Taming the Storm

Damien sat in his office, leaning back in his chair with his fingers steepled beneath his chin. His focus was nowhere near the documents spread out before him. Instead, it was consumed by a singular image: Serena.

She had been in a meeting earlier that day, presenting her wellness progress reports to the board. Damien had attended, feigning disinterest while sitting at the head of the table. Yet, his gaze kept drifting to her—how her lips curved as she spoke, how her hands gestured gracefully to emphasize her points, and how her blouse clung to her in a way that made his mind wander to dangerous places.

The way she carried herself was magnetic. And it frustrated him to no end.

He was Damien Storm—cold, calculated, untouchable. No woman had ever stirred him like this. Yet Serena Bennett made him feel like he was teetering on the edge of something primal, something he couldn't control.

As she had left the boardroom, her hand brushing the doorframe, he had caught the faintest scent of her perfume. That simple, fleeting moment had stayed with him all day, a haunting reminder of how much he wanted her.

---

The Wellness Center

Serena was reorganizing her workspace when Damien decided to stop by under the guise of "checking on the program." He had never cared for such things before, but now, he found excuses to linger in her presence.

As he entered, his eyes swept over the room until they landed on her. She was standing on a small step stool, reaching for a box on a high shelf. The hem of her pencil skirt rode up slightly, revealing the smooth expanse of her calves.

Damien's throat tightened. He knew he shouldn't look, but his gaze was fixed. Her hair fell over her shoulder as she stretched, her shirt pulling taut across her back.

"Need help with that?" His voice came out rougher than he intended.

Serena turned, startled. "Oh! Mr. Storm. I didn't hear you come in."

"Clearly," he said, his lips curving into a small smirk as he approached.

Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly stepped down from the stool. "I was just organizing some supplies."

"Isn't that what assistants are for?" he asked, his tone teasing.

She smiled faintly. "I like doing things myself."

Of course, you do, Damien thought. She was independent, strong-willed, and utterly captivating.

As she moved past him to place the box on the counter, Damien caught another whiff of her perfume—a mix of vanilla and something floral. His pulse quickened.

"You're working late," he remarked, leaning casually against the counter.

Serena glanced at him, her expression wary but polite. "There's always something to do. What about you? Don't CEOs have better things to do than visit the wellness center?"

Damien chuckled softly, the sound low and intimate. "Maybe I just needed a break. And maybe," he added, his eyes locking onto hers, "I wanted to see how you were doing."

Her brow furrowed slightly. "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

Damien tilted his head, studying her. "You've been quieter today. After everything with Ethan, I wouldn't blame you if you were… unsettled."

Her gaze faltered for a moment. "I'm fine," she repeated, though her voice wasn't as steady.

Damien took a step closer, his presence commanding. "Serena, if there's ever anything—or anyone—bothering you, I want you to tell me."

She looked up at him, her lips parting slightly as if to respond, but the words didn't come. The air between them grew thick, charged with something neither of them dared to name.

---

Later that evening, as Serena prepared to leave, she found Damien waiting by the elevator.

"Mr. Storm," she said, startled. "I didn't realize you were still here."

"I could say the same about you," he replied smoothly, stepping into the elevator with her.

As the doors closed, the confined space seemed to amplify the tension between them. Serena could feel his gaze on her, intense and unrelenting.

She shifted slightly, unsure of what to say. But Damien spoke first.

"Do you always work this late?" he asked, his voice low.

"Not always," she replied. "But there's a lot to catch up on."

He nodded, his eyes roaming over her profile. The soft glow of the elevator lights highlighted the curve of her neck, the way her hair framed her face.

When the elevator jolted slightly as it descended, Serena instinctively reached out to steady herself, her hand brushing against Damien's arm. The contact sent a spark through both of them.

"Sorry," she murmured, pulling her hand back quickly.

Damien didn't respond immediately. Instead, he leaned slightly closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "You don't have to apologize."

She looked up at him, her breath hitching as their eyes met. For a moment, she thought he might say something more, but the elevator dinged, signaling their arrival at the lobby.

---

As he watched Serena walk away, Damien clenched his fists, trying to rein in the surge of desire coursing through him.

She was off-limits. An employee. Yet, the thought of anyone else having her—touching her, making her laugh—made his blood boil.

He wanted her. Badly.

And that terrified him.

---

At home, Serena tossed and turned in bed, her thoughts consumed by Damien. His presence was overwhelming, his words lingering long after he was gone.

She hated how much he affected her. The way he looked at her made her feel exposed, vulnerable—and yet, she couldn't deny the thrill it sent through her.

What was happening between them?

Serena sighed, staring up at the ceiling. She didn't have the answers, but one thing was certain: Damien Storm was unlike anyone she had ever met.

And he was quickly becoming impossible to ignore.

---

End of Chapter 12