The atmosphere in the office was calm, but the moment Damian Knight stepped out of his glass-walled office, it shifted like a silent wave. Conversations faltered, keyboards slowed, and eyes subtly followed his every step. His presence always carried weight, but now there was an extra layer-everyone knew he and Amara were together. The whispers that had once been speculation were now confirmed fact, thanks to his bold rooftop declaration.
Amara felt the change in the room before she even looked up. Her pen paused on the page when the rhythm of footsteps drew nearer. Slowly, she lifted her gaze, and there he was-Damian, walking toward her with quiet confidence, his eyes locked on her as though no one else in the building mattered.
Her heart gave a nervous leap. She hadn't expected to see him again so soon after leaving his office an hour ago. She thought he'd be busy, buried in meetings, but now here he was, striding toward her desk with his usual air of authority.
"Ready?" His voice was calm, low, but it carried through the quiet of the office.
Heat rushed to Amara's cheeks. She glanced around at her colleagues, who were doing a terrible job pretending not to watch. Some quickly ducked their heads, while others leaned toward each other, whispering behind half-raised folders.
Amara stood, gathering her things quickly to avoid prolonging the stares. Damian stepped aside to give her space, but his hand brushed lightly against her lower back, a silent but deliberate claim. She heard someone let out a faint chuckle from across the room, and her chest tightened-but Damian didn't even blink.
To him, there was no scandal in this. There was no reason to hide.
As he led her out of the office, Amara lifted her chin, trying to steady herself. The whispers followed them, but she kept her eyes ahead, letting Damian's quiet confidence anchor her.
---
The car ride was a contrast to the office noise-peaceful, intimate. Damian drove with one hand resting casually on the wheel, the other occasionally reaching over to find hers. Each time his fingers laced with hers, Amara felt the tension in her chest ease, replaced by a soft warmth.
"You seemed nervous back there," Damian said after a few minutes, his eyes still on the road.
Amara exhaled softly. "Everyone was watching."
"They can watch," he said simply. "It doesn't change anything." His thumb brushed gently across her knuckles. "I don't care who knows. You're mine."
Her cheeks warmed again, but this time from something sweeter than embarrassment. She turned her gaze toward the window, smiling faintly, her heart beating faster than she wanted to admit.
---
When they arrived at her apartment, Damian parked and stepped out, walking around to open her door for her. Amara tried to protest-"You don't have to-" -but the look he gave her silenced the words. He walked her up the steps, his hand resting at her back the whole way.
At her door, he lingered. His gaze softened, the usual steel in his eyes replaced by something more tender.
"Amara," he said quietly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek. "I meant what I told you before. I don't just want you for moments like this. I want you with me. In my space. By my side."
Her breath caught, her fingers tightening on the strap of her bag. His words were steady, sure, the kind that carried no hesitation.
"Damian..." she whispered, torn between the thrill of his offer and the swirl of nerves inside her.
He leaned closer, his voice low, intimate. "Think about it. You don't have to decide tonight. But I want you with me-not just visiting, not just halfway. I want you to stay."
He kissed her forehead gently, lingering just long enough to make her close her eyes. And then, with a final squeeze of her hand, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing at the door with her heart pounding.
---
Inside her apartment, Amara sank onto the edge of her bed. Her bag sat half-open beside her, the contents spilling slightly as though waiting for her decision. She ran her fingers across a folded blouse, her mind replaying Damian's words, his touch, the way his presence seemed to chase away every doubt she had.
Slowly, she began placing clothes into the bag. Not all-just enough. Enough to feel the reality of what she was doing. With each piece she folded, her nerves tangled with excitement.
Tomorrow, she thought with a small, certain smile. Tomorrow, she would take that step. Tomorrow, she would stay with him.
Amara's small apartment felt unusually quiet that night. After slipping her clothes neatly into the half-packed bag, she wandered into the kitchen. Cooking always calmed her nerves, so she pulled out a few ingredients-rice, vegetables, and some grilled chicken she had marinated earlier.
As the aroma filled the air, she caught herself smiling. Her mind kept drifting to Damian, to the way he had looked at her as if nothing else in the world mattered. By the time she sat at the table with her plate, she was barely tasting the food-every bite carried the warmth of thoughts about him.
When she finished, she cleaned up quickly and moved to the bathroom. Steam filled the space as she slipped into a warm bath, letting the water soothe her skin and wash away the heaviness of the day. She leaned back, closing her eyes, and a small laugh escaped her. Here she was, nervous about packing a bag, while Damian was so certain, so sure of what he wanted.
Afterward, dressed in a soft nightgown, she climbed into bed and reached for her phone. Almost as if he had been waiting for her, Damian's name flashed across the screen.
"Hey," she answered softly, her voice warm.
"I was hoping you'd call," he said, his tone carrying that deep, calm affection that made her chest tighten.
They spoke quietly about their day, but soon the conversation turned softer, more personal. He told her how he couldn't stop thinking of her, how the office felt emptier once she had left. She teased him gently, but every word left her blushing under the covers.
"Amara," he murmured through the phone, his voice husky with sincerity, "I can't wait for the day I fall asleep beside you and wake up to you in the morning."
Her heart skipped, and though she tried to respond lightly, her voice betrayed her. "You're impossible, Damian Knight."
"And yet," he chuckled softly, "you can't get rid of me."
They lingered in conversation until her eyelids grew heavy. His voice was the last thing she heard before sleep claimed her, warm and soothing like a lullaby.
---
Morning sunlight crept through her curtains, nudging Amara awake. She stretched lazily, then hurried to prepare for work. Her nerves buzzed as she stood in front of the mirror, applying a light touch of makeup, carefully choosing her outfit. The half-packed bag on the chair caught her eye again, a reminder of the decision that awaited her.
Just as she was slipping on her heels, a knock sounded at the door. Amara frowned, surprised. She wasn't expecting anyone. When she opened it, her breath caught.
Damian stood there, perfectly put together in his suit, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a small takeaway coffee tray. His eyes softened as they met hers.
"Good morning, Amara," he greeted smoothly, as though it were the most natural thing in the world to show up at her door.
She blinked, half in shock, half in delight. "Damian... what are you doing here?"
"I thought I'd surprise you," he said, stepping forward with a faint smile. "I couldn't let you go to work alone today." He lifted the tray slightly. "And I brought coffee. For us."
Her heart melted at the gesture, her earlier nerves dissolving into warmth. As he handed her the cup, their fingers brushed, and the look in his eyes made her realize-this was only the beginning.
---
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