As she stepped out of the car and onto the polished marble floor, the gleaming facade of Damian's company seemed to gleam in approval of her presence. Her smile was a radiant beacon, illuminating the lobby as she strode confidently towards the elevator. The employees' polite greetings and bows were mere background noise to her, their faces a blur as she swept past.
The bellboy's obsequious tone grated slightly, but she deigned to respond, her voice laced with an air of expectation.
"Damian," she said, and the bellboy swiftly pressed the button.
As the doors slid open to reveal the floor, she stepped out into the sleek, modern corridor, her heels clicking on the floor.
The secretary's poised demeanor and courteous inquiry were swiftly extinguished as she ignored the woman and homed in on Damian's office.
"Excuse me, miss, but may I know who you want to see?" the secretary ventured.
The audacity! Who did this woman think she was to stop her?
She rubbed her temple, sighed, turned around to the secretary, and smiled evily.
"And who are you to ask me such questions?" she frowned.
"I'm sorry if I offended you, but I need to confirm your identity..."
"Listen here, you twit," she cut the secretary off. "I'm Kashi Saints, granddaughter of President Saint and owner of Saints Fashion! Wife-to-be of Damian. Who the fuck are you to stop me from seeing him?"
She walked close to the secretary in anger, her eyes flashing with indignation.
The secretary bowed her head slightly.
"I...I mean no disrespect, Miss Kashi. I...I..."
Just then, a familiar voice intervened.
"What's going on here?"
She turned, a smile spreading across her face as she locked eyes with Damian. He stood tall, his presence commanding attention, and she felt a flutter in her chest.
"Damian," she said, her voice softening with affection, as she walked up to him and placed her hands on his. "I wanted to see you...but this thing," she pointed to the secretary, "kept insulting me. I want her fired."
Her arms crossed over her chest, her anger still simmering just below the surface.
Damian's gaze flicked from Kashi to the secretary, his sharp, cold eyes softening for no one. Not even the woman he was supposed to love. He studied the young woman, head bowed, trembling under the weight of Kashi's wrath then looked back at her.
"Kashi," he said evenly, his tone clipped, commanding. "That's enough."
The secretary blinked in shock, daring a glance up. Damian's voice was not cruel, but it left no room for disobedience. He stepped past Kashi, positioning himself between her and the girl, as though shielding her from Kashi's venom.
"She is my secretary," he continued, voice calm but cutting. "She does her job. And no one in this building is fired because you snapped your fingers."
His words hit like ice water, and the employees passing in the hall froze, pretending not to stare, though whispers stirred. To them, Kashi was the spoiled brat of the Saints, but to her, she was Damian's future. This humiliation? Unthinkable.
Damian adjusted his cufflinks with precision, his expression unreadable.
"If you want to see me, you call first. You do not storm my office, you do not harass my staff, and you do not speak like that here. Is that clear?"
The secretary bowed low, her voice shaky.
"M-Mr. Damian, I'll return to my desk."
Damian gave her a curt nod, then turned back to Kashi. His voice lowered, softer but no less firm.
"Kashi, don't create scenes. You're better than that… or at least, you should be."
With that, he turned to head back into his office, not waiting for her reply. The sting of his words lingered in the air, sharp enough to cut.
Kashi stood frozen, her anger and humiliation boiling over. Would she chase after him, clinging to her claim on him, or stand her ground in the hall and lash back at the humiliation?
The choice was hers as she followed Damian into his office. The soft hum of the door closing behind her seemed to amplify the tension between them.
Her eyes flashed with indignation, but she swiftly regained control, a calculated smile spreading across her face. She glided across the room, her heels sinking into the plush carpet, and reached out to touch Damian's cheek.
He turned away from her touch, his expression unreadable. But Kashi didn't seem to notice, or perhaps she chose to ignore it.
"I wanted to see you and invite you to dinner," she said, her voice sweet and innocent, a stark contrast to the venom she'd unleashed just moments before.
Damian leaned back in his chair, the city skyline gleaming behind him like a backdrop of steel and glass. His suit was immaculate, his posture precise, exuding an aura of control. As Kashi touched him, he turned his face away, his expression unreadable. When he finally met her gaze, his eyes were cool, detached.
"Dinner," he repeated flatly, his tone dismissive. His fingers drummed lightly against the armrest, a subtle sign of impatience.
"Kashi, you know my schedule," he said, his voice clipped. "I don't have time for dinners. Not this week, not next."
The rejection was casual, effortless, as if brushing Kashi aside was second nature to him. His eyes flicked back up to hers, sharp and deliberate.
"And Kashi, stop treating this as more than it is," he said, his hand gesturing between them. "We are friends. Our families are partners. Nothing more."
The words cut deep, each syllable a blade. Yet Damian spoke them as though they were facts carved into stone, unshakable.
"Find someone who can give you the attention you crave. I will not," he said, his dismissal clear.
Kashi's face twisted in frustration.
"Why do you always do this?" she demanded. "You're avoiding me. It's been weeks, Damian. You can't ignore me like I don't exist. I barely get to see you, and I wanted to..."
But before she could finish, Damian's control snapped.
"Kashi!" he thundered, cutting her off.
His voice was like a crack of thunder, making her recoil back in shock. The sharp crack of his temper was a stark contrast to the calm mask he usually wore.
For a moment, time seemed to freeze. The only sound was Kashi's breath catching in her throat, the echo of Damian's shout hanging heavy in the air. His eyes blazed with a raw frustration, a man who'd run out of patience.
