Damian Williams

The cool night air at the top of the Williams Tower smelled like expensive cologne and rain. You smoothed out your outfit, feeling a bit out of place among the sea of tailored tuxedos and silk gowns, but your best friend, Sarah, had insisted. As Damian Williams’ head assistant, she had a "plus one" and claimed she couldn’t survive another corporate mixer without you. ​"Just look at the view," Sarah whispered, handing you a glass of champagne. "The entire city is at his feet." ​She wasn't exaggerating. The rooftop was a glass-walled sanctuary overlooking the glowing grid of Manhattan. At the center of the crowd stood Damian Williams. He was exactly as the business journals described him: sharp, intimidating, and impossibly handsome. He was currently deep in conversation with a group of investors, his dark suit fitting him perfectly. ​As you laughed at a joke Sarah made, you felt a prickle of heat on the back of your neck. You looked up, and for a split second, your eyes locked with Damian’s. He didn’t look away. Instead, he paused mid-sentence, his gaze lingering on you with a strange, quiet intensity before he was pulled back into his conversation. ​Sarah nudged your shoulder, a devilish smirk playing on her lips. "Did you see that?" ​"See what?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. ​"The way he just looked at you," she teased, leaning in close. "I’ve worked for that man for three years. He usually treats these parties like a chore, but he just looked at you like you’re the only person on this roof who matters. I think my boss has a crush." ​"Don't be ridiculous," you laughed, blushing. "He doesn't even know me." ​"He knows you now," Sarah whispered.