The announcement came mid-morning, during the weekly department briefing. Damian didn't deliver it himself—he let HR handle the formalities. Layla suspected that was deliberate, a way to keep the spotlight off them.
"Effective immediately, Layla Hart is promoted to Executive Operations Coordinator," the HR director read. "Her leadership over the Geneva project exceeded expectations, and her organizational foresight has set a new internal benchmark."
The room broke into polite applause. Layla smiled, thanked the director, and sat down without glancing at Damian. She could feel him though—his gaze steady, unblinking.
For the rest of the meeting, he was all business. No softening at the edges, no tell in his voice. But when she passed him a report later, her fingers brushed his for half a second longer than necessary. He didn't move away.
By lunchtime, congratulations had filled her inbox. Damian hadn't said a word. She almost let herself be annoyed until, at the end of the day, she found a small envelope on her desk. Inside was a handwritten note.
Proud of you. — D
No flourish, no more than five words. But the pen stroke was deliberate, the paper thick enough to mean he'd thought about it.
That night, she caught herself replaying the way his eyes had flickered during the briefing—just once—like he'd wanted to smile but refused to.
If professionalism was his armour, admiration was the crack she could see now.
It was supposed to be a quick exchange—a project update Layla needed Damian to approve before she left for the evening.
She stepped into his office, the air warmer than usual. Damian leaned back in his chair, reading her report, his tie slightly loosened.
"You always find a way to make my job harder," he murmured, not looking up.
Layla smirked. "You mean better."
Their eyes met, a beat too long. He handed the file back and held her hand.Just feeling
She didn't realise she'd taken a step closer until she was standing at the edge of his desk. Damian's gaze lingered on her mouth before lifting back to her eyes—slow, deliberate.
"Layla…" His voice was low enough to feel.
The door opened.
Maya stood there, holding a folder she clearly didn't need. Her perfect brows lifted in mock innocence. "Oh. Am I… interrupting?"
Layla straightened instantly, taking a step back. "We were just—"
"Working?" Maya finished, the word drenched in sarcasm. "Right. I can see how… intense the work was." Her eyes swept over Layla with a slow, assessing look.
Damian's expression shuttered. "Did you need something, Maya?"
She smiled sweetly at him, ignoring the sharpness in his tone. "Just wanted to drop off the updated investor brief. My dad has decided to add an investment. But… I'll let you get back to your meeting."
As she left, she brushed past Layla, her perfume cloying and deliberate. "Careful," she whispered just loud enough for Layla to hear, "Some people don't like sharing."
The door clicked shut behind her.
Outside, Maya's smile vanished. She had seen the look in Damian's eyes—and she didn't like it. Not one bit.
If Layla thought she could quietly slip into his orbit, she was wrong.
Maya would make sure of it.