The week began with a quiet Monday morning. Arabella arrived early, as always, her delicate features still carrying the soft glow of the restful weekend she had spent with Yaasi. As she sat at her desk, the hum of the office slowly rose around her. She sipped her coffee in thoughtful silence, her mind lingering—perhaps too long—on the strange feelings Damon stirred within her.
By midmorning, Mr. Caldwell approached Arabella with a request. "Ms Arabella, Mr. Kingsley would like an update on the Mysan project. Could you put together the progress files and present them to him today?"
Arabella nodded, masking the sudden flutter in her chest. "Of course, Mr. Caldwell."
She busied herself gathering the documents, organizing her thoughts and files meticulously. Outside, the office began to fill with the usual buzz. During lunch, Arabella joined Lydia and Adrian. The cafeteria's light chatter surrounded them as Adrian cracked a joke about Lydia's chaotic desktop.
Arabella laughed quietly, glancing away before meeting Adrian's eyes. She had grown more comfortable around him—not close, not warm, but no longer uneasy. Just familiar.
From a corner across the cafeteria, Damon Kingsley watched.
His gaze was unreadable. A stone-set jaw, cool eyes beneath lashes lowered just enough to hide his unrest. He watched Adrian lean slightly toward Arabella, watched her smile—even if politely—and something in his chest pulled taut. She was his. His Bella. His Pearls. He didn't like anyone else hovering near what was his.
Damon turned without a word and walked away with tightened expression.
---
The day passed in quiet productivity. Arabella had been immersed in organizing the compiled error log summaries and performance benchmarks for their latest update. The data was sensitive, and the CEO himself had requested to review the metrics.
It wasn't unusual for Damon Kingsley to request files from team leads, but Arabella hadn't expected he'd want them handed over personally.
Mr. Caldwell approached her desk near the afternoon lull. "Arabella, Mr. Kingsley wants you to take the backend reports to him directly. He said now, before the board review."
Arabella blinked up, surprised. "Oh. Alright, I'll bring them."
She quickly printed the file set and arranged them neatly in a folder, smoothing her blouse and brushing a hand through her hair out of sheer nerves. The thought of being alone in his office again unsettled her—not unpleasantly, but definitely intensely.
She made her way through the corridor, stepping into the quieter zone that led to Damon's private office. One of his assistants gave her a nod, wordlessly permitting her inside.
Inside the Office
The atmosphere was sharply cooled, both from the air conditioning and the muted colors of the interior. Damon stood at his desk near his chair, sleeves rolled to the elbows, posture rigid with a sort of effortless authority. His dark gaze lifted at her entrance.
"Pearls," he greeted, voice low. "You brought the files?"
She nodded, stepping forward and extending the folder. "Yes, sir. The optimization logs and performance report."
She approached the desk to pass the file, feeling a faint flutter in her chest. Something about being alone in this room with him — again — pulled at her nerves in a way she couldn't explain. She reached to place the file on his desk.
But Damon didn't reach for it.
"Read it to me," he said instead. "Summarize the timeline — I want to hear how you've mapped the transitions."
Arabella blinked, then quickly opened the file again, flipping to the relevant page. "Yes, of course, sir."
As she began reading, he stepped closer — slowly, deliberately — until he stood right beside her, his gaze fixed on the page she held. His shoulder nearly brushed hers.
Her voice faltered for a moment, but she kept going, outlining the staging of the upgrade process and the potential milestones. He nodded slowly, and when she turned a little to meet his gaze — to check if he was following — she realized how little space there was between her and him now.
She was backed up to the edge of the desk. Damon stood in front of her, angled slightly, his attention lowered to the file. The closeness was quiet, suffocating in the softest way.
He asked a question — something about the third phase — and she lifted the page to show him. As he took it from her hand, their fingers brushed. Brief but electric. Arabella stilled, heart skipping.
"Thank you."
She gave a small nod and instinctively took half a step back, trying to put a little distance between them—but he didn't return to his chair. He remained close.
"You've been... busy lately," he said casually, flipping the folder open.
Arabella swallowed, unsure where this was going. "Just routine work, sir."
"Visible around the cafeteria," he added, not looking up from the file, "and the break area."
Arabella's brows drew together. "I usually take lunch with Lydia."
He hummed. "And someone from marketing?"
Arabella hesitated. "Yes. He's a friend. We knew each other from the orphanage."
While looking at the files he walked around a bit, now being Arabella with her back towards the desk, and Damon standing one or two steps in front of her.
Damon's gaze finally rose from the file. "Is that so?", There was a slight edge in his words.
There was a pause. His eyes lingered on hers in a way that made her nerves fray just slightly.
He moved slightly forward to place the folder on his desk. As he did, his phone buzzed—lit up across the polished surface. Without asking her to move, Damon leaned in, reaching across her space to grab it.
Arabella froze.
His stretched hand brushed hers while going for the phone. The scent of his cologne—a crisp, woodsy note—surrounded her. She stood still, trying to regulate her breathing, painfully aware of how near he was.
He picked up the phone and answered in a low voice, not stepping back fully. Just leaning away by inches.
"Yeah… I'll deal with that," he said into the phone, his eyes drifting back to Arabella. He caught sight of her biting her lips.
"Don't do that," he said quietly, his tone suddenly weighted.
Arabella stared,stunned, seeing his gaze fixed at her mouth, realising— her lips had been caught under her teeth again.
"I already told you," Damon added, voice silken. His gaze drifting back upto Arabella's face and said, "Only I am allowed to do that. Alright?",
Her heart hammered. She didn't know if he was speaking to the person on the other line — or to her.
Then his gaze shifted — lazily amused — and he continued smoothly, "Yeah. I want to taste that."
Arabella's lips parted slightly, shocked. Her breath faltered. 'What is happening!!!', she thought.
Damon raised a brow at her expression with his lips curling up slighlty and continued, "Yes. Bring the bottle to my office. I'll be here for the next hour."
Arabella's stomach flipped.
It wasn't just the words — it was how he'd said them, how his gaze hadn't wavered. For one long second, she had almost been sure...
When he ended the call, he placed the phone down slowly, then raised a brow at her — not with concern, but with quiet satisfaction.
"What's wrong, Pearls?" he asked lightly. "You look flushed. Is it too warm in here?"
"N-no," she murmured, eyes darting away. "Everything is alright."
"Hmm." He walked around the desk, slow and measured, stopping in front of her — not invading her space, but close enough that she felt it. "You always get flustered so easily, Pearls."
Her throat tightened. She lowered her gaze.
"You've been managing well," he said, more quietly now. "Focused. Calm. Dedicated."
"Thank you," she replied, unsure what else to say. Her voice came out softer than intended.
He stepped back finally, the spell breaking.
"That's all," he said, his tone light,"You can return to your work."
Arabella nodded quickly, clutching her hands to keep them from fidgeting. She turned to leave but paused at the door, somehow sensing his gaze still on her.
She didn't look back.