Michaella, a gifted writer, finds herself haunted by the memories of a love that slipped through her fingers. As she pens down her heartache and cherished moments with Gabrielle, an architect whose charm and warmth once made her world brighter, she...
The morning after her date with Damien, Michaella woke up to the sound of her phone buzzing incessantly on the nightstand. She groaned, rolling over and grabbing the phone to see what the commotion was about. A flood of messages, notifications, and missed calls filled her screen. She blinked at the sheer volume of it.
Then she saw the message from Sarah, her assistant:
"Michaella, we have a situation. Pictures of you and Damien at the bar last night are all over the internet. The press is already running with it, calling it a new romance. Fans are going wild. You need to address this before it blows up more."
Her heart stopped for a moment. The calm, intimate night she shared with Damien had apparently not been as private as she thought. She quickly opened her social media, her stomach sinking as she saw the hundreds of DMs from followers, all asking the same thing: "Is it true? Are you dating Damien Knight?"
Scrolling further, her breath caught when she saw the pictures. Damien, in all his commanding presence, sitting close to her at the bar, his hand resting casually on her lower back as they laughed together. They looked... like a couple. Her cheeks flushed. She hadn't realized how intimate they must have seemed to others.
Before she could even process what to do, her phone buzzed again—this time, it was a call. She didn't need to look at the screen to know who it was.
Damien.
She hesitated, her thumb hovering over the screen, but after a beat, she answered.
"Good morning, beautiful," his voice was smooth, confident, as if he wasn't remotely bothered by the storm brewing online.
"Damien..." Michaella began, her voice tight with anxiety. "Did you see—?"
"I saw it." He cut her off, his tone calm, almost amused. "The media loves to make something out of nothing. But don't worry about it. I'll handle it."
Michaella blinked. His complete lack of concern almost unsettled her. "Damien, this is serious. People are already talking. I don't know what to say or how to—"
"Listen," he interrupted again, his voice firm now, commanding in a way that sent a shiver down her spine. "I want you to come to my office. We'll talk about it in person."
She frowned, feeling a mix of anxiety and defiance. "Damien, I don't think that's a good idea. It'll only make things worse if I show up there. The rumours—"
"Forget the rumours," he said, his tone lowering. "Be ready in half an hour. I'm sending my driver to pick you up. It's safer that way, and we need to discuss this."
Michaella opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, he added, "Trust me, Michaella. Let me handle this. I'll see you soon."
The call ended before she had a chance to refuse.
True to his word, Damien's sleek black car was parked outside her apartment within thirty minutes. Michaella stood at her window, biting her lip. The last thing she wanted was to be seen in public with him again, but something about the way Damien had spoken, the quiet authority in his voice, made it difficult to refuse.
She took a deep breath, threw on a casual yet elegant outfit, and made her way outside. The driver opened the door for her without a word, and soon, they were weaving through the city streets toward Damien's office.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
When she arrived at his building, Michaella's heart raced. It wasn't just the situation with the press that had her on edge—it was Damien himself. The undeniable pull she felt toward him. She couldn't deny how magnetic he was, how effortlessly he commanded attention, and how part of her was drawn to the dangerous allure he exuded.
The elevator ride to the top floor felt like an eternity. When the doors finally opened, she was greeted by Damien's assistant, who guided her to his office.
"Mr. Knight will be with you shortly," the assistant said with a knowing smile before leaving Michaella alone in the spacious, sleek room. The view from the massive windows overlooked the entire city, and for a moment, Michaella felt small in comparison.
Then the door opened, and Damien strode in, looking every bit the powerful man, she knew he was. His suit was impeccably tailored, his expression calm but intense. He walked over to her without hesitation, his eyes locking onto hers.
"You came," he said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.
"You didn't really give me much of a choice," Michaella replied, crossing her arms. "What's the plan, Damien? How do we fix this?"
Damien chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Fix it? Who says it needs fixing?"
She stared at him, incredulous. "The rumours are out of control. People are already assuming we're together, and we've only just—"
"Let them assume what they want," he interrupted, stepping closer to her. His gaze was unwavering, and the air between them felt charged. "I don't care about the press. What I care about is you."
Michaella's breath caught in her throat. "Damien, this is serious. I can't afford to be reckless."
"And you think I'm being reckless?" He raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a faint smile. "I don't play games, Michaella. I go after what I want. And right now, I want you."
The bluntness of his words sent a wave of heat through her, but she forced herself to stay grounded. "You barely know me," she whispered, her voice faltering.
"Maybe," Damien conceded, his voice low and smooth as he stepped even closer, until the space between them was almost non-existent. "But I'm not like most men. I don't need years to know when I want something—or someone."
His hand reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. The touch was so simple, yet it sent her heart racing.
"I told you last night," Damien continued, his voice soft but firm, "I don't like waiting. But for you? I will."
His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. There was a tension between them, an electric pull that was impossible to ignore. Michaella felt it—the desire, the intrigue, the dangerous allure of letting herself fall into whatever this was. But she couldn't. Not yet.
She swallowed hard, taking a step back, breaking the spell. "Damien... this is too fast. I need time."
Damien's eyes darkened, but he nodded, respecting the distance she put between them. "Time is something I can give you," he said, his voice steady, though there was an edge of impatience beneath it. "But don't make me wait too long."
Michaella felt a shiver run down her spine at the intensity in his gaze. She knew he wasn't used to hearing no. And yet, here he was, giving her the space she asked for, even though everything about him screamed power and control.
She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "Thank you," she whispered, feeling a strange mix of relief and longing. "I appreciate that."
Damien's lips twitched into a small smile. "You'll come around," he said confidently, his voice low and intimate. "You know where to find me when you do."
As Michaella left Damien's office, her mind was racing. The media storm, the rumours, the undeniable attraction she felt for him—it was all too much. Yet, as she stepped back into the waiting car, she couldn't help but feel a strange sense of anticipation.
She glanced at her phone, still buzzing with notifications from fans and followers, and sighed. This wasn't going to be easy, but then again, nothing about Damien Knight was easy.
And deep down, she wasn't sure if she wanted it to be.