"You don't get it, do you?" he bit out, his tone lower but sharper, each word like glass. "I don't ignore you because I don't see you. I ignore you because I see you and I know what you want. And I will never give it to you."
As he rose from his chair, towering over Kashi, his presence became suffocating. His jaw was tight, his voice shaking not with passion but with finality.
"I told you before, Kashi I don't do love. Not with you. Not with anyone."
The words hung in the air, a brutal truth that seemed to crush Kashi's very soul.
But then, Damian's tone shifted, softer for just a second, almost pitying.
"You're chasing a ghost. And it's killing what little respect we still have between us."
The pity stung worse than the scream. Kashi felt it like a knife to the heart, a wound that would never heal.
Damian's dismissal was the final blow.
"This conversation is over. You may leave," he said, turning away, his silhouette framed by the city lights.
As she picked up her bag, the soft rustle of the leather seemed to echo through the silence.
"Yes, Damian. I'll go home now," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
With a quiet determination, she turned and walked out of the office, the door closing behind her with a soft click.
As soon as the door shut, Kashi's composure faltered. Tears brewed in her eyes, and she clenched her shirt in anger and pain. Why did he always act like that toward her? She loved him, and he knew it, but he didn't feel the same way. The knowledge stung, but she was willing to live with it.
As she stood there, trying to gather her emotions, the new assistant walked back in, bowed, and opened the door to Damian's office. Kashi watched, her eyes narrowing slightly, as the assistant entered the office and shut the door behind her.
Taking a deep breath, Kashi composed herself. She couldn't let Damian see her cry. Not now, not ever.
"It's alright," she whispered to herself, wiping away the tears. "He'll come around soon."
A determined glint sparked in her eyes. He was hers, after all. No one could take him from her. They would be engaged soon, and all of this would be worth it. For now, it was alright to take a step back. He would come around.
As she stepped out of the company building, the cool breeze hit her like a slap in the face, a harsh contrast to the air-conditioned office she'd just left. Her car pulled up, and her driver, prompt as always, emerged to open the door for her. She slid into the plush seats, the soft leather enveloping her like a warm hug.
As the car drove off, her phone rang, shrill in the silence. She picked it up, seeing Zarri's name flash on the screen.
"Hey, Zarri," she said, trying to inject some cheer into her voice.
"Kashi," Zarri's excited voice burst through the line. "How'd it go? Did you meet Damian?"
Kashi's smile faltered for a moment before she replied, "Yes, I did."
"And...how'd it go? Did he agree to have dinner with you?" Zarri asked, her curiosity palpable.
Kashi's smile turned sad.
"No...he's busy."
Zarri's outrage was immediate.
"What? Again? How dare he! That man doesn't deserve you. How could he refuse you?"
Kashi's smile returned, a small, wry thing.
"It's alright, Zarri. He'll come around," she said, her voice soft.
As she spoke, the car pulled up to her favorite coffee shop. She got out, entering the cozy cafe to order a coffee. Zarri's voice continued to chatter in her ear, her friend's disdain for Damian clear.
"I don't know, girl...there are a million men out there. I get he's hot and all, but he's not worth the stress, girl..." Zarri said.
Kashi sighed, her fingers tapping on the counter as she waited for her coffee.
"He's the one I want, and it's fine. He'll come around soon enough. We'd be engaged soon, and by then, he'll be all mine," she said, a determined glint in her eye.
After a quick goodbye, Kashi hung up the call and collected her coffee.
As she turned to leave, disaster struck.
She bumped into someone, her coffee splashing all over the ground and onto a pair of clean shoes.
"Ouch...can't you watch where you're going?" she said, rubbing her head and looking down at the mess she'd made.
Her eyes widened as she took in the expensive-looking shoes and the tailored trousers. She looked up, her gaze meeting a pair of cold, icy blue eyes that seemed to bore into her very soul.
The man's icy blue eyes locked onto hers, calm and steady, as the hot coffee dripped from his expensive leather shoes onto the tiled floor. The café fell silent, the patrons shrinking back from the tension, but he didn't seem to notice.
Kashi straightened, her frown deepening as she brushed her hair back from her face.
For a fleeting moment, the corner of his lips curved upward, but the expression was gone before she could be sure it was real.
The barista scurried forward with napkins, only to be waved off by the stranger's raised hand.
"You spilled your coffee on my legs," he said, his voice sharp. "Shouldn't you be the one to watch where you're going?"
Kashi's anger flared, and she shot him a dagger stare.
"Excuse me?" she said, her voice laced with venom. "You're not blind, are you?"
She shoved the coffee cup into his hand, her movements jerky.
"You owe me a new cup, mister."
The man raised a brow, his expression unyielding.
"Even though it was clearly you who bumped into me, why do I have to pay for your coffee? Shouldn't you be paying for my damaged shoes?"
Kashi's eyes dropped to his feet, her gaze lingering on the expensive Italian shoes. She knew enough about fashion to recognize the designer, thanks to Zarri's fashion brand.
She felt a twinge of irritation, but she sighed and pulled out her checkbook.
"Fine. How much does the shoe cost?"
She scribbled a few figures on the check, tore it off, and handed it to him.
"A few millions should cover it, right?" she said, her tone biting.
The man took the check without even glancing at it, handing it to the suited man behind him.
"Want me to replace your coffee?" he asked, his voice a little softer.
Kashi's frown deepened.
"No, thank you. If you don't mind, please excuse me. Sorry for spilling coffee on your shoes."
With a swift turn, she walked out of the café, her heels clicking on the floor as she hurried to her car.
As the door closed behind her, she let out a breath, feeling a mix of relief and annoyance.
Who was that infuriating man?