Damien returned late that evening, exhaustion shadowing his face. His suit jacket was slung carelessly over his shoulder, his tie loose, eyes clouded. Zara met him at the door, pausing when she saw the tension etched into his features.
"You look like you've wrestled three boardrooms and a hurricane," she said softly.
He managed a tired smile. "You're not far off."
They walked into the living room in silence. The clock ticked on the wall like a soft drumbeat. Damien poured himself a glass of whiskey and took a long sip before looking at her.
"I need to ask you something, and I want the truth."
Zara's heart jumped. "Alright."
"Did Celine come here today?"
Zara blinked. "Yes… she did."
Damien's jaw clenched. "She's been digging around my company, trying to recruit disloyal board members. I should've known she'd come after you next."
"She offered me money. A clean break," Zara confessed.
Damien set his glass down harder than necessary. "Of course she did."
"I said no."
His gaze softened then. "Thank you."
"I didn't do it for thanks," Zara said, meeting his eyes. "I did it because… I'm not done here."
There was a long silence between them, heavy with unspoken meaning. Then Damien stepped forward.
"I don't know what this is between us, Zara. But every day you stay… it matters."
Zara's breath caught.
This wasn't love.
Not yet.
But it was something.
Something growing.
Something unspoken.
And it was enough.
***
The next day, Elenora invited Zara to a charity brunch she hosted annually. It was high society at its glossiest flowing gowns, champagne flutes, whispers behind manicured hands.
Zara, dressed in an elegant cream dress Elenora picked out, stood at the edge of the crowd feeling exposed. The women here didn't even try to hide their disdain. To them, she was still an outsider, an inconvenience.
"You must be the mysterious girl," one said sweetly, stepping closer. "Zara, was it? Quite the name."
Zara smiled tightly. "And you are?"
"Monique Granger. My father funded Damien's logistics wing. We go way back."
Zara nodded politely.
"Just wondering… Do you really think this will last?" Monique added, her voice silk-wrapped poison. "Men like Damien don't marry charity cases."
Zara didn't flinch. "No. They marry women who don't play games in greenhouses."
Monique's smile faltered, and Zara walked away.
Elenora caught her by the elbow near the buffet. "Well done," she whispered with a small grin. "Don't let them eat you alive."
***
That night, Damien found her reading in the library, legs curled beneath her. He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching.
"You're adjusting," he said.
She looked up. "Slowly."
He moved to sit across from her. "You stood up to Celine. To my board members. Even to my grandmother's guests."
"I didn't come here to play safe."
Damien chuckled lowly. "Good."
She leaned forward. "Are you okay, Damien? Really?"
He looked surprised. "I don't think anyone's asked me that in months."
"Well, I am."
He exhaled and nodded. "No. I'm not. But talking to you… makes me feel like maybe I will be."
Zara didn't reply.
She didn't need to.
The silence between them said enough.