chapter 3

The next morning, the office was abuzz with activity as the team prepared for their upcoming pitch. Sophia arrived with a determined expression, her revised proposal clutched tightly in her hands. She had stayed up all night incorporating Damian’s feedback, even if she hated to admit that some of his points had merit.

“Looking confident today,” Trisha remarked, handing Sophia a cup of coffee. “Ready to face the dragon?”

Sophia smirked. “If by ‘dragon’ you mean Damian Westwood, then yes. I’m more than ready.”

Trisha laughed. “I like your spirit. Just be careful—it’s a thin line between impressing him and provoking him.”

Sophia nodded, but inwardly, she wondered if provoking Damian wasn’t half the fun.

In the conference room, Damian sat at the head of the table, his sharp gaze scanning the room as the team gathered. His presence was magnetic, commanding attention without effort. Sophia couldn’t help but notice the way the room seemed to shift around him—people stiffened, conversations hushed.

“Let’s begin,” Damian said, his tone clipped.

One by one, team members presented their ideas. Damian listened intently, his face unreadable, but his occasional interjections were as cutting as ever. When it was Sophia’s turn, she rose confidently, walking to the front of the room.

She laid out her revised proposal with poise, her voice steady as she explained the strategy in detail. She highlighted the emotional connection Damian had emphasized while maintaining the solid foundation of facts she believed was crucial.

When she finished, the room was silent. Sophia’s heart pounded as she waited for Damian’s response.

He leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. “It’s an improvement,” he said finally. “You’ve addressed the key issues, and the structure is sound.”

Sophia exhaled, relief washing over her, but Damian wasn’t finished.

“However,” he continued, his gaze piercing, “your execution still lacks finesse. Passion is good, but it needs to be tempered with precision. Work on that.”

Sophia’s relief was replaced by irritation. She bit back a retort, reminding herself to stay professional. “I’ll make it perfect,” she said instead, her tone calm but firm.

Damian’s lips quirked, almost imperceptibly. “Good. Dismissed.”

As Sophia returned to her seat, she caught a flicker of something in Damian’s eyes—something that looked almost like approval.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of meetings and preparations. By evening, Sophia found herself alone in the office again, tweaking her presentation for the final pitch.

She was so engrossed in her work that she didn’t hear Damian approach.

“You’re still here,” he remarked, his deep voice startling her.

Sophia looked up, her heart skipping a beat. Damian stood in the doorway, his suit jacket draped over one arm, his sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms. He looked less like the icy CEO and more like a man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“I wanted to make sure everything was perfect,” she said, trying to steady her voice.

Damian stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “Perfection is an illusion, Miss Allen. Strive for excellence instead.”

Sophia raised an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be advice or another critique?”

To her surprise, Damian chuckled—a low, rich sound that caught her off guard. “Perhaps both.”

Sophia stared at him, unsure of what to say. This version of Damian—relaxed, almost human—was a stark contrast to the man who had dominated the conference room earlier.

“Why are you so hard on people?” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

Damian’s eyes darkened, the brief moment of levity vanishing. “Because the world doesn’t give second chances. If you can’t handle pressure, you don’t belong here.”

Sophia frowned. “That’s a lonely way to live.”

For a moment, Damian said nothing. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving Sophia with more questions than answers.

Later that night, Damian sat alone in his penthouse, a glass of scotch in hand. Sophia’s words echoed in his mind.

“That’s a lonely way to live.”

Damian scoffed, downing his drink. What did she know about loneliness? About betrayal?

But even as he tried to dismiss her, he couldn’t shake the memory of her fiery green eyes, the way she stood her ground despite his harshness.

She was different. And that unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

Sophia, meanwhile, lay awake in her tiny apartment, replaying her interactions with Damian. She hated how he got under her skin, how he made her question herself. But beneath her frustration was a growing curiosity.

What had made him this way?

As sleep finally claimed her, one thing was clear: Damian Westwood was a storm, and she was standing at its center.

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