Before Ana could take another step toward the office door, Damian reached out, his long fingers smoothly wrapping around her wrist.
"Where do you think you’re going, doll?" Damian asked, grabbing his suit jacket from the back of his chair with his free hand.
Ana glanced down at his grip, raising an eyebrow. "Back to my department. I have a short strategy to finish."
"Work can wait," Damian replied smoothly, slipping into his jacket and adjusting the cuffs. "You skipped breakfast aside from an angry slice of toast. We’re getting lunch."
"I am not hungry..."
Her stomach betrayed her with a faint, mutinous rumble that echoed softly in the quiet office.
Damian’s lips twitched with amusement. "Your stomach begs to differ. Come."
Instead of taking the private underground parking exit, Damian led her straight out of the executive elevator into the grand, bustling ground-floor lobby.
The moment the doors slid open, heads turned across the entire marble expanse.
High-level executives, department managers, and security staff stopped, murmuring in hushed tones as they watched the untouchable CEO of Sterling Global step into the light.
Ana instinctively tried to create a polite, professional step of distance between them.
Damian wasn’t having it.
Without breaking stride, he reached out, sliding his large hand over hers and firmly interlacing their fingers. His grip was warm, strong, and entirely unyielding.
Ana’s breath hitched. She attempted a subtle tug to free her hand, but Damian only tightened his hold, pulling her closer to his side as they strode past the main security checkpoints.
The message to the entire company... and anyone watching from the upper balconies... was unmistakably clear... She belongs to me.
A faint heat rose up Ana’s neck, but feeling the heavy, grounded warmth of his palm against hers, she didn’t pull away a second time.
He brought her to a quiet, high-end bistro tucked away in a sunlit courtyard just two blocks from the corporate tower.
The restaurant immediately ushered them to a private corner booth surrounded by lush green topiaries and shielded from the view of the street.
When the waiter handed them their menus, Ana scanned the options, her stubborn streak flaring back up. If Damian Sterling wanted to buy her lunch, she wasn’t going to settle for a dainty side salad.
"I’ll have the garlic butter ribeye, medium-rare," Ana announced to the waiter, closing her menu with a snap. "With truffle parmesan fries, the creamy wild mushroom pasta, and an iced lemon tea."
The waiter blinked in surprise at the hefty order for one petite woman, but Damian didn’t even bat an eye.
"Make that two of the ribeye," Damian instructed calmly, handing over his menu. "And ensure there are no crushed walnuts anywhere near her plate."
Once the waiter bowed and stepped away, silence fell over the secluded booth.
Damian leaned forward across the small table, resting his elbows on the linen cloth. His dark eyes softened as he reached across, his fingers lightly brushing against the curve of her jaw, tilting her face up toward him.
He leaned in, his lips parting slightly as he moved in to claim a slow, intimate kiss right there in the quiet alcove.
Ana reacted instantly. She pulled back against the velvet bench, pressing a firm hand against the center of his chest and turning her face away so his lips barely grazed the air by her cheek.
"Don’t," Ana said, her tone sharp as she gave him a pointed glare. "Buying me lunch doesn’t mean you’re forgiven. I am still angry with you."
Damian paused, hovering inches from her face. A faint, wicked smirk danced at the corner of his mouth at her defiance.
He didn’t force the kiss; instead, he lingered for a second, his thumb lightly stroking the heated skin beneath her cheekbone before slowly leaning back into his seat.
"Fair enough, Anastasia," he murmured, his dark eyes brimming with quiet amusement. "Duly noted."
A few minutes later, the waiter returned, and the rich aroma of sizzling butter, garlic, and fresh rosemary filled the table.
Ana picked up her steak knife, ready to dig into her meal, but Damian quietly reached across the table.
Without a single word, he took her plate, traded it for his own, and began slicing her steak into neat, bite-sized portions with effortless precision.
He moved naturally, without any smug commentary or arrogant smirk... just a quiet, focused attentiveness that felt entirely instinctive.
