Damian hadn't called.
Not after she left his house.
Not the next morning either.
Layla told herself it didn't matter. She'd only gone there to ask questions. To clear her head. To confirm what she thought she saw in him.
But still—he let her leave.
No words. No reason. Just that unreadable look on his face and the usual silence.
Back at work, she tried to carry on like normal. She buried herself in reports and scheduled meetings like her skin didn't still remember how close they had been. Like her heart hadn't stalled in his hallway. Like she hadn't stood in front of him half-waiting for something that never came.
Then there was Luke.
Waiting outside the building one evening, casually leaning against his car like a man with time.
"Didn't think I'd catch you today," he said, straightening up when she walked out.
Layla blinked. "Are you stalking me now?"
Luke gave that easy smile. "Not yet. But I've been thinking about it."
She rolled her eyes but didn't walk away.
He opened the car door for her—not to invite her in, just to lean on it and talk.
"You work too hard."
"I don't have much choice."
"Maybe," he said, watching her. "Or maybe you like being needed."
That made her pause.
He took the chance. "There's an art event this weekend. Thought you might want to come. Nothing fancy. Just you, me… wine, maybe something soft on the speakers."
Layla hesitated. "You're persistent."
"I'm patient," Luke said. "Big difference."
She smiled a little at that. She couldn't lie—he was charming. Smooth in a way Damian would never try to be.
Still, something about this felt too easy. Too fast.
"I'll think about it," she finally said.
As if on cue, her phone buzzed.
Damian.
A forwarded email with notes. No greeting. No comment.
Just work.
Like nothing had happened.
Like he hadn't almost kissed her. Like she didn't still feel the echo of that night.
Luke watched her eyes shift.
"Work?"
She nodded.
"Let me know, alright?" he said. "No pressure. Just… don't forget you're allowed to live a little."
Then he got in his car and drove off, leaving her staring down at her phone again.
No messages from Damian. Just more tasks.
She walked home, feeling the pull from both sides. The quiet, cold man who confused her. And the warm one who wanted her attention.
One drew her in with silence.
The other, with charm.
She didn't know who she wanted to hear from more.