Layla barely slept.
She kept thinking about Damian. The kitchen. His voice. His closeness.
What did he mean? Why now? Why say all that and walk away?
By morning, she was a mess.
She got to the office early. Eyes on her screen, heart still in last night's silence.
Damian hadn't sent any messages. Not a word. Like it didn't happen.
That pissed her off. Confused her even more.
She was about to go ask if he needed anything when Maya walked in.
Tight dress. Loud perfume. Bold smile.
"Morning, sweetheart," Maya said, brushing past.
Layla didn't respond.
Minutes later, her desk phone rang.
"Come in," Damian's voice said. Cold. Like usual.
She straightened her skirt and walked into his office.
Maya was already there — sitting way too close, sipping coffee like she lived there.
"Layla," Damian said without looking up, "prepare travel documents. You're leaving for the Singapore project. Alone."
Layla blinked. "Wait… I thought you were handling—"
"Plans changed."
Cold. Sharp. Deliberate.
Maya smirked into her coffee.
"And take the marketing reports with you," he added. "I want them done before you return."
Layla stood frozen for a second.
Then nodded.
"Understood."
She turned to leave.
But Damian stopped her.
"And Layla…"
She paused at the door.
"You'll be gone for a while. Make sure your desk is clean before you leave."
Maya's smirk widened.
Layla didn't respond.
She stepped out, shut the door quietly, then stood outside for a second — trying to breathe.
What the hell just happened?
Why was he punishing her?
And why… did it hurt so much?
Layla landed in Singapore tired, irritated, and still confused.
Damian didn't say goodbye. Just handed her a folder and walked off. Cold as ever.
This wasn't just work. It felt like punishment.
Three days in. Meetings, presentations, fixing issues no one else would touch. She barely slept.
By the fourth day, she walked into the hotel lobby after another exhausting session… and stopped.
Luke Rashford was sitting there.
Relaxed. Comfortable. A glass of whiskey in one hand.
He looked up and smiled like he'd been expecting her.
"I heard headquarters sent a fixer. Figured it had to be you."
Layla froze. "What are you doing here?"
"Business. Expansion talk," he said, standing. "But let's not pretend I didn't hope I'd see you."
She blinked, surprised.
He stepped closer, still calm. Still himself.
"I like you, Layla. I don't care if it's messy or complicated. I just do."
Layla stared at him. Heart racing. Mind spinning.
He chuckled softly.
"I'm not asking for anything. Not expecting anything either. But you should know — if things were different… I'd want a real chance."
He handed her a small card — not a business one. Just his hotel suite number and a line written in neat handwriting:
"In case you ever want to talk as Layla. Not just Damian's assistant."
He didn't wait for a response.
Just smiled and walked away — leaving her stunned, confused, and standing in the middle of the lobby with a piece of paper that suddenly felt very, very heavy.
Layla sat in her hotel room for over an hour.
The note was still on the table.
One small card. Just a name, a room number… and a feeling she didn't know how to handle.
She wasn't stupid. Luke wasn't playing games. He had nothing to gain from chasing her. And that made it worse — because it felt real.
But so was her loyalty.
And despite everything, Damian was still in her head. Still her boss. Still the man who kissed her kitchen counter then sent her across the world like she was nothing.
Her phone buzzed.
She jumped, hoping it was Damian.
It wasn't.
Just a reminder:
Dinner with the expansion delegates. 7PM. Hotel lounge.
She groaned. Dragged herself into the shower. Put on a sleek black dress. Tied her hair. Looked like she had it all together — even if her mind was falling apart.
She arrived a bit late. Enough people had filled the long table. The usual: handshakes, forced laughs, passing menus around.
Then she saw him — Luke — seated across the room at a two-person table, away from the chaos.
He met her eyes.
He didn't wave. Didn't make it awkward.
Just looked at her… then back at his glass.
The chair across from him was empty.
And something in Layla's chest twisted.
She didn't move toward him. Just took her assigned seat, avoided his gaze, and tried to act normal.
