Amara pov
Amara woke up to the sound of her alarm buzzing sharply beside her. She reached out groggily and slapped it off, then sat up slowly, her heart still pounding. The dream-no, the nightmare-lingered like smoke in her mind. Gunshots, betrayals, hiding in Damian Knight's home, someone trying to kill them... It had all felt so real.
She touched her chest and breathed in deeply. It wasn't real. None of it was real.
Stretching her limbs, she whispered a short prayer and stood to prepare for work. Her small apartment was quiet, as usual. She showered quickly and changed into a neatly pressed blouse and skirt, tying her hair into a sleek bun.
But even as she applied lip gloss in front of her mirror, she couldn't shake the lingering unease. Something about the dream felt like a warning. Still, she dismissed it. It was a new day. A regular workday.
Thirty minutes later, she was on the elevator at Knight Enterprises, her ID badge clipped neatly to her blouse. She tried not to overthink the dream, but stepping into the office and seeing Damian in his glass office stirred something in her stomach.
He looked different this morning-sharper, as if he hadn't slept much. And when his gaze locked with hers across the hall, Amara's breath caught. It was just for a second, but there was a tension there. A slow pull. Like magnets daring to get closer.
She turned quickly to her desk, face burning. It's just a dream, Amara. Focus.
Work resumed with its usual rhythm. Phone calls. Emails. Files being passed back and forth. The team was buzzing with preparations for the upcoming partnership deal with Lysandra Corp. Meetings were lined up, and Amara, as Damian's secretary, was tasked with taking notes, managing schedules, and ensuring everything ran smoothly.
"Amara," Leah, the ever-nosy marketing assistant, leaned over her cubicle. "Did you see the way the CEO looked at you this morning?"
She rolled her eyes. "He looks at everyone like that. Sharp and professional."
"Please," Tolu said with a smirk. "If that's professional, then I'm marrying a prince next week."
Amara chuckled, brushing it off. But the truth was-Damian had been more... present lately. He asked her for coffee more than once this week, and sometimes when they were alone in the office, his eyes lingered a little too long.
Later that afternoon, she was summoned to a strategy meeting. As usual, she slipped in quietly, her notepad in hand. She stood at the back, out of the way, only stepping forward when Damian motioned for her to distribute a few documents.
His fingers grazed hers briefly as he collected a file, and that one second sent a flutter through her chest. She avoided his eyes.
"You okay, Amara?" he asked in a low voice.
"Yes, sir," she replied quickly, barely above a whisper.
But her heart was doing cartwheels.
As the meeting continued, she noticed a new face at the table-elegant, sharp-cheekboned, with perfectly styled curls. The woman was introduced as Vanessa Kingsley, an executive consultant flown in from the UK.
And when Vanessa spoke, her gaze often drifted to Damian-with a familiarity that didn't go unnoticed.
At the end of the meeting, Vanessa leaned closer to Damian. "We should talk more over dinner," she said smoothly, her fingers briefly brushing his sleeve.
Amara caught it-and it stung.
She didn't know why it bothered her, but it did.
Back at her desk, she tried to focus. But Tolu returned, whispering with glee. "Did you see that Vanessa woman? She looks like trouble. Fancy accent and everything. You better watch your CEO, girl."
"I'm just his secretary, Tolu," Amara said softly, though even she didn't believe her own voice.
By evening, as the office began to empty, Damian stepped out of his office and walked straight to Amara's desk.
"Good job today," he said. "You handled the prep well."
"Thank you, sir," she said, standing politely.
He hesitated. "Call me Damian. At least when we're not in front of everyone."
Her lips parted slightly, but she nodded. "Okay... Damian."
He smiled, just a little, and for the first time, it wasn't the cold, professional mask. It was warm. Curious. Dangerous.
As he turned and walked away, Amara sat back down-heart pounding.
Something was changing between them.
And she wasn't sure she was ready.
By evening, the office had quieted. Desks were empty, lights dimmed, and the usual buzz of keyboards and ringing phones had faded into silence.
Amara was still at her desk, typing out the final email for the day. Her back ached slightly, and her eyes were heavy with exhaustion. She hadn't realized everyone had already left until the elevator chimed softly down the hall and echoed back a lonely silence.
