The day moved in a blur for Amara. She sat behind her desk, trying to focus on her work, but the endless murmurs outside her door made it almost impossible. Every time footsteps passed, she could hear hushed voices-her name always slipped in somewhere. Amara... Damian... wedding... It was a loop she couldn't escape.
Still, she held her chin high, determined not to let their whispers weaken her. She typed with steady fingers, reminding herself that Damian's words that morning were still fresh in her ears: "We're getting married soon. Let me handle everything."
Not long after, a gentle knock came at her office door. Amara lifted her gaze, half-expecting another curious face, but instead, it was Eric. He poked his head in, looking as professional as ever.
"Good morning, Miss Rivera," he said with a slight smile. "Mr. Damian asked me to inform you that there's a meeting at eleven. He'd like you to attend with him."
Amara blinked in surprise. "Me? At the meeting?"
"Yes," Eric nodded. "He insisted. Said it concerns you as much as it does the company."
Amara's heart fluttered. She wasn't used to being dragged into Damian's business matters-at least not officially. But she quickly gathered herself. "Alright. Thank you, Eric."
As the assistant left, Amara exhaled deeply, nerves bubbling in her chest. If Damian wanted her there, then it meant something important was about to happen.
When the time came, Amara walked into the conference room by Damian's side. The air inside was stiff with formality; department heads sat in neat rows, their files open, pens poised. Clara, too, was there, seated at the far end, her sharp eyes following every move Damian made.
Damian pulled out a chair for Amara before taking his seat at the head of the table. That small gesture-so simple yet so bold-did not go unnoticed. A few employees exchanged glances, while Clara's lips curled into a mocking smirk.
The meeting began, filled with talk of profits, expansions, and upcoming projects. Amara listened quietly, taking it all in, though she had little to add. But midway through, Damian suddenly turned to her.
"Amara, what do you think?" he asked.
Her heart nearly stopped. "Me?" she stammered.
"Yes, you," Damian said calmly, his gaze locked on hers. "You've been working closely with the design team. Do you think this proposal captures the image we want for the company?"
Dozens of eyes darted toward her. Amara felt the heat rise in her cheeks, but she squared her shoulders and looked down at the papers in front of her. After a moment of thought, she spoke.
"I think it's good," she said carefully. "But it lacks a personal touch. Our clients don't just want quality-they want to feel like the brand cares for them. If we can show that in the designs, I believe it would stand out more."
For a heartbeat, silence hung over the room. Then Damian's lips curved into a faint smile. "Exactly my thoughts," he said, nodding at her. "Thank you."
The room shifted; some executives looked impressed, others stunned. Clara's smirk, however, faltered ever so slightly.
The meeting ended, and people filed out. Clara, of course, lingered. "Quite the performance," she sneered softly as she passed Amara. "You play your role well."
Amara's hand tightened around her folder, but before she could respond, Damian's voice cut in.
"Clara," he said sharply, his eyes cold, "watch your tongue. If I hear you disrespect Amara again, you won't just answer to me-you'll answer to your father as well."
Clara's jaw tightened, but she forced a laugh, masking her anger. "Of course, Damian. Whatever you say." Then, with one last glare at Amara, she swept out of the room.
Left alone, Damian turned to Amara, his expression softening. "You were perfect," he said.
"I was terrified," she admitted with a nervous laugh.
"But you handled it with grace. That's why I want you by my side-not just in my personal life, but in everything," he said, reaching out to brush her hand. "This company will be ours, Amara. Together."
Her breath caught, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. His words weren't just promises; they were declarations, spoken with the same conviction he used in business.
But beneath the warmth, worry gnawed at Amara. She thought of Clara's mocking smile, of the whispers in the office, of the unseen battles Damian had yet to face with Mr. Simon Glover. She knew their road ahead would not be easy. Still, as Damian's fingers closed around hers, she felt a sense of strength she hadn't known before.
For now, that was enough.
Later that evening, Damian took Amara out for shopping. The mall was bright and lively, filled with soft music and polished displays. Amara tried on dresses, shoes, and elegant handbags, each one making Damian's eyes linger a little longer. He loved seeing her smile as she modeled different outfits, twirling lightly in front of him.
They spent hours moving from store to store, talking, laughing, and sharing quiet moments in between. By the time they finally left, Amara's hands were full with bags, and her heart was light, though her body was tired and her stomach growled with hunger.
As they drove home, Damian's tone shifted, softer and more personal.
"Amara," he began, glancing at her, "do you have any relatives? Anyone I should meet before our wedding?"
She paused, her smile fading just a little. "No," she said quietly. "I lost my parents when I was in high school." For a moment, her voice trembled, but then she forced a gentle smile. "But don't worry. I'll take you to their graves before we get married. They may not be here, but they'll still be part of my life... and now, part of ours."
Damian reached over and took her hand, giving it a firm squeeze. "Then we'll go together," he promised.