CHAPTER NINE: THE MEETING

Damian’s POV

I’m pacing.

Four steps to the window. Four steps back. The glass of whiskey on my desk is untouched. The merger file sits in my hands like a prop. I’ve read it three times already, but haven’t absorbed a word.

I pick up the whiskey, needing something to do with my hands.

And then I hear a knock.

“Come in.”

I already know it’s her. No one in this house knocks.

The door opens.

Aria steps inside. Hair down, in Soft shirt and old Pants that are too casual for a boardroom and too familiar for my bedroom.

I force my eyes back to the file. If I look too long, she’ll see it.

“Sir, what would you like me to do?”

Her voice is careful, keeping it Professional. It should cool me down. But It doesn’t.

Because do is a dangerous word when she’s standing in my room at night and I’ve been thinking about her thigh under my hand for the last hour.

This was a mistake. I need space.

I set the file down so hard the glass rattles.

“Study.” My voice comes out flat. “We’ll take the meeting in the study.”

Her brows pull together in confusion.

I walk past her without looking. If I stop, I won’t start again.

“Bring your notes, Miss Sinclair,” I say to the hallway. “And shut the door behind you.”

The study is colder and much more safer. I take my seat behind the desk like it’s a barricade.

She walks in two minutes later.

I dish out instructions. Time zones. Attendees. Talking points for the Sydney partners. She takes the couch across from me, laptop open, pen already moving.

I pretend to read the Q3 projections.

What I’m actually doing is tracking her. The sound of her pen. The way she tucks one leg under herself. The fact that she hasn’t looked up in six minutes.

I haven’t gotten a single word of work done.

The Zoom link glares at me from the screen. I click it. Error. Again. My jaw ticks. I’m thirty-four and being outmaneuvered by software.

“Miss Sinclair.”

Her head lifts.

“I need assistance,” I say, nodding at the monitor. “The call isn’t connecting.”

“Of course, sir.”

She stands. Crosses the room.

She leans over the desk to reach the keyboard. Close enough that I catch her shampoo. Something clean and cheap. It shouldn’t affect me.

It does.

I force my gaze to the screen. Not trying to look at her. Focusing on the error code is easier than focusing on how still she goes when she concentrates.

“Firewall issue,” she murmurs. Her fingers move. Efficiently. “You need to..”

“Just set it up.” My voice comes out sharper than I intend.

She doesn’t flinch. Just nods.

I should look away. But I can’t. I catalog instead, the set of her shoulders when she’s solving a problem. The way her brow furrows exactly 2mm when she’s irritated.

“All done,” she says, straightening. “They should be joining now.”

“Thank you.”

She moves back to the couch. Takes the laptop with her. Takes the distraction with her.

The screen blinks. Investors joining the call.

I exhale once. Quiet.

“Evening, Mr. Smith,” I say. Voice level. He’s our biggest capital line this quarter.

“Damian.” Smith leans back in his chair, vineyard visible behind him. “How are you?”

I don’t do small talk, but I play the game.

“Productive. And your family?” The words cost nothing. I don’t care about his twins or his vineyard. I care about the nine figures he controls.

“All well.” He adjusts his cufflinks. “So. I reviewed the deck.”

I cut straight through the preamble. “And?”

He chuckles. It’s not a good sound. “I’m hesitant.”

I let the silence sit.

“I invest in people, Damian. Not just companies.” He steeples his fingers. “Kane Enterprise… your values don’t align with mine.”

My jaw tightens. “Elaborate.”

“You and your brothers.” He says it like it’s a headline. “Every week, a new magazine New Woman. I don’t partner with men who can’t manage their personal brand.”

My eyes flick to Aria before I can stop them.

She’s frozen on the couch, pen mid-air. She heard it.

Why do I care if she heard it?

I focus back on Smith. “With all due respect, Mr. Smith, our personal lives aren’t relevant to quarterly projections.”

“I disagree.” He smiles without teeth. “How a man treats his commitments tells me how he’ll treat my money.”

I’m calculating the cost of telling him to go to hell when I hear movement.

Aria stands.

“Babe,” she says, sweetly. “You didn’t tell me you had a meeting.”

My blood turns to ice.

She’s walking toward me. Toward the camera.

I glare. What the fuck are you doing, I mouth.

Play along, she mouths back. Eyes blazing.

Smith’s brow lifts. “And who is this?”

Aria slides into frame like she belongs there. Hand resting on the back of my chair. “Hi. I’m Aria. Damian’s fiancée.”

The word hits like a bullet.

Smith blinks and looks from her to me. “Settling down, Kane? That’s new.”

My tongue is lead. One word from me and this implodes.

Aria saves me. Again. “Damian’s private. Hates the press. We agreed to keep it quiet until…” She glances at me, soft. Adoring. It’s a lie so good I almost believe it. “Until we were sure.”

Smith’s entire posture shifts. Approval.

“Well.” He laughs, actual warmth this time. “This changes my risk assessment considerably.”

My pulse is in my ears.

“Tell you what,” Smith continues. “I’m in New York next week. Let’s do lunch. The three of us. I’d like to meet the woman who tamed Damian Kane.”

Aria doesn’t hesitate. “We’d love to, Mr. Smith. Thank you.”

“Looking forward to it,” Smith says.

The screen goes black.

I tap End Meeting once.

Silence fills the study.

She’s still standing beside me. Her hand finally leaves the back of my chair. Like she’s releasing a trigger.

I turn. Slow.

My eyes lock on hers. No desk between us now.

“What the fuck was that, Miss Sinclair?”