Clara's Pov
The moment Damian's assistant told me he wanted to see me, I knew something was wrong.
He didn't ask, he summoned me and when Damian Cross summoned you, it was never for a friendly chat.
I walked into his office, every step measured, every breath calculated. He was standing by the window, suit jacket off, sleeves rolled up, staring down at the city like he owned it and maybe he did.
"Clara," he said without turning around. His voice was low and restrained. "Close the door."
I obeyed, the soft click echoing a little too loud in the silence. "Rough morning?" I asked lightly, forcing a smile.
He turned, slowly and the look on his face killed the joke before it even left my lips. His expression was sharp, unreadable, but there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes.
"Do you want to tell me," he said evenly, "why I just found out you co-signed a merger without my approval?"
I froze. "That deal was time-sensitive," I began quickly. "I only did what….."
He cut me off. "What I didn't authorize."
I swallowed hard. "Damian, the opportunity was about to expire. If I had waited for you to finish your meetings, we would've lost leverage. I was trying to protect the company."
His jaw flexed. "You protect my image, Clara, while I handle the company."
I hated the way his tone made me feel, like I was an assistant, not the woman who had saved his reputation more times than he could count.
"With all due respect," I said, keeping my voice calm, "you hired me because I make quick decisions. That's what PR is, damage control in real time. I thought..."
"Stop thinking for me," he snapped.
The silence that followed burned. He stepped closer to his desk, placing both hands on the surface. "You've crossed a line, twice."
"Twice?" I repeated.
His eyes flicked up to mine, cold and deliberate. "Who put Victor Hale on the guest list last night?"
My throat went dry. "He's an investor, Damian. I thought inviting him….."
".....was another thing I didn't authorize," he finished for me. "Victor shouldn't get within fifty feet of my events. You know that."
"Things change," I said quietly.
"Not with me." His tone was final, absolute. "You're on strike one."
I blinked. "Strike one?"
He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. "One more mistake, and you're done here. You understand me?"
That stung more than I wanted to admit. "After everything I've done for you, you're threatening to fire me over something so minor?"
"I'm not threatening," he said coolly. "I'm setting boundaries."
I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "Since when do we have boundaries?"
His gaze flicked up, and for the first time, I saw hesitation. That was my opening. I moved around his desk slowly, deliberately. "You used to trust me," I said softly. "You used to call me when no one else would pick up. You said I was the only one who understood how your mind works."
He didn't move, but his jaw tightened. "That was before you started overstepping," he said quietly.
"Overstepping?" I smiled faintly, resting my hand on the desk near his. "Or caring too much?"
He looked at my hand, then at me. "Clara."
I ignored the warning in his voice. "You don't have to pretend with me. I know what you're feeling. I've seen the way you look at me when you think no one's watching."
His eyes narrowed. "Careful."
I leaned in, lowering my voice. "You don't have to push me away. I can help you relax, Damian. You've been tense for weeks."
Before he could answer, I reached out, fingers brushing against his wrist. The moment stretched, thick with unspoken tension but instead of the familiar spark I expected, his hand pulled away.
"Enough," he said sharply, standing.
I blinked, taken aback. "Damian...."
"You don't get to use that anymore," he said, stepping back. "Not here."
I felt the sting, but I didn't let it show. "I was just trying to remind you that we're on the same side."
"Then start acting like it." His tone was steel. "I don't mix business with whatever this is."
"Whatever this is?" I repeated, my voice rising despite myself. "You think you can rewrite history and pretend nothing ever happened between us?"
He stared at me, his expression unreadable. "There was nothing to rewrite."
That hurt more than any insult could have.
He picked up a file from his desk, flipping it open as if dismissing me. "You can go now and Clara?"
I swallowed, forcing my voice steady. "What?"
"Next time you think you're doing me a favor," he said without looking up, "don't."
For a moment, I couldn't move or breathe. The same man who used to look at me like I was irreplaceable was now treating me like an afterthought.
I straightened my shoulders, masking the sting with a practiced smile. "Fine," I said quietly. "But don't forget who's been cleaning up your messes for years, Damian. When the next one hits, don't expect me to save you."
He finally looked up, his eyes cold as glass. "I won't."
I turned and walked to the door, each step a small act of defiance. My hand was on the handle when he spoke again.
"Close the door behind you," he said without looking up.
I did.
Outside, I let the mask slip for a second. My hands were trembling, anger and humiliation swirling in my chest like poison.
He thought he could humiliate me, dismiss me like some disposable employee.
He had no idea who he was dealing with. If Damian Cross wanted to play hardball, fine. But the next time I walked into that office, it wouldn't be to explain myself.
It would be to remind him that no one crossed Clara Vale and walked away untouched. I was the backbone of this fucking company and I wasn't going to let him use me and throw in the trash.
This was all because of that girl. "Emma Lawson, you better watch out."