Chapter Nine: Beneath the Surface
The soft glow of pendant lights illuminated the private dining area of Bellagio's, an upscale restaurant nestled above the city's pulse. The table Damon reserved was secluded, curtained off by velvet drapes that muffled the sound of clinking glasses and whispered gossip. For once, they weren't CEO and executive — they were just two people in a quiet corner of a city that had always demanded too much from them.
Ava twirled the stem of her wine glass between her fingers, staring at the slow spin of the deep red liquid. "You didn't have to do all this."
Damon leaned back, watching her. "Maybe not. But I wanted to."
She looked up at him — sharply dressed in a tailored navy suit, but it wasn't the clothes that held her attention. It was his expression: open, unguarded in a way she hadn't seen in years. Not since before everything fell apart.
"It feels like the calm before the storm," she admitted, placing her glass down.
He nodded. "That's because it is."
The threat, the messages, the sense of being watched — they hadn't gone away. If anything, they'd intensified. Earlier that morning, one of Damon's security team members discovered a small tracking device planted under Ava's car. She hadn't said a word about it during the workday, choosing instead to compartmentalize. But now, across the table from the man who once broke her heart and was slowly learning to hold it again, she felt the edges of fear pressing closer.
"Do you think it's someone inside the company?" she asked.
"I'm beginning to think it has to be."
"Marissa?"
Damon sighed. "Possibly. But Marissa isn't reckless. Petty, yes. Dangerous? I'm not sure."
Ava considered that. "Then who?"
He reached into the inside pocket of his blazer and placed a sealed manila envelope on the table between them.
"What's this?"
"Background checks. Everyone with recent access to you — past and present. You'd be surprised how many people from your past never really went away."
Ava's heart dropped. "That's invasive."
"I know," he said. "But I wasn't going to take any chances."
Her fingers hovered over the envelope but didn't touch it. "I'm scared, Damon."
"I am too."
That simple admission disarmed her more than any empty promise could have.
They didn't talk for a while, letting the waiter serve their food — filet mignon, truffle risotto, and a delicate roasted asparagus that neither of them touched much. The real meal tonight was trust. And rebuilding it wasn't going to happen with wine pairings and candlelight.
"You said you think someone from my past is involved," Ava said after a long pause. "Do you mean… Kyle?"
Damon's jaw clenched. He didn't answer immediately. He didn't need to.
Kyle Grant — her ex, the mistake that followed Damon's disappearance from her life. A man who had seemed kind on the surface but revealed controlling, manipulative tendencies as soon as Ava was vulnerable. She'd left him after two years, bruised emotionally and financially, but alive.
"His name came up in the background check," Damon finally said. "He's working at a rival firm now. One of our most aggressive competitors."
Ava let that sink in. "You think he's trying to sabotage us?"
"I think he's trying to sabotage you. And I think hurting me is just a bonus."
She stood suddenly, needing to move. Damon followed her without a word, and they stepped out onto the restaurant's rooftop balcony. The night was cold, the wind sharp, but she barely noticed. She gripped the stone ledge with white-knuckled fingers, trying to ground herself.
Damon stood behind her, his voice quieter now. "I should've never let you go, Ava. Back then… I thought I was doing the right thing by walking away. I thought I was protecting you."
She turned to him, eyes wide with old hurt. "You left me, Damon. Without an explanation. Without a chance to fix anything."
"I know," he whispered. "And I've regretted it every damn day."
Something inside her cracked — not in a way that made her fall apart, but in a way that made room for healing.
"I loved you," she said.
"I still do."
The words hung between them like a suspended breath.
And then he kissed her — not with desperation, but with conviction. It wasn't the first kiss since they'd reunited, but it felt like the one that mattered. The one that finally said what both of them had been too afraid to admit.
When they pulled apart, Ava rested her forehead against his. "If Kyle's behind this…"
"Then we go to war. Together."
She laughed softly, bitterly. "I've already lost that war once."
"This time, you have backup."
They didn't linger at the restaurant. The night was far from over.
Back at Ava's apartment — a modest but elegant place nestled in a mid-rise near Gramercy — Damon paced as she scrolled through old emails, looking for anything she might've missed. Messages from Kyle, old contacts, odd spam from unknown addresses — it all blended into a digital sea of possible threats.
Damon stopped near her bookshelf, scanning titles absentmindedly. "You still collect first editions."
"Some habits don't die," she said without looking up.
He picked one up. "Jane Eyre?"
"I related to her. Strong. Betrayed. Still capable of love."
He turned to her. "You were always capable of love, Ava. It was me who didn't know what to do with it."
She closed her laptop, rubbing her eyes. "I don't want to fight the past anymore."
"Then don't. Let's fight for our future instead."
That night, for the first time in five years, she fell asleep beside Damon — wrapped in his arms, her heart still bruised but finally beating with something that felt like peace.
—
The morning shattered that illusion.
A loud knock at the door jolted Ava awake.
Damon was already up, shirtless, tense. He grabbed his phone and checked the hallway camera. His expression darkened.
"It's a messenger," he said. "From Kyle's company."
She rose quickly and wrapped herself in a robe. "What?"
They opened the door to a young man holding a sleek black envelope.
"For Ms. Ava Bennett," the man said.
She hesitated, then took it. As soon as he walked away, she opened it — fingers trembling.
Inside was a single piece of heavy cream paper with a message printed in simple serif font:
"You should've stayed gone. You've taken something that wasn't yours. Now I'll take something back."
No name. No signature.
Just a sharp, cruel reminder: peace was temporary.
Damon read it over her shoulder, then reached for his phone. "I'm calling the police."
"Wait," Ava said, swallowing her fear. "If we go public with this, it becomes a scandal. Wolfe Enterprises is already under media scrutiny for the East Coast expansion."
"You think I care about headlines when someone's threatening you?"
She touched his hand. "We have to be smart. Strategic. Just like we were in business."
Damon exhaled slowly, then nodded. "Alright. But we do this my way. I'll hire a private investigator."
"And I'll play the game."
He gave her a look. "What do you mean?"
"I'll pretend to pull away. Make it look like we're no longer involved. That I've stepped back. If he thinks he's winning, he'll get sloppy."
Damon's jaw worked, clearly unhappy. "I hate that you're good at this."
She gave him a tired smile. "I've had practice."
He stepped closer, cupped her face gently. "We'll get through this. You and me."
She nodded, leaning into his touch. "Just promise me something."
"Anything."
"When this is over… when it's quiet again… don't disappear."
"I won't," he said. "I'm done running."
Outside, the city kept moving, unaware that somewhere inside it, two people were bracing for a storm — not as enemies this time, but as allies, lovers, and something dangerously close to soulmates.
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