Page 15 of Mutual Desire

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Nick grinned, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Let’s hit the lounge. I’m actually starving here. I haven't eaten anything for like two days straight.”

Damien was too nervous to feel like putting any food in his mouth. He hesitated, his fingers tightening around his iPad. “You go ahead. I’ll catch up,”Damien said, gesturing vaguely toward the door.

Nick frowned. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I just need a minute. All that coffee’s catching up to me,” Damien lied.

Nick chuckled. “Okay then. I’m heading to my office to drop my stuff first. Don’t take too long, D.”

Damien quicklytucked his iPad into his bag before handing it to Nick. “Here, take my stuff, too. I don’t feel like lugging it around.”

Nick raised an eyebrow but took the bag with a teasing grin. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood.”

Damien smirked. “You owe me for helping you nail that presentation. Consider this one tenth of your payment.”

Nick laughed as he slung Damien’s bag over his shoulder. “Fine, fine. I’ll meet you later.”

As Nick exited the room, Damien lingered behind, his heart pounding. He needed a moment to collect himself, to process the fact that the man he’d dumped coffee on had not only been in the room but held sway over everything Nick had worked so hard for. The thought made his stomach twist.

He rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling shakily.I just need to get through tonight without making things worse. He needed to pull himself together. It wasn’t like he could avoid Nabokov forever, especially if the man really was the one calling the shots.

Damien slipped out of the conference room with the others, his steps slowing as the hallway stretched ahead of him. The hum of voices faded into the background, the prospect of heading to the reception tightening a knot of unease in his chest. He pulled out his phone, his stomach twisted when his thumb hovered over Craig’s name. The argument the night before replayed in his mind—the sharp words, the palpable hurt in Craig’s voice. The memory of it gnawed at him, a festering wound he hadn’t yet addressed. He hadn’t been fair to Craig. But what could he say to fix it?

With a shaky breath, Damien veered away from the elevator bank, finding a quiet alcove near a window overlooking the city. The view blurred as he stared at his phone, thumb poised to hit “Call.”

Just do it. Apologize.

He pressed the button, his heart hammering as the line rang. It surprised Damien when Craig picked up after just two rings.“Yes, Damien,” Craig answered, his tone clipped and distant.

Damien’s chest tightened at the formality, but he couldn’t let himself falter. “Oh! Did you just remember you had a boyfriend?” he shot back, sarcasm coating his words, though his anger simmered just beneath the surface.

“If you’re calling just to argue, I’d rather hang up,” Craig replied, his voice calm but edged with weariness.

The silence that followed was heavy. Damien took a breath, willing himself to rein in his emotions. This wasn’t how he wanted this conversation to go—but the wounds from their last argument still felt fresh and raw.

“I…” Damien hesitated, searching for the right words, but nothing came. Finally, he blurted out, “I want to see you.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. The quiet stretched, and Damien’s anxiety clawed at him.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Craig said finally, his tone careful, as though he were walking on eggshells.

Damien’s grip on his phone tightened. “Why?”

“It’s too early,” Craig replied, his words deliberate. “I think we both need some time apart to figure things out.”

Damien clenched his jaw, his frustration bubbling over. “Well, I disagree,” he said, his voice sharper than intended. “A day apart is already too much, considering how little time we’ve spent together lately.”

“Damien—”

“No,” Damien interrupted, his emotions spilling out. “Listen to me, Craig. I won’t let this shit drag on. I’m coming to see you, whether you like it or not.”

“Damien—”

“I’m hanging up now.”

Before Craig could respond, Damien ended the call, his hand trembling slightly as he lowered the phone. He leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath. The weight of his own impulsiveness pressed down on him, but he didn’t regret it—not entirely. The adrenaline from the call still coursed through him, but he pushed himself away from the wall, letting his feet carry him to the large floor-to-ceiling window at the end of the hallway.

The city stretched out before him, bathed in the golden glow of late afternoon. Skyscrapers stood like sentinels against the sky, their glass facades reflecting the light. Down below, tiny cars crawled along the busy streets of Manhattan, the world moving on, oblivious to his inner turmoil. He stayed there for nearly thirty minutes, staring at the view and letting its vastness quiet his racing thoughts. The adrenaline ebbed away, leaving a familiar ache in its place—the ache of uncertainty.

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