Just as she shut her laptop, a voice broke the quiet.
"You stayed late."
She turned. Damian was leaning on the doorframe of his office, his jacket gone, his shirt slightly unbuttoned at the collar. He looked less like a CEO and more like the man from her dreams-the version she didn't want to admit she was beginning to crave.
"I had a few things to wrap up," Amara replied softly.
He stepped forward, slowly, his eyes not leaving hers. "You've been doing well."
That surprised her. "I... thank you."
"I mean it," he said, now standing just in front of her desk. "You've taken on tasks beyond your role, managed pressure, handled the Finance report better than most who've worked here for years. I notice things, Amara."
Her heart skipped. "I'm just doing what's expected of me."
"No." He smiled. "You're doing more than that. You're the reason half the departments are actually on track this week."
Her lips parted slightly, caught between embarrassment and pride. "I didn't think you noticed."
"I notice everything about you."
The room stilled.
Amara blinked. "Sir-"
"Damian," he interrupted, his tone dropping. "Just Damian. When it's just the two of us."
Her breath caught.
She stood, brushing her hands along the hem of her skirt, trying to steady her voice. "Okay... Damian."
He stepped a little closer, and now there was barely any space between them. His gaze lingered on her lips, then her eyes, and she could feel the tension tightening like a string pulled too far.
"Walk with me," he said suddenly, stepping back.
She blinked. "Where?"
"There's a rooftop bar a few blocks away. Nothing formal. I just need to breathe. And... I'd like your company."
Amara hesitated.
Was this a date?
Was it even safe to say no?
But something in his eyes wasn't demanding - it was vulnerable. Like he needed someone who simply saw him as a man, not a CEO.
And deep down, a part of her wanted this too.
"Alright," she said softly.
Damian's smile returned - that rare, sincere one that made her knees weak.
He picked up his phone and keys from the table and waited for her at the elevator.
As the doors slid shut behind them, Amara couldn't help but wonder - was this the beginning of something beautiful... or dangerous?
The rooftop bar wasn't as fancy as Amara expected. It was open, breezy, and alive with soft jazz and the clinking of glasses. A few suited men sipped whiskey, some women laughed over cocktails, but nothing was loud enough to distract from the golden city lights around them.
Damian found them a quiet corner with a view. He ordered for both of them-sparkling water for her, a neat bourbon for himself. Amara tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and tried not to overthink how close they were sitting.
"I don't usually do this," he said, staring out over the skyline.
"Invite employees out for drinks?" she asked carefully.
He turned to her, amused. "No. Talk. Relax. Let people in."
Amara looked down at her glass. "You seem like someone who prefers control."
"I do," he admitted. "But with you, it's... different."
Her fingers paused mid-stir.
He leaned back, watching her. "You challenge me, Amara. Without even trying. You walk into a room and I notice. You walk out and I still notice. It's not something I planned."
She felt warmth crawl up her neck. "I didn't mean to complicate anything."
"You haven't. I just don't know how to keep this... normal."
The silence that followed wasn't awkward-it was loaded. With unspoken thoughts, curiosity, tension.
Then she smiled gently. "You're overthinking it, Damian."
He blinked at her, then laughed. A real one. Low, surprised, almost boyish.
"I probably am," he said.
They sat a while longer, watching the lights. A gentle breeze lifted the hem of her blouse, and Damian instinctively reached out to steady her hand as she held down her skirt.
The touch lingered.
So did his eyes.
Her heartbeat stuttered.
Before she could say anything, his phone buzzed. He glanced at it, frowned slightly, then slid it back into his pocket without answering.
"I should get you home," he said, his voice softer now.
She nodded.
They left in silence, the kind that wasn't empty-but full. Her fingers brushed his briefly as they walked, and though he didn't hold her hand, the air between them was thick with promise.
When they reached her place, Damian walked her to the door.
"I'll see you at work tomorrow," he said, voice low.
Amara hesitated, then smiled. "Yes, Mr. Knight."
He smirked. "Back to that, huh?"
She tilted her head playfully. "Well, you are still my boss."
"And that," he murmured, "is exactly the problem."
He turned and walked away.
And Amara, standing there with her heart pounding, realized she was in trouble.
Big, undeniable, heart-thudding trouble.