Damien

Chapter 9

Serena Mclane's P. O. V

"Are you sure you're alright?" I pursue after him.

Entering into his office, I scan my surroundings and am impressed with what I see. The walls consist of dark wood panels with bookshelves stacked neatly in corners. The floors are a slightly lighter colour than the walls but are not too light. A big mahogany desk is placed in the middle—facing towards the door— with black leather seats which are placed in front of it.

It seems odd having such dark colour schemes but the huge floor to ceiling window contradicts the colours as it lets in streams of sunlight, lighting the room up adequately without any need for artificial lighting.

My gaze directs back to him as he mutters a low curt 'fine.' Only now do I take note of the presence of another man. The very same one who we just met in the elevator.

He's adorable in a way.

Adorkable, if I dare say.

"I haven't introduced myself," I say as I place my hand out for him to shake, throwing Damien a pointed look while I do so, "I'm Serena Mclane." I say smiling. The guy who doesn't appear to be much older than me, smiles and shakes my hand.

"I'm Max, it's nice to meet you."

"I need the other files I told you about." Damien says loudly as he leans across his desk, rifling through papers.

"Yes sir." Max immediately gets into action, passing me a smile he fixes his square black glasses, and then rushes down the hall once more. I'm sure, working for a man like Damien Stryker will make anyone rush around as if the hounds of hell are chasing after them.

And how lucky I am that I'll be having the pleasure of working with him.

"So what should I do?" I ask, wanting to help.

Damien seems to be busy walking up to one of the panels— not covered by a bookshelf– and then pressing a certain place. I curiously look around his shoulder only to see a section of the panel slide back and instead reveal a black box.

A safe.

Damien puts his hand on a small screen as it scans his hand and then makes a weird robotic noise, he punches in a passcode, the door to the safe swinging open. I'm surprised Damien has let me see he has a safe in his office but I mean after all the time we are going to spend together, I'll be bound to know a few things here and there.

Damien reaches in and takes out a small black box.

Turning towards me, I find myself practically shoved in his chest, way too close, and so I quickly take a –comfortable enough–step backwards.

"We are supposed to be engaged and that entails a number of things. First off, you need a ring." Damien simply says while opening the lid of the small black velvet box. My eyes widen and mouth drops open as I glance from him to the box repeatedly. It is expected of me to wear a ring but it still takes me be surprise.

"It's a family heirloom." He murmurs.

Just then my ears perk up, not due to what he said, but the way he said it. Are my ears playing tricks on me or am I really just incredibly daft to not have noticed it before? But I swear, I heard a trace of an accent.

My eyebrows furrow as I glance at him once again. It isn't strong but it is there, probably by the way he pronounced a certain word that it just jumps out at me. It definitely isn't strong, almost as if one goes to a country and spends quite a long time there that they pick up an accent but not enough time that it actually interlaces within their words.