Aria groaned so loudly that her voice echoed across the empty floor.
"Of course it's me," she muttered, staring at the mountain of files on her desk. "Of course the new girl has to stay behind and fix the reports everyone else mysteriously forgot existed. It's like the office runs on 'let's torture Aria today.'"
The fluorescent lights above buzzed in a way that made her feel like she was in some low-budget horror movie. The office, usually filled with gossip, ringing phones, and clacking keyboards, was eerily silent. The kind of silence that made her hyperaware of every little sound — the hum of the printer cooling down, the ticking of the wall clock, her own uneven breathing.
She pulled her cardigan tighter around herself. "This is fine. Totally fine. Just me, these files, and the ghost of overworked interns past."
Her phone buzzed, startling her so much she almost knocked over her coffee cup. A text from her roommate lit up the screen:
> Don't stay too long at work, Ari. Weird things happen in that building at night. Heard rumors.
Aria rolled her eyes but couldn't stop the tiny shiver down her spine. Weird things? Probably just nonsense spread by interns to make the place sound haunted. Still, she typed back quickly:
> Relax. Worst thing that'll happen is me accidentally stapling my finger.
She shoved the phone into her bag and got back to work. Five minutes later, the office printer — which she hadn't touched — whirred to life on its own. The sound tore through the silence. Aria nearly jumped out of her skin.
"…Okay, nope. That's not creepy at all." She forced a laugh, trying to shake it off. "Printers do that sometimes. Ghost of IT Guy past, I get it. Thanks for the reminder that you exist."
She tiptoed toward the printer anyway, curiosity outweighing common sense. A single blank sheet had come out, as if the machine just wanted to remind her it was still alive. She shook her head. "Perfect. Even the printer's messing with me now."
Aria returned to her desk, only to freeze. The hairs at the back of her neck prickled. She wasn't alone. She didn't hear footsteps, but she felt it — the unmistakable weight of someone watching.
Slowly, she turned.
Damian Blackwood stood near the glass wall, his tall frame half-shrouded in shadow. His black suit blended almost too well with the dim office, and his eyes—sharp, unreadable—were fixed on her.
Aria squeaked, clutching a file to her chest like a shield. "S-sir! I didn't know anyone else was here!"
He didn't answer right away. He had a way of filling silence, stretching it out until her nerves frayed. Finally, he stepped closer, and his deep voice rumbled through the empty space. "You shouldn't be here alone."
Aria tried for a laugh, but it came out shaky. "Trust me, I'd rather be anywhere else. Like a dentist's chair. Or a tax seminar."
One corner of his mouth twitched, almost like amusement, but the intensity in his gaze didn't soften. "This building isn't… safe at night."
Her brain scrambled. Was that… a warning? A threat? Or just his usual brand of terrifying CEO advice? She opened her mouth, but words tangled in her throat.
Damian walked past her desk, his presence so overpowering it felt like the temperature dropped a few degrees. He glanced at the files scattered around her. "Why are you here?"
"R-reports," Aria stammered. "They needed fixing, and, well, you know, I'm the queen of mistakes, so…" She trailed off, wincing at her own nervous babbling. Queen of mistakes? Really, Aria? Why don't you just tattoo that on your forehead?
Damian leaned a hand against her desk, lowering himself slightly so their eyes almost met. His gaze bore into her, dark and searching, like he could see past her clumsy words and into her very bones.
"Do you often stay behind when no one else is around?" he asked quietly.
Aria blinked. "Uh, well, no, not usually. I prefer my apartment, where my fridge lives. And my bed. And Netflix. And did I mention my fridge?"
There. That was safe. Humor was safe. Humor was her only weapon against the crushing intensity of his presence.
For a moment, she swore something flickered across Damian's face—something primal, raw—but it vanished so quickly she thought she'd imagined it. He straightened, tugging at his cufflinks. "Be more careful. This city isn't as harmless as you think."
Ominous much? Aria thought, biting her lip. Still, she couldn't stop herself from blurting, "Wait. Did… did you just come here to check on me? Or do you live in the office like some kind of… corporate vampire?"
The silence that followed was deafening. Aria wished the floor would open and swallow her whole. Corporate vampire? Did I just say that out loud?
Then, to her shock, a low chuckle escaped Damian. It was brief, controlled, but real. The sound rolled over her like velvet dipped in thunder.
"Go home, Miss Hale," he said, his voice firm again, though his eyes glinted with something unreadable. "Before you learn more than you're ready for."
Her breath hitched. More than I'm ready for? What does that even mean?
Damian turned and walked toward his office, leaving her in stunned silence. His footsteps echoed against the marble floors, and when he disappeared behind the glass doors, the air seemed lighter—like she'd been holding her breath without realizing.
Aria slumped into her chair, heart racing. She tried to laugh it off. "Okay, cool. No big deal. Just me, alone in an office with the world's most intimidating CEO-slash-maybe-vampire. Totally normal Tuesday night."
Still, as she gathered her things and shut down her computer, she couldn't shake the lingering weight of his gaze. It wasn't just intimidating. It was… something else. Something that made her instincts scream in both fear and fascination.
When she finally stepped outside, the night air hit her face like a slap. She glanced up at the skyscraper, its top floors glowing faintly against the moonlit sky. For a fleeting second, she thought she saw a shadow move behind Damian's office window—something larger than a man, something with a shape she couldn't name.
She blinked, and it was gone.
"Yeah, okay," she whispered to herself, walking quickly toward the street. "Corporate vampire. Or werewolf. Or maybe I just need sleep."
But deep down, she knew something wasn't right. Damian Blackwood wasn't just a CEO. And tonight had only scratched the surface of whatever secrets lurked in his shadows.