Page 12 of Mutual Desire

When Damien reached the designated floor, he found Nick pacing by the seating area, his eyes scanning the hallway like a man on the brink of a meltdown.

“Hey, you okay?” Damien asked, approaching.

Nick turned, his expression flickering with relief before the tension crept back in. “I don’t know, D. I’ve got this awful feeling I’m going to fuck this up.”

Damien clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ve got this. Anto-X is solid, and you know your shit. Just breathe, man. I’ll be right here the whole time.”

Nick gave a weak nod, though his body remained stiff with nerves.

“Should’ve had a drink before we did this thing,” Damien joked, hoping to lighten the mood.

Nick huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, a whole bottle, maybe.”

Together, they made their way into the conference room. Damien’s breath hitched as the space opened up before him—a sleek, opulent setting that screamed luxury and power. A long glass table stretched across the center, surrounded by black leather armchairs. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined one wall, offering a stunning view of the city skyline.

Around the table sat sevenmen, each exuding an air of authority. They were the kind of men who owned the world—older, sharp-eyed, and dressed in tailored suits that probably cost more than Damien made in a month.

One man, bald and imposing, tapped his fingers against the glass table in a steady rhythm. Another, wearing thin-rimmed glasses, scrolled through something on his tablet with practiced ease. A third man, who looked to be the eldest, sipped his coffee in silence, his expression unreadable.

The fourth man—grinning like a wolf who’d just found prey—leaned back in his chair, watching the room with unsettling amusement. And then the remaining three men sat quietly at the far end of the table, radiating calm authority.

Something about their presence made Damien’s skin crawl. These men were not to be trifled with.Next to the glass table, rows of chairs were filled with people Damien guessed were Nick’s colleagues, also there to present.

Damien and Nick took seats near the window, positioned slightly apart from the others. As Damien settled in, he couldn’t resist glancing out at the city below. The view was breathtaking, offering a brief reprieve from the tension brewing inside the room.

Nick fidgeted beside him, bouncing his leg with nervous energy.Damien could feel it radiating off him in waves. Nick leaned in slightly, voice low but strained.

“They’re not just executives, D. These guys run the whole division. If this goes wrong, I’m fucked.”

“It won’t,” Damien said firmly, though a knot formed in his own stomach.

As the minutes ticked by, Nick’s colleagues engaged in quiet conversations. Some rose from their seats to shake hands with some of the executives at the table, laughing as if they were old friends. Damien tried to stay focused, but the unease gnawed at him. This room felt more like a battleground than a meeting.With a sigh, he pulled out his phone and checked the time—3:27. The meeting was supposed to start at 3:00 sharp. Nearly thirty minutes of sitting around, waiting, while tension coiled tighter in his chest.

He leaned toward Nick and muttered, “I thought this thing was starting at three.”

Nick, who had been nervously tapping his fingers against his thigh, shot him a nervous look. “Welcome to corporate life, D. The only thing more powerful than money in these places is making people wait.”

Damien huffed, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. “Great. Love that for us.”

And then the door swung open.

Damien’s breath caught in his throat.

No.No fucking way.

The gray-eyed man from earlier strolled into the room, exuding the same effortless confidence that had thrown Damien off balance moments ago. His presence was magnetic, drawing the attention of everyone without a word.

Damien’s pulse raced as their eyes met. For a fleeting moment, the stranger’s lips curved into the faintest smirk, as if he enjoyed Damien’s discomfort.

Without acknowledging anyone else, the man crossed the room and took his place at the head of the glass table. He opened his laptop with a deliberate, fluid motion, as if every second of his life was perfectly choreographed.

Damien gripped the strap of his bag tighter, struggling to steady his breath.Of all the people in the world, how did I end up here—again—with him?

The lights dimmed, and a presentation flickered to life on the massive screen. But Damien couldn’t focus. His thoughts whirled in a chaotic mess, consumed by the man sitting just a foot away.

What the hell is going on? Damien thought, his heart hammering in his chest. And why, despite everything, did he feel like it was exactly where he was supposed to be?

SIX

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