Janet’s POV
The air in the Starling-Blackwood was so tense that it created an uneasy silence, filled with the scent of expensive cologne. If I could bottle that aroma, I would sell it as a limited edition Paris perfume.
I stood before the directors in the board meeting, my shoulders tight with tension. I felt like I might tremble, but Damon’s steady gaze encouraged me, as if he was silently telling me that he had my back.
“The marketing strategy plan must be executed correctly. That’s why we need to incorporate social media marketing, it will boost sales this year and enhance the company’s popularity,” I said, demonstrating the plan projected on the screen.
“How sure are you? What makes you think our upcoming AI app will fit into social media marketing?” asked one of the directors, Abernathy.
Oh my God, what a strange question! Who doesn’t use the internet these days? I took a breath and replied, “Social media marketing is a great starting point. It’s what everyone uses. Advertising the AI app there will quickly gain recognition, and people will discover how powerful and helpful it is. From there, it can take off, especially since people are increasingly interested in AI.”
Just as Abernathy was about to protest again, Damon suddenly tapped the table three times. In an instant, the room fell silent. His commanding presence silenced everyone, creating an aura that demanded attention.
He was impeccably composed, with a sharply defined jawline, perfectly styled hair, and a tailored suit that could cover my expenses for a good ten months. He was strikingly handsome—everything about him screamed perfection. But Why did it always have to be the handsome ones?
He tilted his head slightly and said, “Let’s follow her plan; there’s potential in what she’s proposing. That shouldn’t be too difficult, right?”
“Yes sir. Abernathy said. Swallowing his shame.
“Anyone who has something to say? Everyone went on a silent mode.
No one dared to breathe one. He broke the tension by shuffling the Papers, and the meeting was effectively over. A dismissal from Damon was as good as a royal decree.
As the board members filed out, muttering amongst themselves, I felt a wave of relief so profound I could have melted into the plush carpet. I gathered my notes, my hands still shaking slightly.
“Owe you one,” I said, looking up as Damon approached, his long strides eating up the length of the room.
“Nonsense,” he said, his lips twitching into a smile that was meant only for me. “You had them. I just sped up the inevitable.” He stopped in front of me, filling up the space between us.
“You were brilliant, Jan.”
“I had my secret weapon,” I grinned, tapping my temple. “The unwavering support of my gay best friend. Abernathy probably thinks we have a standing spa appointment every Thursday.”
Damon’s smile faltered only just for a second, something was unreadable in his dark eyes before it was gone. “Probably,” he said, his voice a little tight. He cleared his throat and gestured toward the door. “Come on. I had my assistant bring in that god-awful, overly-sweet coffee you like. We can celebrate.”
“Now you’re talking.”
Five minutes later, we were in his corner office, a sprawling space with vivid views of the city. The coffee was indeed god-awful and perfect. I kicked off my heels and curled up on one of the plush leather sofas, letting out a groan of pure satisfaction.
“You’re a lifesaver, D,” I said, taking a long sip. “Seriously. I thought Abernathy was going to have an aneurysm.”
Damon wasn’t listening. He was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his back to me, looking out at the city below. His suit couldn’t hide the pressure in his shoulders.
“Hey,” I said. “You okay? You seem… off.”
He turned and smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Just thinking. Long day.”
“Tell me about it.” I sighed. “You know, I ran into Mark from my yoga class this morning. He was asking about you again. I think you broke his heart when you didn’t show up for my birthday party.”
Damon’s jaw tightened. “I had that investor dinner. You know that.”
“I know, I know. I’m just saying, the man is gorgeous, successful, and he asked about you. Specifically. I could put in a good word. Maybe you two could—”
“Janet, stop,” he said with an uninterested tone.
I blinked, taken aback. “Sorry. I was just trying to help. You never let me set you up. It’s hard to meet people, even for you.”
He ran a hand through his perfectly styled dark hair, messing it up. It was a nervous habit he’d had since we were ten. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just… It’s complicated.”
“Complicated how?” I sat up, looking concerned. “Is there someone? Did you meet someone and not tell me? I’ll kill you, Sterling.”
A genuine, sad little laugh escaped His lips. “No. No, there’s no one.” He walked over and sat on the coffee table across from me, his knees were almost touching mine.
“It’s just… my parents.”
Ah. The two words that could suck all the joy from any room. His parents, Theodore and Eleanor Sterling-Blackwood, were from a different era. An era of arranged marriages, stiff upper lips, and treating their son’s personal life like a corporate merger that needed a favorable outcome.
“What have they done now?” I asked.
Just then, his phone buzzed on the glass table. The screen lit up. FATHER. Damon’s face transformed. The warmth, the frustration, even the flicker of humor, everything disappears, replaced by a cold expression. He stared at the phone as if it were a venomous snake.
“Don’t answer it,” I whispered.
But he was already reaching for it, his hand movements were stiff and kind of a robotic manner. He stood and walked back to the window, turning his back to me again.
“Yes, Father,” his voice sounded so formal. there where a moment of silence. “I haven’t forgotten.” Another pause, it was longer this time. I could see the muscles in his jaw clenching from across the room.
“She will be there. I’ve made the arrangements.” he sole queitly, but I still heard the steelness in it. “Yes. I’ll see you tonight.”
He hung up without saying goodbye. For a long moment, he didn’t move, his hand gripping the phone so tightly I thought it might shatter. He looked like a king trapped in his own castle.
“D?” I called, my heart aching for him. “What was that about? What arrangements? What’s tonight?”
He turned to me slowly. The smiling and cheerful face was gone and was replaced by profound exhaustion and despair that stole my breath. He looked at me, for a moment, and I saw the little boy I grew up with, the one who was afraid of the dark, the one I’d promised to always protect.
“It’s nothing, Jan,” he said, but his voice was saying otherwise. He tried to smile, a pathetic smile that was more like a frown. “Just family stuff. You know how they are.”
He was lying. I knew he was lying as well as I knew my own name. There was a secret in his eyes, a depth of unspoken words and hidden pain. I saw the weight of the world on his shoulders, but I thought it was the burden of his family’s name, the pressure of his legacy.
I had no idea the weight on his shoulders was because of me. And I had no idea that the "she" he was being forced to bring to dinner tonight was not a date, but a future fiancée. A woman chosen to fix an image I had helped create, and a problem I didn’t even know existed.
“Okay,” I said, forcing a smile while trying to lift the mood. “Well, whatever it is, just remember you have me in your corner.”
His eyes met mine, and for a moment, they were filled with a desperate, longing plea. “I know,” he whispered and it sounded less like an acknowledgment and more like a confession. “That’s the problem.”