But when the meeting ended, and people got up, and she started walking toward the elevator…
"Layla."
His voice stopped her.
She turned slowly.
Luke was there. Alone. Hands in his pockets.
"Just dinner," he said. "That's all I wanted. A quiet one."
Layla hesitated.
Everything in her screamed no.
But her legs walked forward anyway.
Luke's Suite – 8:15PM
It wasn't a date. No candles. No smooth jazz. Just room service, a city view, and two tired adults eating dumplings.
He didn't flirt. Didn't touch her.
They talked about anything but Damian. About life. Music. Family. Silence.
And when it was time to go…
He walked her to the door.
"If you're ever tired of being someone's shadow," he said quietly, "I'll still be here. I'm not rushing you. Just letting you know."
Layla swallowed hard.
"Goodnight, Luke."
She left before she could think too much.
But as she walked back to her room, she knew one thing:
This was going to change everything.
Layla pushed her door open slowly. Her heels in one hand, key card in the other.
She was tired.
Tired of smiling.
Tired of pretending.
Tired of the heat Luke's words left in her chest.
She stepped into the room and stopped.
Damian was sitting on her couch.
No jacket. Tie loosened. One hand holding a glass of untouched water. The other resting on his knee.
Layla froze at the door.
"Took your time," he said, voice calm. Cold.
Her mouth opened. Nothing came out.
"Dinner was good?" he added, looking her up and down. "I assume you changed from work clothes for a reason."
Layla blinked.
"How did you even get in here?"
"Same way I pay your salary."
Silence.
She stepped in and dropped her shoes by the door.
"I had a meeting," she said. "Then dinner. Nothing illegal about that."
Damian stood. Slowly. Walked toward her but didn't get too close.
"With Luke Rashford?"
She stiffened. He noticed.
"You think I don't know who's watching my staff when I send them out?"
He scoffed under his breath.
"You looked happy."
Layla swallowed. Her voice was quieter now.
"You sent me away, alone. Like I did something wrong what did I do wrong?"
Damian clenched his jaw. He didn't answer right away. His gaze dropped to the floor for a second before returning to her.
"I didn't expect you to look back."
They stood in silence. The air between them heavy.
Then, Damian walked past her. Stopped at the door.
"You still work for me. Don't forget that."
He opened the door but didn't leave yet.
"Be ready by 5am. We're flying back together."
Then he was gone.
Layla didn't move for a full minute.
Her stomach twisted. Her heart pounded.
And in the corner of the table…
Luke's note was still sitting there.
Unopened.
Damian's POV
He didn't plan to come.
Not really.
Layla had everything under control. As usual.
She always did.
But when he saw her name flash on the final report, followed by a string of pictures from that dinner — her in a dress he didn't approve, sitting across from Luke Rashford — something snapped.
That man had been circling for weeks.
Too friendly.
Too curious.
Too damn open.
Damian hated that.
So he booked the flight.
No assistant. No warning. Just showed up at the branch office. One look at their stunned faces when he walked in told him enough — they never thought he'd come down here. Layla had already done most of the heavy lifting. She didn't need him there.
That made it worse.
He couldn't explain it, even to himself.
Why he made her carry all the silly gifts from those women. Why he told her to catch the train.
And why—ten minutes after watching her walk away—he drove back and pulled up beside her like nothing happened.
She said she'd eaten. Her stomach told him otherwise.
Of course he noticed.
He always noticed.
So he turned the car around and took her to dinner. No talk. Just food. No reason. No apology.
He didn't know how to talk when it came to her.
That was the truth.
Back at her place, he didn't want to leave. He had no plan. No excuse. So when she didn't come back for a while, he used the hotel key card he knew they gave to all traveling staff. Walked in. Sat down.
He waited.
When she finally walked in, all flushed and guilty-looking, something cold settled in his chest.
He hated how it made him feel.
Not because she went to dinner with Luke.
But because she looked like she didn't need him anymore.
She was starting to act like she could leave.
And he was just realizing…
He didn't want her to.
Not now.
Not ever.