Damian had always considered himself a master of control.
It was how he built his empire, how he kept his name out of tabloids, how he could sit in front of investors who threatened to walk and make them beg to stay.
But now?
Now he was sitting in the back of a luxury car on the way to the hotel, and every muscle in his jaw was locked tight from the effort of not reacting.
Emily was quiet beside him, scrolling through emails on her phone, a crease in her brow that said she was working, not thinking about the way she'd laughed back on the plane.
But he was.
Because for an hour and forty-five minutes, he'd sat across from her while Alex Cooper made her laugh.
Again.
And again.
And again.
It wasn't that he didn't trust Alex. The man was his closest friend, his longest-running business partner, and the only person on earth who could roll his eyes at him and live to tell about it.
But watching Alex lean toward her, seeing her smile that soft, open, real smile — the one Damian had only seen in passing, in stolen glances — had twisted something sharp in his chest.
Worse?
She looked relaxed.
With him.
Damian had never been good at conversation. He preferred silence, directness, efficiency. But now he couldn't help wondering: Was that all she wanted from him? Was she laughing like that because Alex didn't weigh the air around her down like he did?
He turned his head slightly.
She was still reading. Head tilted, hair tucked behind her ear.
She didn't look bothered.
Which made it worse.
---
They reached the hotel — sleek, modern, high-rise — and the driver opened the door for them one by one.
Damian stepped out first.
He didn't offer a hand to Emily. He didn't say a word to Alex.
He just adjusted his suit jacket and walked into the lobby, perfectly composed.
At the front desk, everything was already prepared. Of course it was. He didn't travel without structure.
"Mr. Walker," the concierge greeted with a professional nod. "We've prepared the East Suite and the adjoining Executive for your assistant."
"Thank you," he said, then turned slightly. "Emily."
She stepped forward, offering her ID and a polite smile.
Damian watched her from the corner of his eye.
She looked collected. Calm. Still in control.
If she was thinking about that moment in the kitchen… the warmth of her pressed against him… the way she hadn't pulled away immediately… she was hiding it far better than he was.
She accepted her key card with a quiet "thank you" and stepped back.
Alex gave a low whistle. "They really rolled out the red carpet this time. You guys do this often?"
"No," Damian said flatly.
His tone was too sharp.
Emily noticed.
He saw her glance at him — quick, cautious — but she didn't say anything.
Of course she didn't.
She never pushed.
Even when he wanted her to.
---
The elevator ride up was quiet.
Too quiet.
Damian stared at the numbers glowing above the doors. He could feel Emily standing beside him, just a step behind, her presence buzzing at the edge of his awareness like electricity in the air.
Alex leaned casually against the mirrored wall. "You know," he said, "I'm thinking this week might be more fun than I thought."
Emily smiled politely, but didn't respond.
Damian's fingers curled slightly at his sides.
The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open to the penthouse level.
He stepped out first.
Not because he was leading.
Because he needed space.
---
Inside the suite, everything was pristine. Floor-to-ceiling windows, pale marble floors, a separate lounge area with a private view of the coast. The executive suite Emily would use was connected via a private hall — a door he had requested remain unlocked for convenience.
He didn't know if he was protecting her or keeping her too close.
Maybe both.
"Dinner reservations are at eight," he said to no one in particular. "Formal dress. There's a press table."
Emily nodded. "I'll be ready."
Alex dropped his bag on a nearby chair. "Guess I better polish up too. Don't want to embarrass the two of you."
Damian looked at him. "Try not to."
Alex grinned, not bothered at all.
Emily stepped toward her room. "I'll unpack and change."
Their eyes met for a moment.
It was brief.
But her expression held something unspoken. A question. Or maybe a challenge.
Then she turned away.
And Damian stood in the middle of the suite, fists in his pockets, staring at the space she'd just left.
He wasn't sure which part of him was louder—
The part that wanted to keep her close…
Or the part that couldn't stand seeing her smile for anyone else.