The city was awake long before Damien Kane allowed himself to leave the sanctuary of his penthouse. His phone had been buzzing since dawn, a symphony of calls, alerts, and emails that only meant one thing: the story was out.
Photos. Headlines. Gossip.
He hadn't needed to open them to know what they were. He'd seen the flash of paparazzi bulbs last night when he'd reached for Elara's hand, when he'd leaned down to tell her something only she should've heard. He should've shielded her. He hadn't.
Now the wolves had their feast.
Damien sat at the long marble island in his kitchen, tie loose, suit jacket hanging off the back of the chair. He'd read the articles once—only once—before slamming the phone down. The words were still carved into his mind like acid on glass.
"Mystery Woman or Office Romance? Billionaire CEO Spotted With Assistant."
"Damien Kane Finally Breaks His Rule: No Mixing Business With Pleasure?"
"Who Is She? The Woman Behind Kane's Empire."
Her name wasn't in the stories yet. But it would be. They always found the name.
Damien gripped his coffee mug so tightly it threatened to crack. The caffeine didn't help; his veins already thrummed with fire. He wasn't worried about himself—he'd survived worse scandals, clawed his empire out of a hundred storms. But Elara? She wasn't built for this kind of spotlight. She was fire, yes, but the wrong kind of fire could consume her whole.
And it was his fault.
A knock at the door pulled him out of the spiral. He didn't need to ask who it was—he recognized the rhythm of the sound. Only one person dared to barge into his mornings uninvited.
"Come in," Damien bit out.
Lucas, his COO—and oldest friend—stepped inside, a stack of folders under one arm, a grim look on his face. "You've seen it?"
"I've seen it," Damien muttered, pushing the untouched coffee away.
Lucas dropped the folders onto the counter. Clippings, screenshots, crisis reports. "It's spreading fast. PR is drafting statements, but HR is already buzzing. They're worried this could open the company up to lawsuits."
Damien's jaw tightened. "Lawsuits for what? For being human?"
"For being reckless." Lucas's tone was calm, but his eyes were sharp. "Don't get me wrong, I like Elara. I think she's good for you. Hell, she makes you smile more than anyone has in years. But this—" He tapped the papers. "This is messy, Kane. You knew what would happen if the world caught wind."
Damien didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stood, pacing toward the wide glass windows that stretched across the room, giving him a panoramic view of Manhattan's skyline. His reflection stared back at him—composed, cold, dangerous. The mask he wore in boardrooms. The mask Elara had somehow peeled away without even trying.
"I don't care what happens to me," Damien finally said, voice low, lethal. "But if they drag her name into this—if she gets even one ounce of fallout because of me—I'll bury every single outlet that prints her name. I'll make sure the world remembers who runs this city."
Lucas studied him for a long beat before exhaling. "That's not what she needs, Damien. She doesn't need you starting a war. She needs you to protect her the right way. Strategically. Quietly. Without burning everything down."
Damien turned, eyes narrowing. "You think I don't know that?"
Lucas didn't flinch. "I think you're too close to see clearly."
The words cut deeper than Damien wanted to admit. Because it was true. He'd built his empire on clarity, control, and ruthlessness. But with Elara, there was no clarity—only chaos. No control—only the pull of her laugh, her stubbornness, the way she looked at him like he wasn't just a man with money and power, but a man who could be… more.
And that scared him more than any headline.
The buzzing of his phone returned, vibrating insistently against the counter. Damien strode over, snatched it up. An email from HR. Subject line: URGENT – Assistant Elara Hart.
The blood in his veins turned to ice.
He didn't even need to open it to know. They'd dragged her in. They were questioning her.
His chair screeched against the floor as he shoved it back. "Where is she?"
Lucas frowned. "Damien—"
"Where is she?"
"At the office," Lucas admitted. "HR called her in this morning."
Damien's vision tunneled. The idea of her sitting in that sterile room, surrounded by corporate sharks asking invasive questions, treating her like a problem instead of the solution she was—
He didn't think. He didn't plan. He just grabbed his jacket.
Lucas called after him, "If you go storming in there—"
"I won't storm," Damien said, slipping into the mask again, though his pulse raced like wildfire. "But if they so much as look at her wrong, I'll remind them exactly who they work for."
And with that, Damien Kane walked out, fury and desperation clashing inside him.
For the first time in his life, his empire wasn't the priority.
Elara Hart was.
And if the world wanted to call her his weakness—
then so be it.