Once finished, he set the perfectly cut dish back in front of her, pushing the warm basket of herb bread a little closer to her side.
"Eat," Damian said softly, taking a sip of his sparkling water. "You’ve lost weight over the past two weeks."
Ana sat completely still, staring down at the plate.
She watched his hands... the same lethal, powerful hands that terrorized the city’s financial elite... now gently nudging the dish closer to make sure she was nourished.
A quiet, unexpected warmth bloomed in the center of her chest, softening the sharp edges of the anger she had carried all morning.
Underneath the ruthless tyrant, the calculating billionaire, and the possessive shadow holding her world captive... Damian paid attention.
He noticed the smallest things, remembered every detail, and protected her in ways he didn’t even realize were tender.
Ana picked up her fork, taking a small bite of the tender steak.
"Thank you, Damian," she murmured softly, looking up into his dark obsidian eyes.
Damian held her gaze for a lingering second, a rare, subtle softness passing over his sharp features before he gave a quiet, satisfied nod.
"You’re welcome, Anastasia."
_________________________
The drive back toward the estate was quiet and heavy after work.
Full from the rich meal and worn down by the lingering exhaustion of the work and chaotic days, Ana’s eyelids grew heavy.
Before they were halfway up the winding private road leading to the gates, she drifted off into a deep, peaceful slumber. Her head tipped sideways, resting softly against Damian’s broad shoulder.
Damian shifted quietly, lifting a hand to cup the side of her head, gently cradling her against him so the sway of the vehicle wouldn’t disturb her rest.
He looked down at her soft, sleeping face, his thumb smoothing over her brow as his chest rose and fell in a steady, protective rhythm.
Suddenly, the car took a sharp turn into the underground estate garage, the brakes screeching as the driver stopped the vehicle with an abrupt, jarring jolt.
Ana gasped, jolting awake from the sudden halt, her dark eyes blinking in confusion as she sat up straight herself against the leather seat. "What... what happened?"
Before she could process her surroundings, Damian’s sharp eyes caught the scene outside the tinted windows.
The garage was flooded with armed tactical guards standing in tight, alert formations. Near the private elevator entrance, Walter stood pale and visibly strained, speaking frantically into a radio alongside the head of estate security.
Damian’s instincts flared instantly. The air inside the car turned arctic.
"Stay in the car," Damian commanded, his baritone deadly serious as he reached for his door handle. "Lock the doors from the inside and do not step a single foot out."
"Damian, wait..."
He was already out, slamming the heavy car door behind him.
Ana’s heart began to hammer frantically against her ribs. Sensing the suffocating dread hanging over the garage, she leaned toward the door and pressed the electronic switch, rolling the tinted window down just an inch to catch the voices.
Damian strode toward his men, his aura radiating pure violence. "Report. Now."
Walter stepped forward, his voice trembling despite his best efforts to maintain composure. "Sir... there has been a catastrophic security breach while you were away. The perimeter sensors were completely bypassed by an insider keycard."
Damian’s eyes narrowed into lethal slits. "What happened inside?"
"The master suite was targeted, Mr. Sterling," the security chief reported, his face grim and drenched in sweat. "The entire room has been trashed. And... the intruder tore down your and Mrs. Sterling’s wedding portrait from the main wall and set it on fire in the center of the room."
Inside the car, Ana froze, a cold shiver running straight down her spine.
"Did you apprehend the intruder?" Damian growled, his fists clenching so hard the leather of his gloves creaked.
"No, sir," Walter replied, his voice breaking with horror. "They ambushed the second-floor detail to secure their exit route. Two of our house staff were shot dead in the west hallway... and the shooter fled into the treeline before tactical could establish a lockdown."
Ana pressed her trembling hand over her mouth, gasping in sheer terror behind the glass.
Two innocent people were murdered inside the house. Their portrait burned to ashes. Their private sanctuary was violated.
A single, chilling thought seized Ana’s racing mind, paralyzing her with dread...
Is it... Vivian?
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