By 8:30, they were dressed and ready. Maya grabbed his medical folder and checked her bag for the third time. Everything was in place.
Outside, the morning was soft and quiet. Their neighbor, Ms. Janice, was already tending to her flowers, humming gently under her breath.
“Heading out?” she asked.
“Hospital checkup,” Maya replied.
Ms. Janice gave her a reassuring smile and reached out, squeezing her arm. “I’ll be thinking of both.”
Jamie stepped forward and gave the woman a gentle nod. “Thanks, Ms. Janice. We’ll see you later.
As they walked toward the bus stop, Maya glanced back once.
Ms. Janice had returned to her flowers, humming quietly.
It felt like a small blessing.
And in Maya’s world-small blessings meant everything.
Damien’s POV
Morning came like a curse.
No dreams. No rest. Just an ever-growing heaviness behind his eyes as the city began to stir outside the penthouse windows.
Damien didn’t bother to sleep. He couldn’t.
Sex didn’t help. Neither did the shower.
And jerking off to the fantasy of Maya-sweat-slick, trembling, whispering his name-had only made it worse.
When he stepped out of the shower, still burning with restless energy, he went straight to the bar in his suite. Poured himself a glass of scotch, hoping to drown the unwanted desire in fire and alcohol. He dropped onto the leather couch, towel slung low on his hips, and leaned back.
But his mind betrayed him.
Her again.
Maya, invading the silence. The shape of her mouth. The way she avoided his gaze, like she knew she shouldn’t draw his attention. The way she did anyway.
And his body betrayed him, too.
He did it again.
And again.
Three times in one goddamn night. Like some depraved, hormone-fueled teenager.
By 4:30 AM, he gave up on sleep altogether.
He hated mornings like this. Head pounding. Skin hot. Even ice water and another pour of scotch did nothing to cool the fire in his blood. He yanked the towel tighter around his waist, collapsed onto the edge of the bed, and sat there, breathing like he’d just run ten miles.
His body wanted something it had no right to crave.
Her.
It was pathetic. He didn’t give a damn about interns. Certainly not about romance. He’d carved that part of his life out years ago-cut it clean. If he needed release, he found someone willing, fucked, and moved on. No strings. No emotion. Women were poison. Commitment, a death sentence.
That was the rule.
Until her.
And now? She was stuck in his head like a goddamn virus.
“Pathetic,” Damien muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face.
Now he was awake, overstimulated, and violently unsatisfied. His body felt like it had been dragged through fire, and his mind? That was worse. Buzzing. Humming with a noise he couldn’t mute.
He poured black coffee with one hand and checked his s**s with the other, scanning briefs and updates he didn’t care about. Everything felt dull. Distant.
Pointless.
He should have been focused on the groundbreaking ceremony scheduled for later that morning.
It was for a new tech campus-Blackwood East, a billion-dollar expansion that would house emerging Al research, luxury co-living towers, and state-of-the-art corporate suites.
Investors would be there. Photographers. Board members.
He should have cared.
He didn’t.
He downed the rest of the coffee and glanced at the time – 5:32 AM. The event started at seven.
He had thirty minutes to suit up and pretend he gave a damn.
And then, finally, he could bury himself in something else.
Something that wasn’t her.
The groundbreaking event was already underway by 7:00 AM. Good PR. Great headlines. Not worth his time.
He stood on the platform in a tailored suit, shovel in hand, camera flashes going off like it was war. All choreographed. All for show. And all bullshit.
He smiled for the photos. Nodded at the mayor. Gave a brief speech someone else wrote.
The usual.
By 8:25, it was over. Damien slipped into the backseat of the car without a word, tugging his tie loose and resting his head against the leather.
“I’ll be heading to the office,” he told James, who climbed in beside him.
James didn’t press. He never did. It was why Damien kept him closer than anyone else.
He needed a distraction. Documents. Numbers. Anything but her.
They were halfway to Blackwood Enterprises when Damien heard James speak.
“Isn’t that Ms. Thompson?” he said, his voice casual, eyes fixed on something outside the window.
Damien didn’t respond. Didn’t flinch. He kept his gaze forward, willing himself to ignore it.
James went on, a shade more deliberate now. “She keeps checking her phone. Looks anxious. I’m guessing they’re headed to the hospital.”
A beat.
“That boy with her… probably her brother.”
Something in that last sentence pulled Damien’s attention. His head turned, almost involuntarily.
There they were – Maya and the kid -standing at a quiet bus stop off the main road. Maya had her hand on the boy’s shoulder, brows drawn, lips pressed thin. Her phone was in her hand, the screen lighting up every few seconds.
Worry. It was written all over her.
The driver, old but sharp, spoke up from the front. “Poor timing to be waiting on this route. Weekend buses here are always late. Damn transit cuts.”
A pulse of irritation slid through Damien’s jaw. He clenched it. Ignored it.
James turned slightly. “Should we offer them a ride? They look like they’re running late.”
Damien glanced again, and saw it. The way Maya’s shoulders were tensed. The way she kept checking the time. The boy looked pale under the morning sun.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.