The Act

•13•

Tugging on the sleeves on my sweater, I gnawed on my cheek as I stared up at the skyscraper in front of me. For the past few minutes, I've been having an internal debate on whether or not I should go in.

It's been two days since Damien took me to his house. It's been two days since we made out on his piano bench. Just the thought of that night makes me want to cringe at the way I lost control and gave in.

Taking a breath, I marched into the building and headed straight for the directory. If I don't do this now, I may never do it. After getting the floor Damien's office is located on, I started for the elevator. The door opened shortly after I mashed the 'up' button. Gnawing on my cheek again, I stared at the floor indicator and counted the floors in my head.

51, 52,53...

On the fifty-fourth floor, the elevator door glided open to reveal a receptionist desk. A brunette woman, whose hair was secured in a neat bun at the back of her head, tore her gaze from her computer as I approached the desk.

"How may I help you?" She spoke, her voice soft and lyrical.

"I'm here to speak with Dam–uh, Mr. Foster." I spoke.

"Mr. Foster is very busy," She stated, turning to her computer. Her nails clacked obnoxiously against the keys of her keyboard. She furrowed her freshly trimmed eyebrows. "I'm not seeing an appointment."

"I wasn't aware I had to make one," I stated, trying my best to keep my cool. The last thing I need is to make a scene. "You know what, I can wait, if you could just point me too–"

"Avery," A hand landed on the center of my back, causing me to jump. I whirled around to see Damien's eyes land on his receptionist. "I've got this, Katerina. Thank you."

I watched as the receptionist gave Damien a nod, her cheeks getting redder by the second. I held back my urge to smack the color from her cheeks as Damien whisked me into a dark room.

He flipped a switch and the dark shades that covered the ceiling to floor windows rose noiselessly. Daylight filled the room and I realized we are in his office. Bookshelves full of books decorated the walls along with a few black and white oil paintings. I stood at the door, watching as Damien tugged at his tie, taking a seat at the large desk that sat in front of the crystal-clear windows.

"I wasn't expecting you today," He started, lifting the tie above his head before tossing it on the desk. He sat back in his chair, his eyes now on me. "What's up?"

"I'm here about the other night," I announced. "That...can't happen again."

"If that's what you want, Avery," He replied, his voice taking on a serious tone. All sense of playfulness left his eyes even though a smirk still played on his lips.

"Promise me, Damien." I demanded. I could feel my pulse picking up speed. "I need you to promise me we will keep this as professional as possible."

"Avery—"

"I can't get—" I hated the way my voice wavered when I needed it to be strong. "I can't get into another relationship, Damien. I don't want too. So, I need you to promise me."

Silence blanketed the room as Damien studied me. I could feel my pulse in my throat as I waited for him to answer.

"Okay," He stated just above a whisper. He dropped his gaze, drumming his fingers on his desk in one swift movement. "We'll keep it as professional as possible. You have my word."

I nodded my head, finally feeling as though I could breathe again. "Okay."

With that, I turned on my heel and made my way toward the glass door. Opening it, I stalked straight for the elevator, not daring to look back