Taming the Storm

Damien Storm was not used to distractions. His days were meticulously planned—minutes accounted for, tasks prioritized. Yet here he was, glaring at his office window with a deep frown. His mind wasn't on the upcoming investor meeting or the latest quarterly report. No, it was stuck on her.

Serena Bennett.

He hadn't meant to stop by the wellness lounge again that morning. In fact, he'd told himself he wouldn't give her another moment of his time. But curiosity—or something far more irritating—had driven him to pass by, just to "check" on the program.

And there she was, standing by the coffee machine, talking to a man he vaguely recognized as part of the marketing team.

Damien's jaw clenched at the memory. The easy way she laughed, the subtle tilt of her head as she listened, the way that man leaned closer to her—closer than necessary.

A sharp knock at his door pulled him from his thoughts.

"Come in," he barked.

Clara entered, her usual professional demeanor intact. "Sir, the documents you requested."

"Leave them on the desk," Damien said, his tone curt.

Clara hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly. "Is everything alright, Mr. Storm?"

"Yes," he snapped, though the edge in his voice betrayed him. "Just go."

As the door closed behind her, Damien let out a frustrated sigh. What was wrong with him? Why did it matter who Serena talked to?

He stood abruptly, pacing his office like a caged tiger. His usual control, his unshakable confidence—it all felt precarious.

---

Hours later, Damien found himself at the wellness lounge again, though he'd never admit it was deliberate. The room was empty save for Serena, who was busy rearranging the chairs for the next session.

"Miss Bennett," Damien said, his voice cutting through the quiet.

Serena looked up, startled for a moment before her lips curved into a smile. "Mr. Storm. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Just observing," he said casually, though his eyes scanned the room as if searching for someone.

She straightened, brushing her hands against her skirt. "Well, you're in luck. The next session starts in fifteen minutes."

"I'm not here for the session," Damien said sharply.

Serena raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Then what are you here for?"

"I saw you this morning," Damien said, his tone colder than he intended. "Talking to one of the employees."

Her smile faltered slightly. "Yes, I talk to employees often. It's part of my job."

"This seemed… personal," he said, his voice laced with accusation.

Serena blinked, clearly taken aback. "Personal? Are you seriously questioning who I talk to, Mr. Storm?"

"It's unprofessional," Damien said, though even he wasn't convinced by his excuse.

She laughed softly, a sound that both irritated and intrigued him. "Unprofessional? Or are you just jealous?"

His jaw tightened, his piercing gaze locking with hers. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Oh, I'm not," she said, her tone teasing. "But it's hard to miss the storm brewing in your eyes every time I so much as smile at someone else."

Damien stepped closer, his towering presence intimidating yet magnetic. "You're out of line, Miss Bennett."

"And you're deflecting," she countered, refusing to back down.

The tension between them crackled like a live wire. For a moment, Damien wasn't sure if he wanted to argue with her or… something else.

---

The following day, Damien found himself in the cafeteria—a place he rarely ventured. He spotted Serena instantly, her warm laugh carrying across the room. She was sitting at a table, the same marketing employee across from her.

The man leaned in, saying something that made her laugh again, and Damien felt his grip on the coffee cup tighten until his knuckles turned white.

Without thinking, he approached their table.

"Miss Bennett," he said, his voice calm but cold.

Serena looked up, her smile faltering when she saw him. "Mr. Storm. What brings you here?"

"I need a word," he said, ignoring the man entirely.

"Of course," she said, standing. She glanced at the man. "Excuse me for a moment."

Damien led her out of the cafeteria and into the hallway, his movements sharp and precise.

"Was that your boyfriend?" he asked abruptly.

Serena stared at him, shocked. "What?"

"The man you were sitting with," Damien said, his tone bordering on accusatory. "Is he your boyfriend?"

Her expression shifted from confusion to amusement. "Why do you care, Mr. Storm?"

"I don't," he said quickly, too quickly. "But if your personal relationships are interfering with your work—"

"They're not," Serena interrupted, her voice firm. "And for the record, no, he's not my boyfriend."

Damien's shoulders relaxed slightly, though he'd never admit it. "Good," he said curtly.

Serena shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "You know, Mr. Storm, for someone who claims not to care, you're awfully interested in my personal life."

Damien stepped closer, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Don't test me, Miss Bennett."

"And don't try to control me, Mr. Storm," she shot back, her voice steady.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife.

Then, to Damien's surprise, Serena smiled. Not the polite smile she often wore, but something softer, more genuine.

"If you're so concerned about me talking to other people," she said, her tone teasing, "maybe you should keep me company yourself."

Damien's lips twitched, almost forming a smile before he caught himself. "Be careful what you wish for."

Serena tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Maybe I like the challenge."

---

Back in his office, Damien sat at his desk, staring at the paperwork in front of him without actually seeing it. His mind was elsewhere—on her.

She was infuriating, challenging, and entirely too captivating for his liking.

But as much as he tried to push her from his thoughts, he couldn't.

And that terrified him.

---