:
"Out for a meet. Back by noon. Look at the merger files."
She did. But her thoughts were elsewhere.
At noon, he was back. Quiet. Tight.
"Julian made a bid," he said.
Aria blinked. "For you?"
"For you."
Her heart fell. "What?"
"He wants you to design for Virex. On your own."
Aria took a breath. "Did you say yes?"
"I told him to get lost."
She stared. "Why?"
Damien looked at her. "Because you're mine."
His words hung there.
"I mean," he changed, "you're on contract."
Aria moved close. "Is that all?"
He didn't reply.