Chapter 23

Damian’s POV

Manhattan skyline looked so cold that morning, a wash of steel and glass glittering against the pale sky as I leaned against the wall of my office, coffee growing cold in my hand.

I hadn’t slept well. Couldn’t, really. For the past two weeks, sleep had become a luxury I didn’t have time for not with the Cosmo contract finally secured, not with whispers of rival firms circling like sharks.

But it wasn’t just the business.

It was her.

Kayna Scott.

She’d been in Boston for a week now, tending to her sick mother. I told myself I was glad she had gone—that I could think more clearly without her quiet presence stealing pieces of my concentration. But the lie didn’t hold. The office felt emptier, and every time I passed her desk, an unwanted ache spread across my chest.

Julian stepped in without knocking, as always. His suit was sharp, his expression sharper. “Morning. You look like hell.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, setting down the coffee. “Any word on the Harrington Group’s bid?”

Julian shook his head. “Not good. They’ve doubled their pitch team and pulled two former Cosmo board consultants onto their side. It’s aggressive.”

I cursed under my breath, pacing toward the window. Harrington had been circling me for years, desperate to carve a piece out of Marshall & Co. And now—with Cosmo—we’d finally beaten them. But if Julian was right, the win wasn’t as solid as it looked.

“They’re desperate,” I said finally. “They’ll overplay their hand.”

Julian’s mouth twitched. “Let’s hope. Because if they don’t, they’ll come for us another way. Harrington doesn’t like losing.”

The words were meant for business, but they dug deeper than that.

Because the truth was, I knew how it felt not to like losing. I hadn’t liked it when Ixora reappeared. I hadn’t liked it when Kayna had set boundaries in that hotel room.

And I especially didn’t like the silence that had stretched between us since she left for Boston.

By mid-morning, I couldn’t concentrate. Contracts blurred. Numbers twisted. Every email read like static.

I found myself staring at the framed picture on my shelf—my father’s handshake with a foreign minister back in the day, both men in pressed suits, looking like they owned the world.

That was the legacy I’d inherited. A legacy that expected strength. Ruthlessness. Success at all costs.

And yet all I could think about was Kayna’s expression the last time I saw her—eyes wide when I handed her the tickets to Boston, her lips parting in surprise, the brush of her body against mine when she hugged me.

We’d been one breath away from something we couldn’t take back.

And she’d pulled away.

“Dammit,” I muttered, shoving the memory down.

…..

That afternoon, Ixora called.

I almost didn’t answer, but avoiding her would only make her chase harder.

“Damian,” she purred through the line, her voice like silk woven with barbed wire. “I hear congratulations are in order. Cosmo. You’ve always known how to win big.”

I gritted my teeth. “What do you want, Xora?”

“Want?” Her laugh was low. “Nothing, darling. Just thought you’d like to know that Harrington isn’t your only problem. People are talking. About who you’re hiring. About who you’re spending your time with.”

The air thinned around me. “Stay out of my business.”

“Your business was my business, once,” she reminded me sweetly. “And if I recall correctly, I know things about your empire that people couldn’t begin to imagine.”

“Oh, Damian,” Ixora whispered. “You think you can keep your worlds separate. But sooner or later, the past always catches up.”

I hung up before she could say more, jaw tight, fingers aching from the grip on my phone.

Ixora knew too much. Too much about me, about the way I operated, about the foundations of Marshall & Co. She was a storm circling closer every day.

That evening, Julian and I sat in the study of my penthouse, whiskey in our glasses, the city sprawling endlessly outside the window.

“You’re distracted,” Julian said bluntly.

I leaned back, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. “Ixora called.”

His brow arched. “And?”

“She knows too much. And she’s circling.”

Julian sighed. “Then you know what that means. Cut ties. For good this time.”

I didn’t answer. My mind was already in two places at once—on Ixora’s warning, and on Kayna, alone in Boston, dealing with her mother, her brother, her past.

If Ixora knew about her…

The thought made my stomach knot.

Julian’s voice cut in. “Damian. If you’re going to protect the empire, you can’t afford distractions.”

But what if the distraction was the only thing tethering me to something real?

Later that night, I stood alone on the balcony, the city humming below me. The air was crisp, heavy with winter’s edge.

I pulled my phone from my pocket, thumb hovering over Kayna’s number. For once, I wanted to hear her voice—not as her boss, not as her protector, but as something else.

Before I could press call, my screen lit up.

A text.

From an unknown number.

“Control it before it controls you. Secrets will soon start leaking and Kayna soon start looking for answers.”

My chest went cold.

The phone buzzed again before I could respond.

The glass nearly slipped from my hand. My pulse thundered as I stared at the glowing words.

What the hell did Kayna’s family—and my past—have in common?

And who was close enough to know both?