Chapter six: Lines in the Sand

The following days felt like walking a tightrope, each step uncertain, each glance from Damien Cross like a gust of wind threatening to send her plummeting. Elena had been pushing herself harder than ever to stay focused on her work, but no matter how much she tried to drown out the distracting pull of his attention, she couldn’t escape the storm brewing between them.

It had been a week since their last meeting. The designs she had submitted had been approved, but Damien hadn’t let up on the pressure. His messages, his subtle challenges, they were constant. There was no avoiding him in the office, no matter how much she tried to keep things professional. He was everywhere—hovering in the background, lurking in the corners of her mind.

She couldn’t stop thinking about him.

And yet, there was something undeniably magnetic about their encounters. Every time they met, the air between them crackled with an intensity she hadn’t expected. The tension, the way their words danced in the space between them, it was impossible to ignore. But what was more confusing than the pull between them was the way he seemed to shift between being her mentor and something much more dangerous.

Late Morning, Cross Enterprises

Elena had just returned from a meeting with a supplier when her phone buzzed with a new notification. She glanced at it, her heart immediately skipping a beat as she saw the familiar name at the top of the message.

Damien Cross.

His last message had been two days ago—casual but with a lingering edge that sent an unmistakable signal. “You still haven’t learned to let go, have you, Ms. Hart?”

Now, he was texting her again. She could already feel her pulse quickening as she opened the message.

Damien Cross: You’ve been quiet lately. Too quiet. I don’t like it.

Elena’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. How was she supposed to respond? What was she supposed to say? The push and pull of their communication had her on edge, and today, the usual fire she felt for her work was dampened by the thought of his lingering gaze and the unspoken promise of their last encounter.

She stared at the message for a long moment, uncertainty washing over her. Then, with a deep breath, she typed a response, the words typed out more boldly than she felt.

Elena Hart: I’m busy. I don’t have time for your games right now, Mr. Cross.

The reply was immediate.

Damien Cross: Good. Then you’ll have plenty of time to prepare for tonight. You’re coming to the gala with me.

Elena froze, her heart pounding as the implications of the message hit her. A gala? With Damien Cross? The idea alone was enough to send a ripple of unease through her.

She had been so focused on her work, so caught up in the designs, she hadn’t even considered the fact that he might want more from her than just her creative mind. But the tone of his message was clear. He was not asking; he was telling her.

The thought of attending an event like this with Damien—the man who seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at once—was overwhelming. Elena was used to standing on her own, to making her mark without relying on anyone else. But this? This was different.

The clock on her desk ticked loudly, reminding her that time was running out. The gala was in a few hours. She hadn’t agreed to go with him, but she knew better than to decline. Denying him wasn’t an option.

Later That Evening

Elena stood before her mirror, the reflection staring back at her as if challenging her to admit what was going on inside her head. She had chosen a sleek black dress, one that fit her body perfectly and made her feel confident despite the whirlwind of emotions twisting inside her. Her hair was swept back into a simple, elegant style, and the soft glow of makeup only enhanced her natural features.

She wasn’t nervous. No. She was simply… uncertain.

As she adjusted the straps of her dress, her phone buzzed again. This time, it was a message from Brielle, her best friend.

Brielle: Are you seriously going to that gala with Damien Cross?

Elena rolled her eyes, even though a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Brielle always had a way of cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

Elena: I don’t have much of a choice.

Brielle: Well, be careful. That man is a walking temptation. Don’t let him get under your skin.

Elena’s smile faded. Brielle wasn’t wrong. She had already felt the pull of his attention before. What made tonight any different?

A knock at the door broke her train of thought.

She opened it to find her driver standing there, impeccably dressed in a dark suit, ready to escort her to the event.

Her breath caught in her throat. She had no idea what awaited her at the gala, but it didn’t matter. She wasn’t backing down now.

At the Gala

The grand ballroom of the Bellevue Hotel was opulent, glittering with golden chandeliers and the hum of conversation from well-dressed guests. It was a world Elena didn’t often step into, and yet, there she was, standing at the edge of the room, feeling like an outsider in the middle of this lavish affair.

Damien had arrived earlier, of course. He was the kind of man who moved through this world effortlessly—no one could miss him. He had a way of commanding the room, of holding everyone’s attention without saying a word. And yet, despite all his power and presence, there was something about tonight that felt different. More intimate, more personal.

He spotted her almost immediately, as if he had been waiting for her. His gaze cut through the crowd, locking onto hers like a magnet. When he began walking toward her, Elena felt her heart skip, her breath coming a little faster.

“You made it,” Damien said, his voice low and rich with an unmistakable edge. He looked even more stunning than usual in a tailored tuxedo that only added to his already imposing presence.

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” Elena replied, her tone steady despite the heat she felt rising in her chest.

“Let’s make this interesting, then,” he said, extending his arm. “Follow my lead, and don’t let anyone think you’re anything less than my equal tonight.”

She hesitated for only a moment before taking his arm. As they moved through the crowd, Elena couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease creeping into her chest. She was no longer just the designer in the room. Now, she was his. And that was a dangerous line to cross.

The night passed in a blur of extravagant conversations and the constant hum of high society. Every time Elena thought she could escape the tension between them, Damien would pull her back in, his presence too commanding to ignore. By the time the evening wound down, she felt as if she had been put through a test she wasn’t sure she was prepared for.

And then, just as they were about to leave, Damien turned to her with a smile that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked, his voice teasing, but there was something more beneath the surface.

Elena tried to steady herself, unsure of how to answer. “More than I expected.”

“Good,” he said, his fingers brushing lightly against hers. “We’re just getting started.”

Elena’s breath caught in her throat. She didn’t know what that meant, but she was certain that wherever this dance between them was leading, it was going to change everything.