Whispers of a forgetten love

Evelyn woke up with a scowl, her mood already ruined by the thought of starting her new job. She tossed the covers aside and sat on the edge of her bed, glaring at the floor. Of all the things Damian could've done, he had to send her to his stupid, overpriced hotel.

She knew exactly what this was—some kind of punishment. He probably stuck her in a job she didn't want, something miserable like a receptionist, dealing with entitled guests all day. Or maybe housekeeping, scrubbing floors and changing sheets while he sat in his office, enjoying the show.

"Asshole," she muttered under her breath as she got ready.

Still, she wasn't about to let him see her crack. She pulled on a fitted blouse, sleek black pants, and heels, brushing her hair into a neat ponytail. If she had to endure this, she'd at least look the part.

By the time she arrived at the hotel, her irritation was barely contained. The building itself was obnoxiously luxurious, towering over the city with its sleek glass exterior. Inside, the air smelled of expensive cologne and fresh flowers, and the marble floors were polished enough to reflect her scowl. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, casting a warm golden glow over the lobby.

She barely had time to take it all in before a woman at the front desk looked up. "Evelyn Carter?"

"Yeah."

The woman gave a polite smile. "Mr. Damian is expecting you. Please, follow me."

Evelyn's stomach twisted as she followed the receptionist through the halls, her heels clicking against the pristine floor. When they reached a set of towering glass doors, the woman knocked once before pushing them open.

Damian sat behind an expansive desk, the city skyline stretching behind him. He didn't even glance up from his laptop as she stepped inside.

"You're late," he said coolly.

Evelyn's jaw clenched. "It's literally my first day."

"Exactly," he said, finally looking up. "You should've been here before me."

She bit back a retort, crossing her arms instead. "What am I even doing here? What job did you stick me with?"

Damian leaned back in his chair, studying her with something unreadable in his gaze. "You're my personal assistant and secretary."

Her breath hitched. "What?"

"You heard me." He motioned to the chair in front of his desk. "Sit."

Evelyn stayed rooted in place, her mind racing. Out of all the jobs he could've given her, why this? Why put her so close to him?

When she didn't move, Damian's lips curved into something dangerously close to a smirk. "What's wrong? Not what you expected?"

No. It wasn't. And that was exactly why it unsettled her.

Evelyn sat at her desk, gripping her pen so tightly that she was sure it would snap in half. It had been only a week since she started working as Damian's personal assistant, and she was already on the verge of losing her mind.

The office was spacious, with a modern, sleek design—black marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a massive bookshelf filled with business-related books that she doubted Damian ever read. They shared the space, but while his desk was large and strategically positioned near the windows, hers was smaller and placed closer to the door, like she was some kind of secretary on standby.

Which, apparently, she was.

"Evelyn," Damian's voice cut through the silence.

She closed her eyes for a second, bracing herself. "Yes, sir?" she said through gritted teeth.

"Go get me a coffee. Black. No sugar."

Her fingers twitched. This was the third time today. She turned in her chair, giving him a tight smile. "You know there's a coffee machine right there?" She pointed to the expensive espresso machine sitting in the corner of the office.

Damian didn't even look up from his laptop. "Did I ask for commentary?"

Evelyn inhaled sharply, biting her tongue before pushing herself up from her seat. She grabbed her phone and stomped out of the office, barely resisting the urge to slam the door behind her.

Every single day, it was the same thing.

Get me coffee. Bring me lunch. Refill my water. Print this document. Evelyn, schedule that meeting. Evelyn, cancel that meeting. Evelyn, go downstairs and pick up my dry cleaning.

She knew he was doing it on purpose. He was getting some sick satisfaction out of making her run around like his personal errand girl, knowing she couldn't do a damn thing about it.

Because she needed this job.

Her rent was overdue. The electricity bill was piling up. She barely had enough left for groceries. And with no savings to fall back on, she had no choice but to swallow her pride and endure his petty torment.

When she returned with his coffee, she placed it on his desk a little harder than necessary, the cup making a dull thud.

Damian arched an eyebrow. "Problem?"

She plastered on a sweet smile. "Not at all."

He smirked like he didn't believe her, then took a sip. "Too hot. Let it cool next time before bringing it to me."

Evelyn nearly blacked out from rage.

She took her seat again, her hands curling into fists under the desk. She had spent years working in that damn coffee shop, and now she was right back to serving drinks—just to a much more insufferable customer.

Minutes later, just as she was starting to relax, Damian spoke again.

"I'm hungry. Go get me something to eat."

Evelyn shot him a glare. "There's a kitchen downstairs."

"And yet, I want you to get it for me."

Her nails dug into her palms.

One day. One day, she was going to snap. But not today. Because until she could find a better job, she was stuck playing servant to the most infuriating man she had ever met.

Damian sat at his desk, staring blankly at the city skyline beyond his office windows. His jaw was tight, his fingers clenched into fists on the armrests of his chair.

He had lost the contract.

A multi-million-dollar deal, one he had spent months negotiating, slipped right through his fingers. It wasn't just a loss—it was a humiliation. His competitors would be celebrating his failure, and his investors would be questioning his abilities.

Evelyn could tell something was wrong the moment she stepped into the office. His usual arrogant remarks were absent, replaced by an unsettling silence. He didn't send her to get coffee, didn't make her run any pointless errands. He just sat there, brooding.

By the time evening rolled around, he finally spoke.

"We're going out."

Evelyn frowned. "What?"

"To drink." He stood, grabbing his coat. "And you're coming with me."

"I—" She was about to protest, but the look on his face stopped her. He wasn't in the mood for an argument. With a sigh, she grabbed her purse and followed him out.

