chapter 5

The week after the pitch saw Sophia navigating a whirlwind of meetings, follow-ups, and revisions. With Damian overseeing the campaign, she found herself in his presence more often than she cared to admit. His relentless perfectionism left no room for error, but Sophia refused to let his criticism shake her confidence.

By the third day, she was starting to notice a pattern. Damian’s harshest remarks were often accompanied by a flicker of something in his expression—something that felt almost like admiration, though he would never admit it.

“Miss Allen, focus,” Damian’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts during one of their meetings.

Sophia straightened in her seat. “I am focused, Mr. Westwood.”

“Good,” he said curtly, his eyes narrowing. “Then you’ll understand why this proposal needs to be revised again. The client won’t settle for anything less than extraordinary.”

Sophia clenched her jaw, suppressing the urge to snap back. Instead, she nodded. “I’ll have it on your desk by tomorrow morning.”

Damian leaned back in his chair, studying her. “See that you do.”

Later that evening, Sophia stayed late to finish the revisions. The office was eerily quiet, the usual buzz of activity replaced by the soft hum of the air conditioning.

She was so engrossed in her work that she didn’t notice Damian entering the room until he spoke.

“Burning the midnight oil again?”

Sophia glanced up, startled. “I could say the same for you.”

Damian approached her desk, his expression unreadable. “It’s part of the job.”

Sophia hesitated, then said, “Do you ever take a break?”

Damian smirked faintly. “Breaks are a luxury I can’t afford.”

Sophia frowned. “You know, there’s more to life than work.”

Damian’s smirk faded, his gaze darkening. “Not for me.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, Sophia saw a glimpse of the man behind the mask—a man carrying burdens he didn’t share with anyone.

“Why?” she asked softly, the question slipping out before she could stop herself.

Damian’s jaw tightened. “Because some things are worth sacrificing for.”

Sophia opened her mouth to ask more, but Damian turned abruptly and walked away, leaving her with more questions than answers.

The next day, Damian was as cold and demanding as ever, showing no sign of the vulnerability he had displayed the night before. Sophia couldn’t shake the memory of their conversation, though. She found herself watching him more closely, searching for cracks in his armor.

She wasn’t the only one who noticed the shift.

“Is it just me, or are you and Mr. Westwood… less hostile lately?” Trisha asked during lunch.

Sophia nearly choked on her sandwich. “What? No. Absolutely not.”

Trisha smirked. “If you say so. But I’ve seen the way he looks at you during meetings. It’s… different.”

Sophia rolled her eyes. “The only thing he’s interested in is finding flaws in my work.”

“Maybe,” Trisha said with a knowing look. “But if I were you, I’d be careful. Damian Westwood isn’t exactly the type to play nice.”

Sophia sighed, unsure of how to respond. Trisha wasn’t wrong—Damian was as intimidating as they came. But there was something about him that made Sophia want to understand him, even if it meant risking her own sanity.

That evening, Sophia found herself staying late again, this time to finalize the campaign’s visuals. She was reviewing the final design when the sound of footsteps made her look up.

Damian stood in the doorway, his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up. He looked tired but no less imposing.

“Still here?” he asked, his tone surprisingly mild.

Sophia nodded. “Just making sure everything’s perfect.”

Damian approached her desk, his gaze flicking to the designs on her screen. “It’s good,” he said after a moment. “Better than I expected.”

Sophia raised an eyebrow. “Was that a compliment?”

Damian smirked faintly. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Sophia laughed softly. “Too late.”

For a moment, the tension between them seemed to ease, replaced by something warmer, almost friendly. But then Damian’s expression shifted, his guard snapping back into place.

“Get some rest,” he said, his tone brisk. “Tomorrow’s another long day.”

As he walked away, Sophia couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. She was beginning to see glimpses of the man behind the icy exterior, but he seemed determined to keep her at arm’s length.

That night, as Damian sat alone in his penthouse, his thoughts drifted to Sophia. She was unlike anyone he had ever worked with—bold, passionate, and unafraid to challenge him. It irritated him, but it also intrigued him.

He knew he should keep his distance, but something about her made that impossible. She was starting to crack the walls he had spent years building, and it terrified him.

But Damian Westwood wasn’t a man who let fear control him.

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