Taming the Storm

Damien was in the middle of a meeting when he saw her through the glass walls of the conference room. Serena was walking across the floor, her soft curves accentuated by the tailored dress she wore. It wasn't provocative by any means—simple and professional—but on her, it was captivating.

He didn't realize he was staring until Clara tapped his arm. "Sir?"

"What?" he snapped, his voice sharp as he pulled his attention back to the discussion at hand.

"We were asking about the budget allocation," Clara explained, clearly aware of his distracted state but too smart to comment on it.

"Proceed as planned," Damien said curtly, his tone signaling that the meeting was over. He dismissed the group and leaned back in his chair, his eyes finding Serena again.

She was talking to a few employees, her head tilted slightly as she listened. The way her lips moved, the way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear—it was all so innocent, yet it drove him mad. He couldn't stop imagining those hands, that mouth, and what it would feel like to claim her.

The thought sent a surge of heat through him, and Damien cursed under his breath. He needed to get a grip.

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An Unexpected Encounter

Later in the afternoon, Damien decided to take a rare walk around the office. It was something he rarely did, but he needed a reason—any reason—to be near her.

He found her in the wellness center, seated at her desk and focused on her laptop. The sunlight streaming through the window highlighted the delicate lines of her face.

"Serena," he said, his voice cutting through the quiet.

She looked up, startled. "Mr. Storm! I didn't see you there."

"I've told you to call me Damien," he said, stepping closer.

Her cheeks turned pink, and she glanced away. "Right. Sorry. Damien."

He liked the way his name sounded coming from her lips. It was softer, more intimate.

"What are you working on?" he asked, leaning against the edge of her desk.

"Just compiling some feedback reports," she said, her voice a little nervous under his intense gaze.

He reached over, plucking a loose strand of paper from the stack on her desk. His fingers brushed hers briefly, and she flinched, pulling her hand back quickly.

"Relax," he said, smirking. "I don't bite."

Serena's blush deepened, and she busied herself with adjusting her files. "I'm not tense."

"Really?" he challenged, his tone teasing. "Because you seem like someone who doesn't know how to relax."

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and for a moment, there was a charged silence. Damien could feel the heat radiating off her, and he couldn't resist pushing her a little further.

"Do I make you nervous, Serena?" he asked, his voice dropping to a low, seductive tone.

She swallowed hard, her hands gripping the edge of her desk. "No, of course not."

"Liar," he murmured, leaning in slightly. His cologne was intoxicating, and Serena felt her breath hitch as his proximity overwhelmed her.

"I should—uh—I should get back to work," she stammered, trying to break the tension.

But Damien didn't move. Instead, he let his eyes drift lower, taking in the way her blouse hugged her frame. He wasn't subtle about it, and Serena noticed.

Her hands fluttered nervously as she adjusted her collar, the gesture only drawing his attention further.

"You're blushing," he noted, a smug smile tugging at his lips.

"No, I'm not," she said quickly, her voice unconvincing.

"You are," he said softly, his gaze locking onto hers. "And it's beautiful."

Serena's heart skipped a beat. She didn't know how to respond, so she looked away, her fingers fidgeting with a pen on her desk.

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Lingering Thoughts

As Damien left the wellness center, he couldn't stop thinking about the way she had looked at him—shy, flustered, but not entirely resistant. It thrilled him to know he had this effect on her.

But there was also something more. Something deeper.

She wasn't like the women he usually dealt with—bold, calculating, and eager to please him for the wrong reasons. Serena was genuine, and that made her even more irresistible.

Later that night, as he sat in his penthouse with a glass of whiskey in hand, Damien found his thoughts wandering back to her.

Was she single?

The question gnawed at him, stirring a possessiveness he didn't fully understand. The thought of another man touching her, kissing her, was enough to make his jaw tighten.

He needed to know.

And once he did, Damien was certain of one thing—he wouldn't stand by idly.

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End of Chapter 13