As people began rising, the manager stood to make a final toast — to the success of the tech team and a promising future ahead. Cheers echoed around, and glasses were raised.
Arabella clinked glasses with Lydia and others around her, only for Damon's glass to suddenly extend beside hers.
"To more such victories," he said, his voice low and smooth.
She met his gaze briefly — startled by the sudden closeness — and clinked her glass gently with his. Her response was a soft smile, carefully polite, but her hand trembled slightly when she brought the glass back to her lips.
As the group began making their way out and people began moving toward the exit, Arabella also stood up, but lingered by the table, her fingers brushing lightly against the edge of her glass. The earlier moment — the unintentional touch, the teasing look in his eyes, and that quiet "owe me one" — played again in her mind.
She hadn't meant to reach for his drink. It was a silly mistake, but with Damon, even the smallest misstep felt amplified.
Maybe it was the nerves, Maybe it was his presence, Whatever it was, it had her thoughts tangled up.
She took a quiet breath, then turned slightly toward him.
"I just… wanted to apologize again," she said, her voice low but steady. "For earlier. The glass thing — it was careless on my part, Mr. Kingsley."
Damon looked up from his untouched drink, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"That's the second time you've apologized for something that made my night more entertaining," he replied, voice dipped in ease and mischief.
Arabella blinked.
He leaned back slightly in his chair, still watching her. "You're very polite, Bella. But I promise I didn't mind. If anything—" his eyes glinted, "—I rather enjoyed it."
The way he said her name — like he had every right to — made something flutter in her chest.
She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came. He didn't tease further. Just held her gaze for a moment longer before finally setting down his glass and rising from his seat.
Arabella looked away first, then picked up her purse and turned towards Lydia, who was waving at her from the door.
As she walked toward the exit with Lydia, she tried to focus on anything but the lingering heat in her hand, or the fact that Damon's gaze had followed her until the very end. The cool night air outside the restaurant helped a little, brushing over her cheeks and grounding her senses.
"You okay?" Lydia asked, nudging her gently. "You've been weirdly quiet. Not your usual I-hate-socializing quiet. More like… shell-shocked."
Arabella managed a small smile. "It's nothing. Just tired, maybe."
Lydia narrowed her eyes. "Mmhmm. Or maybe it has something to do with a certain someone who happened to sit beside you all night?"
Arabella gave her a look. "Please."
Lydia grinned, clearly not buying it.
They said their goodbyes to the rest of the team, and Arabella slid into the cab that had been arranged earlier for those not driving. As she sat back, the city lights streaking past her window, her thoughts drifted again — annoyingly, stubbornly — to Damon.
The ease with which he slipped into her space. The casual press of his fingers. The way he made something as simple as a mistaken drink feel deliberate, intense.
Why had he even joined them? It wasn't like he usually mingled with departments unless necessary. But then again… maybe he had his reasons.
The next morning, Arabella arrived early to the office as usual. She buried herself in code, trying to shake off the weight of that moment.
But it lingered.
And when Damon passed by their floor, as he did on occasion, their eyes met again — briefly. Just a flicker. But enough to make her glance away, heat crawling up her neck.
Damon didn't stop. Didn't say a word.
But that slight smirk on his lips as he walked past?
It said enough.