Chapter 9

Kayna’s POV

The office door shut behind me with a quiet click, but it may as well have been a slam.

I stood frozen in the hallway, my suitcase beside me, the weight of Damian’s sharp dismissal pressing down on my chest.

“Out.” One word, clipped and cold.

I should have been used to his moods by now, Damian Marshall was not a man who softened his commands but this felt different. This wasn’t just business. Not with the way the woman in his office had smirked at me like she had something I didn’t.

I drew in a breath and forced myself to move, dragging my suitcase toward the small waiting lounge down the hall. My hands trembled as I dug through my folder, pretending to review my notes. Anything to keep from replaying the sound of his voice dismissing me.

But it didn’t work.

The image of the woman lounging in his chair like she owned it kept flashing in my mind. The kind of confidence she radiated didn’t come overnight. It was the confidence of someone who belonged in Damian’s world.

And me? I was just… passing through. I didn’t have what it took to be in their midst.

It felt like forever before the office door opened again. Damian stepped out, his expression unreadable, jaw tight, phone in one hand.

“Let’s go,” he said curtly.

No explanation. No acknowledgment of what just happened. He didn’t even look at me as he strode down the hall toward the elevator.

I scrambled to grab my suitcase and followed him, my heels clicking too loudly against the marble.

The ride to the airport was silent. Damian worked on his phone, his brow furrowed in concentration. The tinted windows cast shadows across his face, emphasizing the sharp line of his cheekbones.

I sat across from him in the black town car, hands clasped tightly in my lap, trying not to stare.

Every so often, he’d glance up, his eyes flicking to me like he wanted to say something but each time, he went back to typing on his MacBook.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. The silence was deafening.

“Do you…do you want me to review the presentation again before we land?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze lifted, steady and piercing. For a second, I thought he might soften.

Instead, he said, “We’ll review it on the jet.”

And that was it.

…….

At the airport, a sleek private jet waited on the tarmac, its silver body shining in the morning sun. I had seen private jets in magazines, on TV but standing here, suitcase in hand, I felt like I had stepped onto another planet.

Damian barely paused. He strode up the stairs with the ease of a man who had done this a thousand times, his coat shifting with the wind.

I followed more hesitantly, my heart hammering. The interior of the jet was even more surreal; cream leather seats, polished wood, a bar stocked with bottles I couldn’t even pronounce.

A flight attendant greeted us warmly, taking my coat and offering coffee.

Damian declined, already sliding into his seat at the head of the cabin table. He gestured for me to sit opposite him.

“Let’s start. Ava told me you reviewed it last night so let’s see what you came up with.”

Just like that.

I opened my laptop, pulling up the files I had spent all night perfecting. My fingers trembled as I scrolled through the slides, but I forced my voice steady as I explained each section. Market analysis. Competitive projections. Cosmo’s board preferences.

Damian listened, eyes sharp, occasionally interrupting with a pointed question that made me scramble to adjust a number or rephrase a pitch.

By the time we finished, sweat had gathered at the back of my neck. The kind of sweat from being way too nervous.

“You did well.” he said finally.

The words hit me like sunlight breaking through clouds.

But before I could breathe in that small relief, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, then answered with a clipped, “Yes?”

I tried not to listen, but his tone sharpened, low, edged with impatience. Whoever was on the other end wasn’t just business. I caught fragments“…not now… no, I said I’ll handle it…”—before he stood abruptly and moved to the back of the jet, leaving me at the table with my racing thoughts.

I closed my laptop slowly, staring at the reflection of my tired face in the glossy wood.

Who had called him? Was it about the Cosmo project? Or was it… her?

The woman from his office. The one who looked at me like I was a child playing dress-up.

A shiver ran through me, though the cabin was warm.

I shouldn’t care. Damian Marshall was my boss, not my… not anything else. His life, his world was none of my business.

But the hollow ache in my chest said otherwise.

…..

The door to the rear cabin slid open, and Damian returned, his expression carefully blank. He sat back down across from me, but his eyes flicked briefly toward my suitcase at my side as if to remind me that I didn’t belong here any more than my second-hand luggage did in his polished jet.

“Kayna” he said, his tone clipped. “There are things about this deal you don’t need to know. Stay focused on the logistics. Leave the rest to me.”

Something about the way he said it…firm, final made my throat tighten.

“I understand” I murmured.

But I didn’t.

Not at all.

The flight attendant appeared then, asking if we’d like breakfast. Damian waved her off. I declined too, though my stomach growled in protest. The thought of food made my exhaustion worse.

Silence fell again, heavier this time. I wanted to ask him about the woman. I wanted to ask who she was, why she was in his office, why she looked at me like I was… temporary.

But I didn’t.

Because some part of me already knew I wouldn’t like the answer.

……

Few Hours later, as the jet hummed steadily over the clouds, I found myself staring out the window, the endless blue sky stretching forever.

And for the first time since I started this job, a sharp, unshakable thought pierced through my mind.

What if I’m not just his assistant in this? What if I’m the distraction he never wanted?

The thought made my pulse quicken, a knot forming in my stomach.

Damian shifted in his seat across from me, his gaze flicking up from his tablet. His eyes locked with mine, holding for a long, unreadable beat.

And just when I thought he might finally say something,anything, the jet hit a sudden, sharp pocket of turbulence. My laptop slid forward, coffee splashed across the table, and I gasped, holding the edge of my seat.

The flight attendant rushed forward, but Damian was already there, steadying the table with one hand, his other braced against my arm. His grip was firm, grounding.

Our eyes met again…closer now, more intense, almost… too much.

The plane steadied. The moment stretched.

And in his gaze, I saw something I wasn’t supposed to. Something that scared me almost as much as it thrilled me.

Because whatever it was…it wasn’t professional.

And it wasn’t safe.