Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him — the confidence in his stance, the slow curve of his smile, the certainty in his voice when he said she would answer him tomorrow
She hated that certainty
By morning, she had made a decision.
She would not be easy.
At work, she focused harder than ever. Head down. Movements precise. Smile professional.
If Damien Moretti expected her to melt the second he appeared, he was about to be disappointed.
And of course, he appeared.
She felt him before she saw him.
"Good evening, Miss Carter."
Her spine straightened, but she did not turn immediately. She finished placing the glasses on the table before calmly facing him.
"Mr. Moretti."
Formal. Controlled.
His eyebrow lifted slightly at the tone. Amused.
"I was hoping for 'Damien.'"
"I prefer professionalism at work," she replied smoothly.
A flicker of approval crossed his face. He stepped closer, but she didn't step back.
"And?" he asked softly. "Have you decided?"
Helen held his gaze. Those brown eyes were intense, steady, far too confident
"Yes."
A pause.
"And?" he repeated
"No."
Silence
Not shocked. Not angry. Just… studying her.
"No?" His voice was calm, almost curious
"I don't go to dinner with men I barely know," she said evenly. "Especially powerful ones who assume I'll say yes."
The faintest smirk touched his lips.
"Ah," he murmured. "So that's what this is."
She crossed her arms lightly. "What is it?"
"You're proving a point."
"I'm setting a boundary."
That made his eyes darken slightly. Not in anger — in interest.
"Good," he said quietly.
She blinked. "Good?"
"I don't like easy things," he replied. "They bore me."
Her heart skipped, but she refused to show it.
For a moment, he actually laughed. Low. Controlled. Genuine.
He stepped toward her
She stepped back.
It was subtle at first a shift in air, a tightening of space. His eyes darkened slightly, watching her reaction carefully
"Helen," he said quietly.
She lifted her chin. "I said no."
Another step.
Her back brushed lightly against the wall behind her before she fully realized there was nowhere left to go.
Her breath caught
Damien stopped just inches away. Not touching. Not yet. Close enough that she could feel the heat of him, the steady rise and fall of his chest.
"You think I'm trying to corner you," he murmured.
"Aren't you?" she whispered.
His hand lifted — not to grab her, but to rest against the wall beside her head. A deliberate move. Containing her without trapping her.
"If I wanted to corner you," he said softly, his voice dropping lower, "you wouldn't be questioning it."
Her pulse thundered.
His gaze fell to her lips for a slow, dangerous second before returning to her eyes. The space between them tightened, charged, electric.
"Relax," he murmured. "If you truly wanted me to step back… you'd tell me."
Her fingers curled slightly at her sides. She could push him away. She should push him away.
But she didn't.
Instead, she whispered, "You're very sure of yourself."
A faint smirk ghosted his lips.
"No," he said quietly. "I'm very sure of you."
The words hit harder than the proximity.
He leaned in just enough that she could feel his breath near her cheek but he didn't kiss her.
Didn't touch her.
Didn't take what wasn't given.
Then slowly… deliberately… he stepped back.
Space returned.
Air rushed into her lungs.
"I don't force things," he said calmly. "When you're ready… you'll close that distance yourself."
And then he walked away.
Leaving her against the wall, flushed, shaken, and very aware that if he had leaned just an inch closer… she might not have resisted at all.