The worst part? The meeting wasn't even happening in the city. We were flying to Paris tomorrow morning.
I should have been excited. Paris- city of lights, romance, and the best croissants known to man, but excitement was the last thing I felt. Exhaustion, frustration, resentment- those emotions were alive and well.
"Lily, where's the revised proposal?" Damian's deep, authoritative voice cut through my thoughts.
I looked up from my computer screen, meeting his cold, steel-blue gaze. He stood in the doorway of my office, impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit, the picture of power and control. His expression was unreadable, as always.
"It's in your inbox," I said, keeping my voice level. "Sent it twenty minutes ago."
A muscle ticked in his jaw. He pulled out his phone, tapped the screen a few times, then nodded. "Good. We'll go over it on the plane."
The plane The private jet that would be flying us across the ocean together. In close quarters. For hours.
Fantastic.
"Anything else?" I asked, bracing for the inevitable.
"Yes. Pack appropriately. This isn't a vacation."
No kidding.
He turned and walked away before I could reply, leaving the scent of expensive cologne in his wake. The man was infuriating. Demanding. Completely unaware of the fact that I had a life outside of work.
Except... I didn't, really. Not anymore.
Once upon a time, I'd dreamed of more. Moving up the corporate ladder. Making a name for myself. But working under Damian had become all-consuming. He took and took, never acknowledging the sacrifices I made.
I grabbed my bag and powered down my laptop. If I had to spend the next several days trapped in his presence, I at least deserved a night of peace before the chaos.
Damian Caldwell
Work never stopped, not for me, not for anyone in my company. Excellence was not optional- it was expected.
I leaned back in my chair, rolling my sleeves up, scanning the proposal Lily had sent. It was good. No, it was great. She always delivered. The problem wasn't her competence-it was the distractions she allowed to creep in.
Lately, I'd noticed her hesitation. The brief moments of defiance in her eyes. The sighs when she thought I wasn't looking. Lily was slipping, and that couldn't happen.
The Paris deal was too important. If we landed this contract, Caldwell Enterprises would dominate the European market. Failure wasn't an option. That meant Lily needed to be at her best.
Dragging a hand through my hair, I glanced at the clock. Late. Too late to be at the office, but that didn't matter. Work was my life. It had been ever since I took over operations. There was no room for anything else.
Still, my mind drifted back to my assistant. Lily. The only person in this building who dared to challenge me, even subtly. She was sharp, dedicated, infuriatingly stubborn, and she was starting to pull away.
I didn't have time to deal with that. Not when the future of the company rested on this deal. She'd just have to keep up.
She always did.
Lily
Sleep was a luxury I rarely afforded myself, and tonight was no different. I tossed and turned, replaying every conversation, every look Damian had given me. His expectations weighed on me even in my dreams.
Morning came too soon. My alarm blared, dragging me back to reality. With a groan, I forced myself up, showered, and packed for the trip. Professional, sleek, businesslike-everything Damian would approve of.
The drive to the airport was quiet. Too quiet. The calm before the storm.
When I arrived at the private terminal, Damian was already there, standing near the jet with a cup of coffee in hand. He glanced at his watch, a silent reminder that I was precisely three minutes early-not good enough in his world.
Without a word, he handed me a folder. "Final itinerary."
I took it, skimming the details. Meetings, dinner with the clients, more meetings. No breathing room. Typical.
As we boarded, he gestured toward the plush leather seats. "Sit. We'll go over the presentation."
So much for easing into the flight.
The plane took off, and we worked in silence, tension thick between us.
Hours passed, then somewhere over the Atlantic, turbulence hit- sharp, and jarring. I gripped the armrest, with my heart racing.
Damian, on the other hand, barely reacted. He glanced at me, an eyebrow raised. "Nervous?"
"No," I lied, knuckles white against the leather.
His lips twitched, the closest thing to amusement I'd ever seen from him. "Relax. The odds of crashing are-"
"Don't. Even."
This trip was going to be a disaster. I could feel it.
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