Chapter Eight: The Distance Between Us
The morning after didn't feel like a sunrise—it felt like a spotlight.
I stood in front of the guest suite mirror, brushing out my hair like it was some kind of armor. Last night replayed on a loop in my mind: his lips on mine, the way he whispered he didn't want to fight it anymore, the way my body betrayed every ounce of reason I had left.
And now?
Now I had to face him like none of it had happened.
Right.
---
I stepped into the office with my head high and my spine stiff. Damon was already at his desk, buttoned up, cold, unreadable again.
So that's how this was going to go.
"Miss Hart," he said without looking up. "I trust you slept well?"
There it was. The corporate voice. Detached. Safe.
"I did," I replied. "Thank you again for the suite."
His pen paused for a fraction of a second. "You're welcome."
The silence stretched.
I set the day's files on his desk and turned to leave, but his voice stopped me.
"Lina."
I froze.
He looked up, jaw tight. "About last night—"
"Don't," I said quickly, turning to face him. "Don't apologize."
"I wasn't going to," he said. "But I do need to be clear. This—whatever it is—it can't interfere with our work. With your future here."
"I know." I hated how small my voice sounded.
He leaned back in his chair. "There are people who would use it against both of us."
"I said I know." Firmer this time. Sharper. The armor was slipping back into place.
He exhaled slowly, watching me with an intensity that made my stomach twist. "It's not that I regret it."
I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek. "Just that it happened at all."
"No." His eyes darkened. "Just that it happened with you. Because you make it impossible to stay in control."
My heart skipped.
"Damon—"
He stood suddenly, moving around the desk, stopping inches away from me.
"I don't know what this is," he said. "But I'm not going to pretend it didn't happen. I'm just not sure what comes next."
I swallowed. "Neither am I."
And for a brief moment, the walls between us cracked again.
Then the intercom buzzed, jarring us both.
"Mr. Wolfe, your eleven o'clock has arrived," Marissa's voice echoed through the office.
He took a step back. The moment shattered.
"Right," he said. "We'll talk later."
I nodded and walked out without another word.
---
The rest of the day felt like wading through wet cement. Meetings blurred together. I couldn't focus. Every time I walked past his office, my body reacted like a compass drawn to its magnetic north—always aware of where he was, even when I couldn't see him.
In the elevator, I caught a reflection of myself and barely recognized the woman staring back. I was falling for him. Slowly. Stupidly.
And the worst part?
I didn't think he'd let me go, even if I tried to walk away.
---
That night, I sat alone in my tiny apartment, the city lights flickering through the window.
He hadn't called. He hadn't texted.
But I didn't need him to.
Because I knew the truth now:
Something had started.
Something we both wanted.
And something that had the power to destroy us if we weren't careful.
I curled up on the couch, exhaling slowly.
Enemies. Lovers. Liars. Fighters.
We were all of it.
And I had no idea where we'd land next.