Elara had never liked office mixers. Too many fake laughs, too much cheap champagne, too many people trying to impress the boss. Normally she'd fade into the background, keep her head down, and let the noise pass her by.
But tonight, fading wasn't an option. Not when she was pinned in conversation with Adrian Cole, one of Kane Corp's most charming clients.
"And you mean to tell me Damien's had you running all the logistics for the expansion?" Adrian asked, his smile as smooth as his tailored suit.
Elara nodded politely. "Yes. Mostly scheduling and coordination. It's a lot of moving parts, but…" she trailed off with a shrug.
Adrian's grin widened. "That's impressive. I don't know how Kane finds them, but he sure knows talent when he sees it." His gaze lingered a beat too long, admiration sliding into something heavier.
Elara shifted uncomfortably, clutching her glass tighter. She glanced around for an escape route—only to catch the unmistakable sight of Damien Kane across the room.
He was watching.
No—glowering.
Even at a distance, the sharpness in his eyes made her stomach flip. He stood apart from the crowd, a storm in a tailored suit, his jaw tight, his drink untouched.
Adrian leaned closer. "Listen, Elara… I'd love to hear more about how you keep everything together over there. Maybe dinner sometime?"
Before she could answer—before she could breathe—a shadow fell across the table.
"Adrian." Damien's voice was a blade. Smooth, lethal.
Adrian straightened, forcing a grin. "Kane. Good to see you."
Damien's hand slid possessively to the small of Elara's back. The touch was subtle, but to her, it felt like a brand. "I didn't realize my assistant was doubling as your entertainment tonight."
Elara's pulse raced. Oh God. Not here. Not in front of everyone.
Adrian chuckled nervously. "Just appreciating good company. No harm in that, right?"
Damien's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Depends on whose company you're appreciating."
The silence between them sharpened. The air practically buzzed with the tension, guests shifting uneasily nearby. Elara's cheeks burned; she wanted to sink through the floor.
She forced a laugh, desperate to break the moment. "Gentlemen, maybe we should—"
"Excuse us," Damien cut in, his grip on her back tightening as he steered her away.
The second they were clear of the crowd, Elara spun on him. "What the hell was that?"
His eyes were still blazing, jealousy darkening them to near black. "He was flirting with you."
"So? He's a client! That's literally part of the job—being polite."
"That wasn't politeness. That was him trying to put his hands where they don't belong."
Her mouth fell open. "Oh, so now you care where people put their hands? You've been putting yours all over me for weeks, Damien. What gives you the right to—"
He backed her against the wall, caging her in with one arm. "The right," he growled softly, "is that you're mine."
The word mine cracked through her like thunder.
Her breath hitched, her hands trembling around her glass. "You don't mean that."
"Don't I?" His face was inches from hers now, his jealousy stripped bare. "Tell me you wanted him. Tell me you'd rather it was Adrian leaning close, not me."
She couldn't speak. Couldn't think. Because the truth was painted across every rapid heartbeat in her chest.
Damien's eyes searched hers, fire and vulnerability tangled together. Then, with a sharp inhale, he pulled back, raking a hand through his hair like he'd lost control of himself.
"Elara," he muttered, voice rough, "you're driving me insane."
And then he was gone, vanishing back into the crowd, leaving her pressed against the wall, shaken, her heart in chaos.