Damon Cross wasn't exactly a man of routine.
He didn't need comfort.
He didn't need familiarity.
At least, that's what he told himself.
Until today.
Until he found himself sitting in his glass-walled office at 8:45 AM, coffee cooling at his elbow, wondering where the hell the tiny hurricane named Lila Hart was.
Usually, by now, she would've barged in with a million papers crammed under one arm, laptop tucked under the other, dropping pens and flashing that wide, unapologetic grin.
She was annoying.
Loud.
Impossible to ignore.
And today, she was... gone.
Damon frowned, checking his watch.
Maybe she was late.
She was always late.
He waited.
Nine-thirty. Nothing.
Ten-fifteen. Still nothing.
By noon, he was glaring at his phone like it had personally betrayed him.
Meanwhile.
Lila Hart was drowning.
"Okay, people!" Professor Avery clapped his hands at the front of the giant lecture hall. "Project proposals are due in one hour. If your names are not on my desk by then — consider yourself failed."
Groans and panicked typing filled the air.
Lila slammed her fingers against her keyboard, sweating.
Just two more paragraphs. Two more. Don't die now, laptop. I believe in you.
She hadn't meant to skip her visit to Damon's office today.
But her capstone project — the one that decided if she graduated or not — had blindsided her.
A fifteen-page report.
A complete business plan.
Charts. Models. Presentations.
All crammed into seventy-two horrifying hours.
Lila sighed, adjusted her glasses, and kept typing like her life depended on it.
He won't even notice I'm gone, she thought.
She imagined Damon, gliding through his day without a single ripple.
She was just a tiny speck in his glittering world.
No big deal.
Back at Cross Enterprises.
It was a big deal.
Bigger than Damon wanted to admit.
Meetings dragged.
Calls annoyed him more than usual.
Lunch tasted like cardboard.
He caught himself glancing toward the door every ten minutes, half-expecting her to come crashing in, apologizing and wheedling her way out of trouble.
By three o'clock, he gave up pretending he wasn't bothered.
"Where's the hurricane?" asked Ethan Vale, one of his senior partners, dropping into the chair across from Damon's desk.
Damon scowled. "What hurricane?"
"The little matchmaker girl," Ethan said, amused. "Office's been weirdly... peaceful today. It's creeping people out."
Damon stared at him.
Peaceful.
Right.
That was the word.
Then why did it feel so damn empty?
At University.
Lila finally staggered out of the building at six PM, brain fried, backpack slung over one aching shoulder.
She didn't have work at the flower shop tonight, thank god.
She could go home, eat a pizza the size of her face, and pass out for sixteen hours.
Her phone buzzed.
A text.
Damon [text]:
"You alive?"
Lila blinked.
She smiled.
Lila [text]:
"Barely. Big project. Sorry I missed the matchmaking session today, bossman."
She expected a sarcastic reply.
Instead:
Damon [text]:
"Don't do that again."
She frowned.
Lila [text]:
"Do what?"
A long pause.
Then:
Damon [text]:
"Disappear."
Lila stared at her screen, heart doing a weird little skip.
Before she could overthink it, another text came in:
Damon [text]:
"Get some rest. You have work to do. I refuse to suffer through another disastrous date without supervision."
Lila snorted, grinning.
Lila [text]:
"You missed me, didn't you?"
No reply.
She waited.
Five minutes. Ten.
Just when she was about to toss her phone into a lake out of secondhand embarrassment, her screen lit up again.
Damon [text]:
"I missed my daily headache. Big difference."
Lila laughed, tucking the phone into her pocket and heading for the subway.
She didn't know why his grumpy texts made her heart feel lighter.
Or why she suddenly couldn't wait for tomorrow.
She just knew she needed to survive today first.
And Damon Cross — the coldest man she'd ever met —
the man who treated emotions like landmines —
had somehow noticed she was missing.
Weird.
But nice.
Maybe even... a little wonderful.