Chapter 7

Damian’s POV

The day started wrong.

Not because of the weather—Manhattan was in one of those rare moods where the sky was a perfect blue and the air was just cool enough to make walking pleasant. No, it started wrong because Julian had stepped into my office with a grim look before I’d even finished my first coffee.

I knew that look. It was the same one he wore when he had to deliver bad news he’d rather sugarcoat but knew I’d tear through regardless.

“Tell me,” I said, not looking up from the email I was skimming.

He hesitated for a second too long. “It’s Cosmo.”

My head snapped up. “What about Cosmo?”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“Julian—” I said as the suspense was getting quite upsetting.

“They’ve been in talks with Brighton Holdings.”

The name hit like a bucket of cold water. Brighton Holdings. My least favorite kind of rival—the sort with too much money, too little ethics, and a CEO who thrived on the idea of taking something just because it belonged to someone else.

“How far along?” I asked.

Julian shifted his weight. “Rumor is, Brighton’s already made an offer.”

A muscle ticked in my jaw. “We’ve been building that deal for six months.”

“I know.”

“And we’re the only firm with the infrastructure they need. Brighton doesn’t have—”

“They don’t have the infrastructure,” Julian cut in, “but they have something else. They’re promising Cosmo a bigger cut and a faster timeline. It’s risky, but…”

“But Cosmo’s CEO likes risky,” I finished for him.

Julian nodded.

I leaned back in my chair, staring past him at the skyline through the glass wall. The Cosmo project wasn’t just a deal—it was the deal. The one that would anchor our next five years of growth. Losing it wasn’t an option.

“How reliable is your source?” I asked.

“Reliable enough that I’m telling you now instead of later.”

I drummed my fingers on the desk. “Set up a call with Cosmo. I don’t care if I have to fly out to Los Angeles tonight. We’re not letting Brighton take this.”

Julian didn’t argue. He never did when my tone went flat like that.

The rest of the morning was spent in a haze of back-to-back calls, all while my mind kept circling back to Brighton’s CEO, Carter Vale. I’d beaten him before—more than once—but this time felt different. Brighton’s move was aggressive, almost desperate, and desperate men were dangerous.

Somewhere in the middle of the chaos, I noticed Kayna at her desk through the glass wall. She was focused, her hair falling forward as she typed.

For a moment, the sight grounded me.

I told myself I wasn’t watching her. That I wasn’t letting my eyes linger too long on the curve of her profile or the way she chewed lightly on her pen cap when she was concentrating. But I was lying to myself, and I knew it.

She caught me looking once. Just once. Her gaze flicked up, met mine through the glass, and for a second the tension in my shoulders loosened. But then a call came through from my legal team and reality came crashing back.

By noon, my mood had soured enough that even I could feel the edge in my voice. Every minor mistake from staff felt like a personal attack.

Julian stuck his head in my office just after lunch. “You might want to dial it back. The interns look like they’re planning a group escape.”

“I’m not here to make interns comfortable,” I said.

“No, but you are here to keep your assistant from thinking you hate her.”

I frowned. “What?”

Julian tilted his head toward the glass wall. “She’s been walking on eggshells all morning.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t have the bandwidth to explain that it wasn’t her. That it was everything else. The deal. The rivals. The gnawing certainty that something about Brighton’s timing wasn’t coincidence.

Still, his words stayed with me.

Around three, Kayna knocked softly on my door.

“Mr. Marshall?” Her voice was tentative.

“Yes?”

She stepped in, holding a neatly organized folder. “The updated itinerary for your next trip. I’ve confirmed all the appointments, and the travel team has arranged your flight to L.A. in case you decide to go.”

Efficient. Professional. But her eyes didn’t quite meet mine.

I took the folder. “Thank you.”

She nodded, then turned to leave.

Something made me stop her. “Ms. Scott.”

She paused.

“You’re doing good so far. Keep up the good work.”

That earned me the faintest flicker of a smile before she slipped out of the room.

By the time the sun began to set over Manhattan, my head was pounding from hours of strategizing. We’d managed to get a call with Cosmo’s CFO for the next morning—one chance to keep this deal alive.

I stayed in the office after most of the staff had left, going over every point of leverage we still had. At some point, I realized Kayna was still at her desk, finishing something on her computer.

“You can go home,” I called through the open door.

“I’m just wrapping up,” she replied without looking up.

There was something in her tone—soft, but steady—that made me glance at her longer than I should have.

It was almost eight when I finally shut my laptop. I was locking my office when Julian’s voice came from behind me.

“You’re going to want to hear this.”

I turned to see him holding his phone, his expression tight. “What now?”

“Brighton just sent an updated proposal to Cosmo.”

I felt my stomach sink. “And?”

“And they copied someone in your company on the email.”

My brows knit. “Who?”

Julian’s eyes were steady. “We don’t know yet. But the email wasn’t blind-copied—it was deliberate. Almost like they wanted us to see it.”

The hum of the nearly empty office seemed to fade.

Someone inside was feeding Brighton information.

And the worst part?

If they knew about Cosmo… they might know about Operation sweep too.