She tucked her hands between her knees, willing herself to stay calm. “Can we just go now?” she asked softly.
James looked at Damien through the mirror, waiting for a signal. He got it with the subtlest nod.
The door locks clicked. James stepped out first and opened the door for them.
Jamie, clearly unhappy, finally stepped out, still glaring across the lot at the doctor like he was the enemy. Maya followed right behind him.
“Thank you again,” she said softly, offering James a polite nod. Then her gaze shifted to Damien.”
Mr. Blackwood.”
Their eyes locked for half a second too long.
She started to turn, but Damien spoke again.
“Ms. Thompson…” he paused, eyes never leaving hers, “Don’t be late on Monday.”
Maya swallowed. Her voice came out softer than she meant. “I won’t,” she said, voice soft, eyes flicking up to meet his one last time.
She gave a small nod, then reached for Jamie’s hand and walked toward the hospital.
James didn’t speak until the doors shut and Damien leaned back in his seat, jaw tight.
“To the company?” he asked lightly.
Damien’s eyes were locked on the hospital doors. “I want everything on that doctor – name, background, affiliations – on my desk before the day ends.”
A beat. Then, coldly: “And I want him out of this city before the sun rises tomorrow.”
James gave a slow nod, lips twitching at the edge. “Understood.”
The rest of the drive was quiet, save for the low hum of the engine and the occasional tap of James’s stylus against his tablet.
By the time they pulled into the private underground entrance of Blackwood Enterprises, the building was noticeably quieter, weekend-silent, save for a few essential staff and skeleton
Inside the lift, Damien’s jaw was tight, his thoughts far too loud.
“By the way, boss,” James said casually, as the elevator climbed. “About the mentorship you told the kid…”
Damien didn’t look up. “What about it?”
James raised a brow. “We don’t have that program.”
Damien didn’t miss a beat. “Then make it happen.”
James smirked and tapped a note into his tablet. “Thought you’d say that.”
The elevator opened on the top floor with a soft chime. The hallway was dim, most of the lights in energy-saving mode. A few weekend staff worked quietly in the far corners, too focused – or too scared to acknowledge Damien’s presence.
He entered his office without slowing down. The door closed behind him with a soft thud.
Silence.
He pulled off his blazer, tossed it over the back of a chair, and moved to his desk, the floor-to-ceiling windows casting pale light across the space. His city stretched beyond the glass- clean, controlled, clinical.
But inside him?
A storm.
He sat heavily in the chair and stared out for a long moment.
He should be thinking about Al models. About board strategies. About the damn expansion launch.
Instead, all he could think about was the sound of her voice. The way she looked at her brother. The way her knee had brushed his.
And the man outside that hospital.
That part still simmered in his blood.
Before 5:00 PM, James knocked once before stepping inside. He carried himself with his usual calm, but there was a flicker of something else behind his eyes.
“The files you requested are at the top of your inbox,” he said.
Damien didn’t respond right away. He simply leaned forward, opened his laptop, and clicked into the documents.
“Let’s see who the fuck you are,” he muttered under his breath, eyes scanning through the hospital staff records.
James didn’t move.
Damien noticed.
His jaw tensed. “Something else?”
James hesitated. Then: “If I may, sir…”
Damien looked up slowly. “Speak.”
James cleared his throat, careful but firm. “Please don’t take this the wrong way. And forgive me if I’m overstepping, but…” He paused. “Ms. Thompson. Do you… like her?”
Damien’s eyes narrowed, voice low and clipped. “What exactly do you mean?”
“I mean,” James said quietly, “I know how you are. You don’t do romance. Or relationships. Commitment’s never been your thing.”
He paused, then added – gently, deliberately – “But Ms. Thompson… she’s not like the others. She’s not built for something casual. She’s innocent. Fragile. The kind of woman who won’t come out of it untouched, if you go there.”
The silence that followed was thick. Damien’s knuckles tightened on the edge of the desk.
When he finally spoke, his voice was even. Controlled. Cold.
“I have no intention of ‘going there, James.”
But James didn’t look convinced. And Damien knew why.
His voice may have sounded firm. But it lacked weight – conviction. Even to himself.
James shifted, then said carefully, “Then I hope you don’t mind me saying this…” Damien didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
So James continued, quietly but earnestly. “But if she’s the one.. the woman who’s slowly breaking through whatever wall you’ve built… and if she’s the one making you feel something again, something real – then I think she’s perfect for you.”
Damien’s gaze lifted, sharp and unreadable.
James held it. “She’s not hard to read, sir. She’s been through hell. She’s broken, but not in a way that makes her weak. In a way that makes her feel everything deeply. She gives love fully… holds.
onto it with both hands. That’s rare.”
“She’s naive. And you…” he hesitated, but pushed on, “… you’ve seen the world. You’re strong. She softens things. You ground them. It balances out.”
Another pause. A quieter one.
“You’ve forgotten what love looks like. She hasn’t. Maybe she could remind you.”
Damien stared at him for a long moment.
Then, finally, voice low and cool – he said, “You’re walking a fine line, James.”
“I know.” James gave the smallest smile. “But someone had to say it.”
Damien didn’t respond. He only turned back to the screen, eyes fixed on the man in the hospital records.
But the words lingered.
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.