Selene barely slept. By morning, her nerves were frayed so thin they could snap. She dabbed extra concealer under her eyes, squared her shoulders, and marched into Damian’s office with a smile that looked like it had been glued on by a rookie makeup artist.

“Good morning, babe,” she said, voice soft, almost sweet.

Damian didn’t even look up immediately. He finished signing a document, placed his pen down with clinical precision, then lifted his gaze to her. Those cold grey eyes never missed a thing.

“You’re late,” he said flatly.

She laughed nervously. “Traffic! you know how it is.”

He raised one brow. “You live five minutes away.”

She...