The music thumped through the club like a second heartbeat, but Amelia Rose's world was heartbreakingly silent. She sat hunched over in the velvet booth, her cheek resting against the sticky table as Kitty, her best friend, waved a cocktail glass in the air dramatically.
"You did the best thing, Millie," Kitty slurred, nearly spilling her drink. "Seriously, that jerk was playing tongue tag with some blonde at noon, and then had the audacity to tell you he was playing PS5?"
Amelia groaned, dragging a finger through the condensation ring her glass left behind. "I thought he liked me…"
Kitty plopped beside her, wrapping an arm around her. "He didn't deserve you. And besides, you're about to start your internship at the most prestigious firm in the city! You're going to have the best boss, the best view, the best coffee—"
Amelia sniffled. "I just want to sleep."
Kitty kissed her forehead. "You go, babe. I'll text you tomorrow."
Amelia stumbled out into the night air, wobbling slightly on her heels. Her bun was loose, dress slightly wrinkled, and heart just a little more bruised. She turned a corner—
And stepped right into the street.
Headlights flashed. Tires screeched.
A black minivan swerved just in time.
The window rolled down.
"What the hell?" a low, irritated voice cut through the night. "Do you have a death wish?"
Amelia blinked, staring at the silhouette behind the wheel. Then the door opened, and out stepped a man in a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up, black slacks clinging to sharp legs like sin. He looked like he walked out of a finance magazine... or a dark fantasy.
"Why would I wanna die?" Amelia muttered, squinting and swaying
He asked "are you drunk?"
"You're judgy," she shot back.
He sighed. "You walked into the road."
"You parked your car... on Earth," she said with a huff, swaying.
He crossed his arms, studying her. "Are you always like this or just on Thursdays?"
"Depends on the tequila."
He stepped closer."Do u have your phone?"
Her lip curled into a lazy smirk. "You want my number?"
Damien rolled his eyes. "U don't look fine probably call for some friend. "
Amelia leaned closer, hair slipping free of its bun, eyes glazed but sharp as she whispered, "Oh I'm more than fine."
Damien let out a low chuckle that vibrated in her spine. "I don't think you can even walk straight, sweetheart."
Leaning down so he is face to face with her,"so where do u live?"
She squinted at him. "What do you mean by that?"
"I asked you a simple question, lady. Where. Do. You. Live."
"Just a few blocks away," she mumbled.
He opened the car door. "Get in. You look like you'll pass out on the pavement."
"I'm fine," she said, but her voice lacked conviction.
Damien didn't wait. He slid an arm around her waist and guided her into the passenger seat. "Not taking no for an answer tonight, darling."
Inside the car, Amelia peeked at him through her lashes.
"You're bossy," she murmured.
"You're drunk," he countered.
She grinned. "You're kind of hot when you're annoyed."
Damien didn't respond, but the ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips.
The car slowed in front of an old, weather-worn apartment building with chipping paint and a stubborn flickering light above the entrance.
"This it?" Damien asked, brows raised as he shifted the gear into park.
Amelia squinted at the building, then nodded like a sleepy owl. "Yep. Home sweet, crumbly home."
Before she could fumble the door open, Damien was already out of the driver's seat, opening hers and holding out a hand. She blinked up at him.
"What?" she mumbled.
"You'll fall face-first into the concrete before you even reach the gate," he said flatly.
"Chivalry isn't dead," she teased, letting him help her out. "It just wears very expensive cologne."
They walked in silence—well, mostly silence. Amelia hiccuped twice and hummed something dangerously close to Taylor Swift as they climbed the stairs. All three flights. By the time they reached the top, Damien looked vaguely like he'd been forced to do cardio against his will.
She fumbled with her keys, shoved the door open, and threw her arms wide like she was revealing a hidden treasure.
"Ta-da!" she declared, swaying slightly. "Welcome to my castle."
Damien stepped inside hesitantly, his gaze sweeping the small apartment. Faded yellow wallpaper. A crooked lamp. A couch that had definitely seen things. But there was something warm about it—lived-in, soft. Smelled faintly of cinnamon and vanilla?
In the middle of the room, Amelia spun on her heel, arms still raised. "Behold! This is my kingdom. Ruler: me. Favorite citizen: my plushies."
Then she plopped face-first onto the couch.
Damien smirked. "Charming."
He turned to leave, but before he could reach the door, her sleepy voice called out behind him.
"Hey! Don't you dare make fun of me… or my apartment."
He paused, glancing over his shoulder.
Amelia was now half-standing on the couch, pointing dramatically at him with a wobble. "This place is gonna be a big deal soon, okay? I'm gonna be the best intern Winston International has ever had."
Damien froze. His expression blanked. "…Winston?"
She beamed, teetering as she pointed a finger at herself. "That's right. Starting Monday. I even bought glasses with blue light filters. It's serious."
A beat passed.
Damien's jaw flexed slightly. "Interesting."
She narrowed her eyes, sensing a tone she couldn't quite place. "Why? You know someone there?"
Damien stepped back toward the door, hand already on the knob. His voice was calm, almost amused. "You could say that."
Before Amelia could string the words together, he added with a smirk, "Good luck on your first day, intern," and then, just like that, he was gone.
She blinked at the empty doorway.
"…Wait. What did that mean?"
But Damien was already down the stairs, that same amused rumble still lingering in the air.....