Chapter 158: The Devil’s Day Out
Damian didn’t flinch. He didn’t drop a dramatic speech, either.
Instead, he let out a low, humorless exhale that ruffled the dark hair against her forehead. His right hand left the mirror, sliding down to trap her wrist... the one currently resting over his wounded ribs.
He pressed her palm flat, hard against the tight surgical tape beneath his shirt. The sudden, reckless pressure made his own jaw clench in raw, authentic pain, but his eyes never left hers.
"Feel that?"
He said, his voice stripped of theater, quiet and jagged.
"I didn’t take two rounds through the lung so you could play office politics with a boy who can’t even look me in the eye. Laugh with him all you want, Ana. But you walk out of this elevator, and the first thing you’re going to think about is whose hand is on your hip."
He didn’t give her time to counter.
His fingers slid into the knot of her hair, not bruising, but firm enough to pull her head back, anchoring her in place. When his mouth hit hers, it wasn’t rage... it was cold, deliberate, and suffocatingly thorough.
It was the kiss of a man who knew precisely how to strip away her defenses, parting her lips with a heavy, uncompromising pressure that swallowed whatever insult she was about to spit back.
Ana let out a sharp, ragged breath against his mouth, her free hand curling into the front of his shirt, caught off-guard by the sheer, quiet gravity of him.
By the time the elevator bell chimed for the penthouse floor, the silence between them was thick, electric, and completely undone.
***********************************
The private elevator chimed softly and slowed down, coming to a smooth stop on the executive floor.
The private elevator chimed softly and slowed down, coming to a smooth stop on the executive floor.
Damian didn’t immediately step back. His mouth lingered close to Ana’s, catching the uneven rhythm of her breath, before he finally pulled away.
His fingers slipped from her hair, tucking a stray strand behind her ear with calm, maddening ease. Ana stayed pressed against the mirrored wall, her cheeks burning hot and her chest rising and falling quickly.
Then, the doors slid open.
Standing right in the reception area, frozen just a few feet away, were Valerie and Julian.
Valerie held a fresh cold pack in one hand and a digital thermometer in the other, having marched out of Damian’s office to track him down.
Beside her, Julian looked like a dark storm cloud. After Clara had completely shut him down downstairs, he hadn’t gone back to his car.
He had taken the private stairs straight to the top floor, carrying the legal files he still needed to hand off to Damian. His hair was slightly disheveled, his jaw tight, his hazel eyes clouded with raw, wounded frustration.
The sight of Damian and Anastasia stepping out... rumpled, breathless, and clearly interrupted... stopped both of them dead in their tracks.
Valerie blinked, her mouth falling open in utter shock as her gaze flicked between Damian’s unbuttoned collar and Ana’s flushed face.
"I came out here because your hourly rest timer went off," Valerie said, her voice high with disbelief, "and you’re making out in the elevator?"
Julian didn’t join in on the joke. He stood stiff, the heavy folders clutched in his grip, his expression bitter and thoroughly exhausted from his fight with Clara. He rubbed the back of his neck, his voice dropping into a rough, dry mutter.
"Great," Julian said, looking away toward the windows. "Clara treats me like a stray dog on the marketing floor, and I walk up here to see you two acting like teenagers. Just take the files, Damian, before I lose my mind."
Damian didn’t look embarrassed in the slightest. With total indifference, he smoothed down his lapel, kept a possessive hand firmly against the curve of Anastasia’s waist, and guided her past them.
"Put the files on my desk, Julian," Damian said coldly. "And Valerie... drop the thermometer, or you’re riding the elevator back to the lobby."
Anastasia didn’t follow Damian out. Instead, she took a quick step back inside the elevator cab, smoothly evading the heavy hand resting on her waist.
Damian turned, his dark brows drawing together in immediate irritation. "Anastasia. Get out. Of the elevator. Now!"
"I don’t think so," Ana said, a bright, mischievous spark lighting up her hazel eyes as she smoothed the fabric of her skirt. She offered him a mock-deferential smile. "I really should get back to work before the boss’s boss’s boss accuses me of coming to the office just to flirt with other men."
