Taming the Storm

The office cafeteria buzzed with its usual energy, employees chatting and enjoying their midday break. Damien rarely entered the space, preferring the solitude of his office. But today, he had a reason—a burning, irrational need to confirm what he feared.

And there she was.

Serena sat at a corner table with Ryan, her laughter carrying softly over the hum of voices. She leaned slightly toward him, her face alight with amusement as Ryan gestured animatedly with his coffee cup. To anyone else, it would seem like an innocent scene—two friends catching up.

But not to Damien.

His fists clenched at his sides, the tension in his body coiled like a spring ready to snap. He knew Ryan's name. He had uncovered every detail about him during his obsessive research. But watching them together, watching her smile at him—it made his blood boil.

She brought him here. To my space.

Without another thought, Damien turned on his heel and strode back to his office, his mind racing. Minutes later, his assistant, Clara, knocked hesitantly on his door.

"Mr. Storm, Miss Bennett is here to see you."

"Good," he said curtly. "Send her in."

Serena walked in, her expression calm but curious. "You wanted to see me?"

Damien didn't waste time. "Miss Bennett, while I appreciate your dedication to your work, I must remind you that the office is not a place for personal rendezvous."

Serena blinked, caught off guard. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he said, his tone sharper now. "I saw you with your… friend. This is a professional environment, not a café for you to parade your boyfriend."

Serena stared at him, her mouth slightly agape. Then, her expression hardened. "Ryan is not my boyfriend."

"Really?" Damien leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. "Because it certainly doesn't look that way. You two seem very… close."

The insinuation in his voice made Serena's blood boil. "You don't know what you're talking about. Ryan is—"

"I don't care who he is," Damien interrupted, his voice rising slightly. "The point is, this behavior is inappropriate. You're setting a poor example for the rest of the staff."

Serena's hands clenched into fists at her sides. "Are you seriously accusing me of misconduct? Ryan is a friend. A close friend, yes, but nothing more. And if you'd bothered to listen instead of jumping to conclusions, you'd know—"

"I don't need to listen," Damien cut her off again, standing up from his chair. He towered over her, his presence overwhelming. "I've seen enough."

Serena's eyes flashed with anger. "You are unbelievable. Do you always assume the worst about people, or is it just me?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Miss Bennett," he said coldly, though the flicker of irritation in his eyes betrayed him.

She took a step closer, her voice low and sharp. "You don't know anything about my life, Damien. You don't get to dictate who I spend time with or where. And for the record, Ryan is gay."

Damien froze for a fraction of a second, but he quickly masked his reaction with a scoff. "Is that supposed to excuse your behavior?"

"You're impossible!" Serena exclaimed, throwing her hands up. "I'm not going to stand here and justify my friendships to you."

"You don't have to," Damien said, his voice dropping to a dangerous calm. "But let me be clear—this is my company, and I won't tolerate distractions. If you can't keep your personal life out of the office, then maybe you're not as professional as you claim to be."

Serena's chest rose and fell as she struggled to keep her composure. "You're such a hypocrite, Damien. You walk around this place acting like you own everyone and everything, but newsflash—you don't own me. And you never will."

The room fell silent, the weight of her words hanging heavily in the air. For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then, Damien took a step closer, his eyes locking onto hers. "Careful, Serena. You're walking a very fine line."

She met his gaze head-on, her voice steady despite the fire in her eyes. "So are you."

Without another word, Serena turned on her heel and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her.

Damien stood there, his jaw clenched, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Her defiance infuriated him, but it also fascinated him. No one had ever stood up to him like that before, and he hated how much it thrilled him.

Damn her.

As he sat back down, he found himself staring at the empty space where she had stood, her words echoing in his mind.

"You don't own me. And you never will."

The thought of her slipping further away made his chest ache, but he buried the feeling beneath layers of anger and denial. He refused to admit how much he cared—or how much he was already losing control.