Damian
He hated Mondays.
He hated noise, incompetence, and anything that disrupted his schedule by even thirty seconds.
So when the elevator opened and a trembling girl in a sky-blue dress launched a cup of overpriced caffeine onto his shirt, Damian Voss stopped breathing for a full second.
Not because of the stain.
But because of her.
Wide eyes like storm-washed glass.
A mouth slightly parted in panic.
And innocence raw, unfiltered, dripping off her like perfume.
He should've barked at her. Demanded her name. Fired her if she already worked for him.
But instead, he stared. Silent. Cold.
"You should watch where you're going," he said, not blinking.
She stammered something an apology? he didn't really hear it. His brain, usually so sharp and brutal, felt… dull around her. Off rhythm.
His assistant appeared beside him with napkins, already apologizing for the chaos.
"I'll handle it," Damian muttered.
The girl Elira Lane, he remembered from the interview schedule was still frozen, cheeks flushed red.
"Follow me," he said abruptly.
"W-What?"
"You have an interview. You're already late."
He walked ahead without waiting.
Because for some reason, he didn't want to let her go just yet.