The city lights glowed through Maya's floor-to-ceiling windows as she poured herself a glass of red wine. Elise sat opposite her, legs crossed, posture elegant — but the tension in her eyes betrayed the conversation they were about to have.
"So," Maya began casually, swirling her wine, "have you noticed anything yet?"
Elise arched a brow. "About Damian?"
Maya's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Yes, about Damian. Has he said anything… interesting? Looked at you in a way that isn't just business?"
Elise hesitated. "He's… polite. Professional. But he doesn't exactly flirt back."
"That's because you're playing it too safe," Maya said, her tone sharpening. "Damian doesn't chase unless he's provoked. You need to get under his skin. Make him think about you when you're not in the room."
Elise frowned slightly. "And if he finds out what you're really—"
"He won't," Maya cut in smoothly. She set her glass down with a soft clink and leaned forward. "You're there to keep his attention occupied. I don't want him getting attached to anyone else… especially not Layla."
A pause.
Elise gave a slow, calculating smile. "So what do you suggest?"
Maya sat back, eyes glinting. "Little things. Drop by unannounced with something he likes. Let your hand linger when you pass him a file. Wear something that makes him look twice. And when he does look…" She smirked. "…don't look away".
The glass door to Damian's office clicked open. Layla, standing at her desk, glanced up just in time to see Elise glide in without knocking, balancing a tray with two coffees.
"I thought you might need a pick-me-up," Elise said, her voice warm, almost playful, as she set the cup in front of Damian. "Double espresso, just the way you like it."
Damian looked up from his laptop, a faint crease between his brows. "Thank you… Elise."
"Of course," she said, letting her hand brush his as she slid the cup closer. Her smile lingered a moment longer than necessary.
From her desk outside, Layla's pen stilled mid-scribble. She watched as Elise leaned slightly over the desk, pointing to something on Damian's schedule displayed on his monitor. The angle made her dress ride just enough to be… noticeable.
Damian didn't move away, though his expression remained unreadable.
"Also," Elise added, tapping the screen lightly, "I noticed you have a gap at two p.m. Maybe I could help you review those contracts? Two sets of eyes are better than one."
"We'll see," Damian said, his voice calm but clipped.
Elise smiled, unbothered, and left the office with a swish of perfume that seemed to linger in the air.
Layla stared after her, jaw tightening before she forced herself back to her work. She didn't know why it irritated her — or maybe she did, but she wasn't about to admit it to herself.
Inside his office, Damian exhaled quietly, taking a sip of the coffee. His gaze drifted briefly to the glass door, as if sensing the silent storm brewing on the other side.
Alright — here's the end-of-day sequence where Damian cuts Elise down with his trademark coldness, then picks Layla up right in front of her, making the sting twice as sharp.
Scene – Closing Time, Damian's Office
The sun had dipped low, casting streaks of gold through the tall windows. Most of the staff had already left, but Elise lingered, file in hand, lingering in Damian's doorway like a shadow that refused to leave.
"I stayed back so we could go over the contracts together," she said, stepping inside. "Like I suggested earlier."
Damian didn't look up immediately — he finished typing, shut his laptop with measured precision, and only then raised his eyes. His tone was calm, but it carried that quiet weight that could slice through steel.
"Elise," he said, "when I need you, I'll ask. Until then, don't waste my time trying to insert yourself into work that isn't yours."
Her smile faltered. "I was only trying to help—"
"Help," he repeated flatly, "is when it's requested. Otherwise, it's interference. And I don't tolerate interference."
For a moment, the air in the room felt colder than the night outside. Elise swallowed, nodding once before retreating.
The street lamps flickered on as Elise stepped out of the building, clutching her bag, heels clicking against the pavement. She was still replaying his words when a sleek black car pulled up to the curb.
Damian emerged a moment later, not heading for the driver's side — instead, he crossed the sidewalk toward Layla, who was waiting just outside the doors.
She looked up, surprised. "You didn't tell me you were driving me home."
"I didn't feel like letting you take the subway tonight," he said simply, opening the passenger door for her.
From where she stood, Elise froze. The casual, almost protective way Damian's hand rested at the small of Layla's back as he guided her into the car made something sharp twist in her chest.