Chapter 46 Magnetic
Damian's POV
I shouldn't be thinking about her like this.
But here I am - staring at the glow of my office window, pretending to read a report I've skimmed three times already, and thinking about the curve of Rachael's smile.
It's ridiculous.
She's my assistant. Smart, focused, and annoyingly good at her job.
But the more time I spend around her, the more I find myself noticing things I shouldn't - the way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she's thinking, the way she smells faintly of citrus and something warm, the way she looks at me when she thinks I'm not looking back.
And I know she feels it too.
But lately, Rachael's been everywhere - in my head, in my space, in the quiet moments between meetings when I should be thinking about work but end up thinking about her instead.
The way she moves. The calm way she speaks. The way her eyes find mine when everyone else is talking. It's subtle, infuriatingly so. She doesn't even try - and maybe that's what makes it worse.
There's a spark between us that neither of us talks about, but it lingers in the space between words, in the way her voice softens when it's just the two of us in the office.
She came in late this evening, right after everyone else left.
"Still here?" she asked, leaning against the doorframe with that easy, quiet confidence of hers.
"Work doesn't do itself," I said, trying to sound indifferent.
She smiled - slow, almost teasing. "That's what you have me for."
There it was again. That tone. Light, playful. But under it, something else. Something I shouldn't want to name.
I gestured toward the chair opposite me. "Sit, then. Let's get this over with."
She crossed the room and sat down, her perfume trailing faintly behind her - not overwhelming, just... there. Present. Like her.
We went over the numbers, the pitch, the new campaign - and yet none of it mattered. Every time she spoke, my mind drifted somewhere else.
The way her lips shaped each word.
The faint crease between her brows when she concentrated.
The quiet steadiness in her eyes that felt like a challenge I was losing.
"You're distracted," she said suddenly, not looking up from her screen.
"I'm tired," I replied too quickly.
"Of work?"
"Yes."
She hummed softly, like she didn't believe me. "You've been tired a lot lately."
"I have a lot to deal with."
"Or maybe you think too much."
I glanced at her then - really looked. "And you don't?"
She finally looked up. "Not about things that don't matter."
Our eyes held, longer than they should have.
Something passed between us - something raw, electric, unspoken.
And for a second, I forgot we were in an office at all.
She broke the moment first, leaning back in her chair. "You know, people think you're impossible to work with."
"People?"
She smirked. "Everyone."
"And you?"
"I think you're just lonely."
The words hit harder than they should have. Too direct. Too honest.
"Careful," I said quietly. "You're starting to sound like you know me."
"I don't need to," she said, eyes softening. "You tell on yourself."
The corner of my mouth twitched before I could stop it. "Do I?"
"Every time you look at me like that," she murmured.
The air thinned between us. For a heartbeat, the world went still.
Then she stood up, gathering her files like nothing had happened. "You should get some rest, Mr. Cross."
"Damian," I corrected. I don't even know why.
She paused - just slightly - then said my name like a secret she wasn't supposed to say.
"Goodnight, Damian."
And then she left.
____
Rachael didn't stop walking until she reached the elevator. Her heart was pounding, but her face was calm - it always was.
What was she thinking, saying that?
Every rule she'd set for herself, every line she promised not to cross - all of it cracked the second he looked at her like that.
He had this way of watching her that undid her - quiet, unreadable, like he saw too much but said too little.
And the worst part? She liked it.
She liked the weight of his gaze.
She liked the way his voice dropped when he said her name.
She liked the way he pretended not to care when she knew he did.
Rachael wasn't naïve - she knew what kind of man Damian Cross was. Controlled. Guarded. The kind who built walls so high he forgot how to climb down from them.
But tonight, she'd seen something shift behind his eyes - something that almost looked like want.
And it terrified her how much she wanted it too.
Back upstairs, Damian sat alone in his office, staring at the door she'd just walked through.
Her voice still lingered.
Her scent. Her presence. Everything.
He'd sworn never to fall again - not after the wreckage Elena left behind. But the heart doesn't ask for permission before it starts beating differently.
And as the silence filled the room, Damian finally admitted to himself what he'd been denying for weeks -
He wanted her.
Completely.
Dangerously.
And there was no turning back now.