Damian's POV

I didn't plan to take her out.

At least, that's what I told myself.

It was supposed to be dinner. Work talk. Numbers and contracts and "thank you for your effort" - the kind of polite thing a boss says to his assistant after she pulls three consecutive all-nighters.

But the moment Rachael walked into the restaurant - black dress, loose curls, the kind of perfume that lingered without asking permission - I knew this wasn't going to stay professional.

"Hope I'm not late," she ...