Before he could grab her wrist to pull her back out, Ana placed both hands firmly against his broad chest, right over his firm, uninjured shoulder, and gave him a sharp, decisive shove backwards into the lobby.
Damian stumbled back a half-step, his eyes widening in pure disbelief at her nerve.
Ana instantly hit the door-close button on the elevator panel, then punched the button for the twelfth floor. As the heavy metal doors began to glide shut, she leaned forward, calling out cheerfully to his sister:
"Valerie! Make sure you feed him every single drop of that herbal medicinal soup! I just touched him, and I think his temperature is dangerously high!"
"Anastasia, don’t you dare..." Damian started, his voice a low, threatening growl as he lunged forward to stop the sensors.
Ding.
The doors sealed shut right in front of his face with a solid, final thud.
Silence hung over the executive foyer for two whole seconds. Damian stood rigid, glaring at the polished chrome doors like he was mentally ordering a wrecking crew to dismantle the entire shaft.
Beside him, Julian’s dark, sullen mood shattered. The disowned heir let out a loud, genuine bark of laughter, running a hand through his hair as the tension drained right out of his face.
"She pushed you," Julian choked out, thoroughly entertained by the sheer disrespect dealt to the most terrifying man in the city. "She pushed you out of your own private lift and locked you out."
Before Damian could turn around and murder Julian with his bare hands, Valerie seized her moment.
"High temperature?! I knew it!" Valerie gasped, swooping in like a bird of prey.
With lightning-fast speed, she brought the digital infrared thermometer right up to Damian’s forehead and pulled the trigger with a triumphant beep.
"Ninety-nine point four!" Valerie announced smugly, holding the glowing screen up to his face like a warrant. "That settles it. Desk rest, chamomile tincture, and no legal briefs until three. Move, patient."
Damian closed his eyes, inhaling a long, murderous breath through his teeth, looking ready to burn the entire floor to the ground.
Valerie lowered the thermometer, her eyes immediately shifting from Damian’s scowling face to Julian’s slumped shoulders.
She cocked her head, her sharp eyes zeroing in on the lingering misery Julian was trying so hard to hide behind his laughter. "Wait a second. What was that you said earlier, Julian? About Clara treating you like a stray dog?"
Julian froze, the amusement dropping instantly from his features. He shoved a hand into his pocket, looking away toward the reception glass. "It’s nothing, Val. Don’t worry about it."
"It didn’t sound like nothing," Valerie pressed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Every time her name comes up, you look like someone stole your puppy."
Julian let out a rough, self-deprecating sigh, leaning back against the sleek receptionist desk. The sting of Clara’s sharp words downstairs was still raw.
"She just... shuts me down every single time I open my mouth. Puts up a brick wall. Tells me off, tells me I’m playing games, acts like I don’t even exist unless she needs an offshore filing number."
He shook his head, running an agitated hand over his face.
"I don’t know what she wants from me."
"Hold that thought!"
Valerie gasped, her eyes lighting up with utter delight. She threw both hands up in the air to cut him off.
"Stop talking right now! A broken heart and emotional trauma are not things we discuss standing in a cold hallway. I need every single detail, and I need it over a proper, hefty lunch."
Seeing the impending disaster, Damian silently turned on his heel and started walking briskly toward his private office, determined to shut himself behind bulletproof oak.
"Don’t you dare, Damian!" Valerie called out.
She lunged forward with surprising speed, hooking her arm firmly through his uninjured right arm and tugging with all her weight. Damian stopped dead, staring down at her arm like it was a venomous snake.
"Where do you think you’re going?"
Valerie demanded with bright, unwavering authority.
"You have to eat your anti-inflammatory lunch, Julian needs dating therapy, and I’m not leaving you alone to overwork those stitches. Wherever I go, you go, big brother. Now move."
Damian closed his eyes, his jaw clenching so tight the bone showed through his skin, utterly trapped between his sister’s relentless cheer and his friend’s tragic love life. "Can this day end any sooner?"