The following days flowed into a quiet rhythm.
Arabella stayed buried in her tasks—writing clean, efficient code, sending updates, keeping to herself. The meeting from earlier still echoed in her thoughts sometimes, especially that moment. Damon's voice at her ear. His hand casually resting behind her chair. The nickname.
Pearls.
She shook her head each time it surfaced. Focus, she told herself. It meant nothing. Maybe he said that to everyone.
But deep down, she knew he didn't.
Midweek, an internal memo pinged across departments: the CEO's team would now be reviewing select code modules directly for the upcoming launch. That meant higher scrutiny—and potential face time with Damon Kingsley again.
Arabella tried not to overthink it.
On Thursday afternoon, Mr. Caldwell approached her desk.
"You'll be working with Mr. Kingsley's team tomorrow. He wants a short review session on Module 3, since your approach to the optimization algorithm got flagged as efficient. His assistant will send the timing."
Arabella froze. "With… him?"
"With his team," Caldwell repeated, but his brow quirked slightly. "Possibly with him. Don't look like you're going to faint."
She nodded quickly, then got back to work, but her fingers hovered too long over the keys.
Friday – 11:00 A.M. – CEO Floor
Arabella stepped off the lift, file in hand. His assistant wasn't at the desk, again.
She hesitated. Then, before she could decide, the door to his office opened.
Damon stood there, speaking to someone on a call. He paused when he saw her.
He gestured her in wordlessly.
Arabella walked in, spine stiff.
The office was sleek and expansive, glass panels overlooking the skyline. He ended the call and turned to her.
"You're early, Pearls."
She blinked. "I thought the review was at eleven."
"It is," he said, checking his watch. "You're early by four minutes."
She didn't know how to respond to that. So she stood in awkward silence, clutching the file.
He walked over and leaned back against his desk, arms folded. "Relax. I don't bite. Unless someone's late."
Her lips twitched—almost a smile, almost.
"You brought the file?" he asked.
She nodded and stepped forward, handing it to him.
He took it, his fingers brushing hers in the process.. she hastily retracted her hand.
As he flipped through the pages, he spoke without looking up. "You did most of the work on this one?"
"I wrote the algorithm and structure. The testing and debugging were done with the rest of the team."
"Hmm." He looked up. "You're good at what you do."
Her eyes widened slightly at the direct praise. She glanced away. "Thank you, sir."
He caught the shift. The formal tone. The retreat.
He walked around the desk, putting the file aside. "You always call your managers 'sir' even when they say you're good?"
Arabella looked up, meeting his gaze just for a second. "Only when they're the CEO."
Damon chuckled under his breath. "Fair."
A silence stretched again. Comfortable on his end. Tense on hers.
Then—softly, teasing—"You always this quiet, or just around me?"
Arabella opened her mouth. Closed it.
Damon smiled. "No answer? That's... consistent."
After some moments, She spoke up "If that's all—" and starting retreating to the door.
"Pearls," he called, and she stopped and looked at him.
"You don't need to look like you're walking into a storm every time you come to my office."
She didn't respond. Just nodded and slipped out, her heart racing again.
Back inside, Damon stared at the closed door.
Still quiet. Still so careful.
But under that reserve, he saw it. A flicker of something else.
And he wanted to see more.