Damian’s POV

I should’ve left hours ago.

On nights like this, most executives had long since fled to their penthouses or weekend estates, letting the city swallow them whole until early Monday morning. But I never liked the abruptness of leaving this building behind. My office was high above Manhattan’s endless sprawl and it had become both a fortress and vantage point.

The city pulsed beneath my windows, each street a ribbon of light stretching into the distance. It usually calmed me. Tonight, though, it only seemed to hum with a restlessness I couldn’t shake.

If I were being honest with myself, I knew exactly why.

Kayna Scott.

Efficient. Composed. And yet, there was a spark—an unpolished sharpness—that I’d caught more than once in her eyes today. She wasn’t just here to collect a paycheck. She was observing. Thinking.

Learning.

She’d been here only two days, and already she had altered the cadence of the place. Not loud or obvious. I think that was the problem. She wasn’t the type to demand attention but in subtler ways her presence was always felt. The way she moved through the office, deliberately but with quiet confidence. The way she didn’t shrink under pressure.

That Cosmo meeting earlier… most new assistants would’ve been swallowed whole. I’d seen people twice her age lose composure when three executives start firing questions like bullets talk more of twelve board members. She hadn’t flinched.

Not once.

And there’d been this look in her eyes, not arrogance, not fear, something between measured defiance and pure curiosity. Like she was testing me to prove me wrong as much as I was testing her.

Trying to steady my thoughts, I closed the Dubai contract on my desk and leaned back, running a hand slowly across the edge of the mahogany desk. My office was dim except for the desk lamp, casting amber shadows along the shelves.

Somewhere in the corner of my mind, an uninvited question lingered.

Where had she learned to move like that? To adapt so quickly?

Her résumé had been solid, if a little… plain. Almost too plain. As though someone had intentionally smoothed out any trace of sharp edges before sending it my way. No glaring red flags, but there were gaps.

And I didn’t like gaps.

In people, in numbers—anywhere.

They were where mistakes lived. Where threats grew.

I stood, crossing to the floor-to-ceiling windows. My reflection stared back at me in the glass—black suit jacket still crisp despite the long day, tie loosened just enough to betray the late hour.

The city looked infinite from up here. Most nights, it reminded me that everything could be owned, acquired, or outmaneuvered if you understood the rules well enough. But tonight… it just reminded me how many corners the light didn’t reach.

The floor was almost silent now. A janitor’s cart squeaked faintly down the hall.

As the skyline stretched before me, sharp and endless, most nights it grounded me. Tonight, it didn’t. Something restless was under my skin, something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

It was the pull.

The same pull that had me noticing the way her hair caught the light when she bent over her notes. The way her voice stayed steady even when she was cornered by rapid-fire questions in that meeting.

The way she’d looked at me once—just once—like she wasn’t sure whether to trust me… but wanted to.

⸻

A knock interrupted my thoughts—soft but deliberate.

“Come in,” I called.

The door opened, and Julian stepped in. Always without hesitation, as if the rules didn’t apply to him. Which, in most cases, they didn’t.

“You’re still here,” he said, raising an eyebrow as he closed the door behind him.

I glanced over my shoulder. “So are you.”

“Touché.” He carried a folder to my desk and placed it down. “The background checks on the Cosmo accounts. Clean. No unusual transfers. No shell companies we don’t already know about. Nothing unusual from reports on your new interest Kayna. She hasn’t shown anything interesting.”

I gave a short nod. “Good. One less variable.”

Julian lingered. “And the new assistant?”

My expression didn’t change. “What about her?”

“She’s… different,” he said slowly, as if weighing each word. “Not like the others.”

“She’s competent.”

His lips twitched—half amusement, half warning. “That’s one way of putting it. Another way is that she caught your attention.”

I didn’t answer, which was an answer in itself. He knew me well enough to read silence.

“Most new hires,” he continued, “you barely remember their names until month two. You remembered hers before day one was over.”

I leaned a shoulder against the window frame. “If I hire someone to work at my side, I remember their name. That’s hardly cause for suspicion.”

He gave me a look that said he wasn’t convinced. “Be careful, Damian. Don’t get distracted.”

The words hung there, heavier than they should’ve been.

I didn’t ask what he meant. I didn’t need to. It was the same warning I’d heard before—different voices, same undertone. Sometimes about a deal. Sometimes about a rival. Sometimes about something else entirely.

⸻

After he left, the office felt larger. Too large. I moved back to my desk, intending to shut down the computer and call it a night.

That’s when my phone buzzed.

Not the office line. Not even my personal contacts. Just a single message from a number I didn’t recognize.

You can’t keep the past buried forever.

No greeting. No name. No context.

I stared at it for a moment, the glow of the screen bright against the dim office light.

Past.

That was a loaded word.

My first instinct was to delete it. My second was to trace it. My third… was to ignore both and act as though it had never arrived.

People who sent messages like that fed on reaction. They wanted you unsettled, to know they’d planted something in your head. The only way to win was to starve them of satisfaction.

Still, I read it again before locking the phone.

My mind should’ve gone back to the contracts, the meetings, the plans for tomorrow. Instead, it went—against all logic—back to Kayna.

I didn’t know yet if she was going to be an asset or a liability.

But I knew one thing:

She had no idea what she’d walked into but she’d stepped into a world where shadows had long memories.

And if the past really didn’t stay buried… she’d find out sooner than either of us were ready for.

And I wasn’t sure yet if I’d protect her from it… or if I’d end up dragging her into it.