Arabella's POV
Arabella sat at her desk, the report in her hands long forgotten. Her eyes followed the printed lines, but her mind refused to focus. Her heartbeat still hadn't settled from the moment she stepped out of Damon's office. She could still feel the warmth of his presence hovering near her, the electricity that had crackled in the air between them.
"Don't do that. Only I'm allowed to."
She had been biting her lip absentmindedly, and when he said that, it had shot straight through her like a jolt. Her gaze had snapped up to find his locked onto hers, unwavering, intense.
Then, as if to undo what he'd just said, he added to the person on the phone, "Bring the bottle to my office. I want to taste that." His voice had been smooth, but he hadn't looked away from her. It hadn't felt like a coincidence. Not to her.
Arabella shook her head lightly, trying to center herself. It was too much. His nearness, his teasing, the brush of his arm when he leaned over to pick up his phone. The air had felt thick. Confusing.
And there was also one more thing.
_"Adrian." _ He had mentioned Adrian out of nowhere. Arabella hadn't even brought him up. Damon had said it like a casual remark, like it didn't mean anything. But it had landed with weight.
Why would he mention Adrian? How did he even know Adrian was from Marketing? She hadn't spoken about him to anyone.
She pressed a hand lightly to her chest, trying to calm the sudden tightness. Was Damon… watching her? Noticing her interactions?
The thought made her both uneasy and a little breathless.
"Hey," Lydia's voice cut through her thoughts. She dropped into the chair beside Arabella, eyebrows lifting with amusement. "You're still red. Did Mr. Kingsley give you the corporate death stare or what?"
Arabella startled, then quickly gave a small laugh. "No, nothing like that."
"You sure? Because you look like you just ran a marathon or something." Lydia leaned closer. "Or are you just thinking about someone?"
"Lydia!" Arabella said, eyes wide.
"What? I'm just saying," Lydia grinned, "Your face is telling a story and I want chapters."
Arabella only laughed again and shook her head. She wasn't ready to talk about this—not when she didn't even know what this was.
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Damon's POV
From the privacy of his glass-walled office, Damon watched Arabella return to her desk. He shouldn't be doing this. He knew he shouldn't. But the habit was growing harder to break.
There was something about her—the way she moved, the way her brows knit together when she was thinking, the way her lips curved when she was amused but tried to hide it.
The way her eyes had widened whenever he leaned in to her space, like today. The way she had completely frozen when he said those words.
He hadn't meant to say them like that. Or maybe he had. He wasn't sure anymore.
"Don't do that. Only I'm allowed to."
He hadn't expected the flush that bloomed across her cheeks, hadn't expected how much he wanted to see it again. Her reaction had sent a thrill down his spine.
He'd covered it well. Redirected the comment to his friend on the phone. But he'd said it while looking right at her. That part hadn't been an accident. It was meant for her.
Then there was Adrian.
Damon had seen him—lingering around her desk during lunch breaks, making her laugh. He'd caught that man watching her with a gaze that lingered too long. It didn't sit well with him. Not at all.
Arabella wasn't someone he could afford to feel this way about. But she was already under his skin. And Damon Kingsley wasn't in the habit of sharing what he considered his.
He reached for his coffee and took a slow sip, his thoughts still on Arabella.
Remembering her laughing at something, her head tilted, eyes sparkling.
His jaw tensed slightly.
Something had shifted. And he wasn't going to ignore it anymore.