Damian's POV
The moment I ended the call, I knew I hadn't imagined it...
the faint shuffle by my office door, the prickling awareness that I wasn't alone.
Clara never knocked.
True to form, she eased the door open without waiting for permission, a silk shadow in a fitted black dress, her posture too casual to be innocent.
"You're here late," she said, her voice smooth as lacquer.
"So are you."
I didn't look up from my desk. I needed the distance, even if it was just the width of polished mahogany between us.
She stepped inside and closed the door with a soft click.
That sound was never just a sound. With Clara, every movement was deliberate.
"I couldn't leave without going over the acquisition files," she said, then tilted her head.
"And I heard… something."
Of course she did.
My jaw tightened. "Eavesdropping is a new low, even for you."
