Clara’s POV – The Next Morning

The shrill buzz of my alarm broke the early silence of the room.

6:45 AM.

I groaned and rolled over, dragging the sheets with me, then groaned again when I saw the time. No time for second thoughts, no time for regrets about staying up too late, and certainly no time for snoozing. I bolted upright and mentally cursed my own body for betraying me with exhaustion.

Yesterday had drained me. Completely. Emotionally. Mentally. Even physically.

And still… Damien Holt’s message was the only thing on my mind.

I hadn’t checked my phone last night. Didn’t even open my laptop. I’d knocked out like a stone the second my head hit the pillow.

Now, racing against time, I darted into the bathroom with a toothbrush hanging from my mouth and the shower running behind me. My hair was a mess. My shirt had a crease I didn’t remember leaving. And I was fairly certain I’d just thrown together the fastest corporate outfit of my life.

Navy blue pencil skirt. Ivory blouse. Nude pumps. The outfit was clean and pressed enough for the office. Maybe not my best. But it would have to do.

I swiped on a bit of foundation, mascara, and a nude lip. Basic. Efficient. Professional. The reflection staring back at me looked presentable—but exhausted.

I inhaled sharply and forced myself to believe I could do this. I was fine. I would handle the day like I always did.

Grabbing my bag, I locked the door and practically jogged to the parking lot. Just before unlocking my car, I remembered—my phone. I hadn’t checked my notifications.

I opened it and—

My breath caught.

Two unread messages.

From Damien Holt.

My boss.

My complicated, sharp-jawed, ice-eyed, maddening boss.

Sent at 9:42 PM last night.

Damien: Goodnight, Clara.

Then—

You did well today. Sleep well.

I froze in place, right by the driver’s side.

He’d texted me. Not about work. Not about a client. Just that.

My chest tightened—not in panic, but something warmer. Stranger. More dangerous.

I stared at the messages again. Simple. Unemotional. But for Damien Holt, this was monumental. The man rarely spoke more than necessary. And he certainly didn’t send messages outside business hours—unless the world was on fire.

Yet here he was… telling me I did well. Telling me goodnight.

I opened the reply box before I lost my nerve.

Me: Good morning, sir. I just saw this now. Thank you… and you too. Sleep well, I mean.

I cringed. That sounded awkward. Too personal? Too casual?

Whatever. I hit send before I could rethink it.

Sliding into the car, I pulled out of the driveway, trying to suppress the flutter in my stomach. I shouldn’t have felt that way. Not about him. Not about a man like Damien Holt—CEO, emotionally unavailable, coldly magnetic, and my boss.

Yet… here we were.

Then came the ping.

I glanced at my phone at the next red light.

Thumbs-up emoji.

That’s it.

I exhaled a quiet laugh. Typical Damien. Brief, unreadable, but somehow… intimate in its own way.

I smiled, staring just a second longer than necessary at his contact photo.

Even in grayscale, he looked unfairly good. Like someone born to conquer boardrooms—and hearts. His expression was stern, lips unsmiling, eyes unreadable. But sharp. Confident.

Deadly.

What are you doing to me, Damien Holt?

I shook the thought away and drove.

(Midday – Office Grounds)

The morning hours passed in a blur of meetings, emails, and a disappointing cup of coffee. By the time the clock struck noon, I had forgotten what hunger felt like.

I met up with Laila in the break lounge.

She slid into the seat next to mine, sipping from her green smoothie. “Hey,” she said, glancing at her phone. “Big week ahead.”

I blinked. “What now?”

She gave me a look. “Don’t tell me you haven’t seen your name on the project tracker.”

I sat up straighter. “Laila…”

She raised her brows. “You’re leading the Meeting next week.”

My blood ran cold.

“Wait. Next week?”

“Next Wednesday” she confirmed, pulling out her phone to show me the updated meeting calendar. “Assigned by HR. Approved by Damien. All eyes on you.”

I stared at it.

MajorsTech was one of our highest-value clients. They’d been a delicate account from the start, and landing the long-term partnership would be game-changing.

“But… why me?” I asked softly.

She shrugged. “That’s what I said. Damien usually handles this kind of thing himself or assigns it to a senior exec. He picked you. That’s a statement.”

“Or a trap,” I muttered.

Laila laughed. “Look, no offense, Clara… you’ve been kinda off lately.”

My cheeks burned.

“I’m not saying you can’t do it,” she added quickly. “Just… stay focused. This meeting? It’s a game-changer. You pull this off, and people will start saying your name differently around here.”

My stomach twisted with pressure and confusion.

Damien picked me.

Why?

After the lunch we both start heading towards our offices.

As if summoned by my thoughts, Damien walked past us just as we exited the break room.

Flanked by HR, discussing something in low tones.

He looked pristine, as always—dark suit, silk tie, and that watch he always adjusted with the precision of a man who needed the world to be on his schedule.

He didn’t even glance at me.

Just walked by like I was invisible.

Still, the air around him shifted everything. Just watching him made heat curl low in my belly.

I exhaled sharply, trying to steady myself.

Back at My Desk

I barely had time to open the MajorsTech file before a knock landed at my office door.

It was HR.

“Clara? Got a minute?”

Of course. I stood and followed her without question.

(HR’s Office)

The room was pristine, glass walls and calm lighting. The HR manager gestured for me to sit.

She wasted no time.

“You’re leading the MajorsTech meeting next week. Mr. Holt personally assigned it to you.”

I nodded slowly, nerves prickling down my spine.

She continued, “It will be recorded. Internal performance assessment. You’re being considered for advancement.”

My mouth went dry.

“This isn’t a test. It’s a chance,” she said, softer now. “But be clear we’ve had feedback. You’ve seemed a little… distracted lately.”

My chest tightened.

“But we believe in your skillset,” she added quickly. “And so does Damien, clearly. You wouldn’t be on this unless he trusted you.”

I nodded, voice barely steady. “I understand.”

I simply said and left when she signal me. to leave.

Back to my office.

I closed the door and leaned against it, heart still racing.

My name. My presentation. My performance being watched. Judged. Measured.

All while Damien wouldn't be there. Watching. Listening. Undoubtedly dissecting every word I said,is sighed.

I sat heavily at my desk, reopening the MajorsTech file and staring at the spreadsheet like it could calm the storm inside me.

But my eyes drifted back to my phone.

To his message.

You did well today. Sleep well.

It wasn’t just praise.

It was a signal. A spark.

Something was changing between us.

And whether I was ready or not… I knew it was already too late to turn back.