Elena stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the cuffs of her cream blouse for the fifth time. Her nerves were coiled tight beneath her skin, and no amount of deep breathing seemed to help.
*You can do this,* she told herself.
*You have to.*
She hadn't slept much since the interview. The image of Damon Blackwood's face—hard, unreadable, and so painfully familiar—was burned into her mind. He hadn't said a word about their past. Not a single glance hinted at recognition. But Elena knew better.
He remembered.
He just didn't care.
The elevator ride to the 27th floor felt longer than usual, each floor dinging like a warning bell. As the doors opened, she stepped into the same sleek office space and was greeted by the same receptionist, this time with a clipboard and an earpiece.
"You'll be working under the executive assistant, Jenna Carter. She'll brief you on protocols and assign your tasks for the week."
Elena nodded. "Thank you."
She was led to a corner workstation—neat, cold, and too close to *his* office. Every time the frosted glass door opened, she tensed, half-expecting Damon to step out.
"New girl?" a voice asked beside her.
She turned to see a tall, well-dressed guy with an easy smile and sharp eyes. "I'm Aiden. Marketing team."
"Elena," she replied.
"Welcome to the chaos. Word is, you're the only intern who got hired directly by *him.* Impressive."
She gave a tight smile. "I guess I'm lucky."
"Or cursed," Aiden smirked. "Damon Blackwood doesn't just hire people—he tests them. Relentlessly."
Before she could respond, the office door opened. Damon stepped out, suit crisp, gaze sweeping the room. His eyes briefly landed on Elena, unreadable as ever.
"Elena," he said, voice calm but commanding. "My office. Now."
Whispers rippled. Heads turned.
She stood and followed him in, trying not to show her nerves. The door closed behind her with a soft click.
He didn't sit. He stood by the window, hands in his pockets.
"I don't tolerate mistakes," he said without turning.
"I understand."
"You'll be assisting with the Baxter presentation. You're starting from the ground up—data collection, formatting, visuals. You report to me directly."
She swallowed. "Okay."
He finally turned to face her. His gaze locked on hers—sharp, dark, and unreadable.
"I hired you because you said you could prove yourself. Don't waste the opportunity."
There it was again. That cold professionalism. Like the summer they'd spent together, the promises, the heartbreak—it had all been erased.
But Elena wasn't here to rekindle anything. She was here to build a life of her own.
Still, as she left his office, her heart thundered against her ribs. She didn't need him to acknowledge the past.
Because one way or another, the past was about to catch up with them both.