——

The bar was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of whiskey and cigarette smoke. Damian had downed three glasses before Evelyn even finished her first. He wasn't the type to get drunk—at least, she'd never seen him like this before. But tonight, he was drinking like he wanted to forget everything.

Halfway through his fifth glass, he leaned back, eyes slightly unfocused as he looked at her.

"You know…" His voice was lower than usual, rough around the edges. "I feel like I know you from somewhere."

Evelyn blinked. "What?"

Damian tilted his head, studying her. "There's something… familiar about you."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, probably because you've been torturing me at work every day."

He chuckled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "No… it's different."

Evelyn didn't take him seriously. He was drunk—probably just saying nonsense.

When he finally got too wasted to sit upright, she sighed and grabbed his arm. "Come on. You need to go home."

——

Getting Damian into his house was one thing. Getting him to his bedroom was another.

Evelyn gritted her teeth as she half-carried, half-dragged him through the hallway. He was way heavier than he looked, and by the time she finally got him onto his bed, she was breathing hard, exhausted.

Just as she was about to leave, his hand shot out, grabbing hers.

"Don't go," he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

Evelyn froze. "Damian—"

"Do you really want to leave?" His grip tightened slightly. "Stay."

Her heart pounded in her chest. She hesitated.

"I feel like shit," he muttered. "Make me hangover soup… and bring me something for the headache."

She sighed. "Fine. But after that, I'm going home."

——

She didn't go home.

After making him soup and forcing him to take medicine, he kept begging her to stay. "Just for tonight," he murmured, his voice laced with exhaustion.

Evelyn wasn't sure why she agreed. Maybe because he actually looked vulnerable for once. Maybe because, despite everything, she could tell he really needed someone there.

So she stayed.

She sat beside him, gently running her fingers through his hair as his breathing evened out. He had insisted she pet him to sleep—something that shocked her, considering how cold and distant he usually was. But tonight, he was different.

And before she knew it, she had dozed off too.

——

When she woke up, something felt… off.

Her body was warm, a heavy weight pressed against her chest. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open—only to find Damian wrapped around her like she was some kind of human pillow.

His head rested on her chest, his arms securely wrapped around her waist, holding her close. His breathing was slow and deep, completely at ease.

Evelyn's entire body went stiff. What. The. Hell.

"Damian!" She shoved him hard.

He groaned as he rolled over, groggily blinking awake. "What the—"

When he saw her, his brows furrowed in confusion. "Evelyn?"

She pointed at him, her face red. "What the hell are you doing?!"

His eyes widened as he looked around, realizing he was in his own bed—with her.

Evelyn barely had time to process what had happened before Damian's voice cut through the air like a blade.

"What the hell are you doing in my house?!"

She winced, rubbing her temples. "Could you not scream first thing in the morning?"

"Answer the damn question, Evelyn!" His sharp gaze pinned her down. "Why are you here?"

She groaned, already exhausted. "You were drunk, sir. You dragged me here, begged me to stay, and then passed out. That's what happened."

His brows furrowed. "I don't believe you."

She rolled her eyes. "But I am saying the truth ."

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his messy hair before muttering, "Get ready. I'm driving you to work."

——

When they arrived at the office, no one suspected a thing. Damian was her boss, she was his secretary—it was normal for them to come in at the same time. But the moment they entered their shared office, he turned to her, arms crossed.

"Tell me again. What exactly happened last night?"

Evelyn sighed. "I already told you."

"And I don't trust your version of events."

She huffed. "Am being sincere."

Unfortunately, their conversation wasn't as private as they thought. A staff member passing by overheard enough to get the wrong idea, and within an hour, rumors were flying.

By the time Evelyn went downstairs to grab coffee, she noticed the stares. People whispered as she walked past, their voices just loud enough for her to catch fragments.

"That's her. The prostitute trying to flirt with the boss."

"Unbelievable. She's acting innocent, but we know the truth."

Evelyn clenched her fists, trying to ignore them. But before she could leave, a woman stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

Angel.

Evelyn recognized her—one of the staff members who had been working there for years. She was tall, beautiful, and most importantly, she clearly had a thing for Damian.

"I knew it," Angel sneered, crossing her arms. "You think you can just come in here and steal him?"

Evelyn blinked. "Excuse me?"

Angel scoffed. "I know Damian first. If anyone's going to have him, it's me."

Evelyn stared at her like she had lost her mind. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You're disgusting," Angel spat. "Throwing yourself at him like some cheap—"

"That's enough."

The room fell silent.

Damian's voice cut through the air like ice. He stood near the entrance, his expression unreadable, but his tone sharp enough to make Angel freeze.

The customers who had been watching the scene unfold turned to look at him. He glanced around before addressing them.

"There's been a misunderstanding," he said coolly. "I apologize for the disturbance."

Then, he turned his cold stare to Angel.

"If she tries to flirt with me or not, it's my business," he said flatly. "Angel, I didn't tell you I'm a weakling and need someone to fight for me. Next time you say something like this, you will be sacked. This is your last warning. She is my secretary; you have no right to insult her."

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Whispers followed.

"The cold-hearted Mr. Damian… defended someone?"

"Evelyn is so lucky."

Angel's face turned pale as she stammered, "I—I was just—"

"Enough," Damian said. "Get back to work."

Then, without another word, he grabbed Evelyn's wrist and dragged her back to the office.

Evelyn was still in shock. She had expected him to ignore the situation—hell, maybe even enjoy watching her struggle. But he had defended her. Publicly.

As soon as they entered the office, he dropped her wrist and sat down like nothing had happened.

Evelyn hesitated before asking, "Why did you…?"

"It was bad for business," he cut in, not looking at her.

Liar.

But she didn't push it. Instead, she took her seat, and they continued working in silence.