Anastasia’s POV
The elevator pinged, and the doors slid open. Gareth greeted him with a respectful, “Good morning, Mr. Santoro,” and suddenly everything clicked. My eyes widened as I realized who he was.
We were all heading in the same direction, and I couldn’t help but notice how Gareth deferred to him, the subtle respect in their tone.
As we reached the conference room, I felt a wave of unease wash over me. The man, Mr. Santoro, was part of the legal team. He was the one handling the contract details I was about to sign. And the more I looked at him, the more convinced I became that he was the same man I’d had that one-night stand with.
My guesses are that he is related to Kilian Santoro, probably his son.
Could this really be happening?
“Good morning,” he said, turning to me barely smiling. “I’m Damien Santoro. I’ll be overseeing the legal aspects of our agreement.”
I could barely focus on his words. My mind was racing, my thoughts tangled in the realization that this was him. The image in my head of how he looked didn’t do him any justice.
Holy moly guacamole!
This man is dangerously handsome.
But did he remember me? There was no sign of recognition in his eyes, nothing that hinted at that night. It was like I didn’t exist to him.
“What of Mr. Killian, I’d like to speak with him please,”
“Mr. Kilian is otherwise occupied with more pressing matters. If he had the time, I assure you, he’d be here himself. But he doesn’t, so you’re left with me. I’m the one handling this now, and trust me, I wouldn’t waste my time here if it weren’t necessary. So, let’s not complicate things any further, shall we? Sign the contract, and we can all get on with our day.” He responded.
Huh?!
What is this, a case of multiple personality disorder?
Because the person that I met that night was clearly a nice person. Could I be wrong?
Nope I am right. Well his attitude clearly doesn’t match his facial appearance.
As we discussed the contract, the terms, and the offer of protection the Santoro family was extending, my thoughts kept drifting. My mind was filled with memories of that night-flashes of his face, his touch, the way he made me feel. And then there was the secret I was keeping, the one thing I hadn’t told anyone: I was pregnant, and the baby was his.
I tried to focus on the meeting, but it was impossible. The more I looked at him, the more my mind spiraled. How was I supposed to tell him? What kind of person is he? Did he even deserve to know? And what would he say when he found out?
When the meeting ended, Damien was the first to leave, his phone buzzing with some urgent message. I watched him walk out, feeling like I was teetering on the edge of a cliff. Should I say something now? Or was it better to wait? My heart pounded in my chest as I struggled with the decision.
But as I watched him go, one thing became clear: this was far from over.
———-
Over the next few days, I began to see a light at the end of the tunnel. The company, which had felt like it was slipping through my fingers, started to show signs of recovery. Every time I opened my email, I saw new deals being secured, new opportunities emerging. It was as if a heavy weight was being lifted from my shoulders. The atmosphere in the office even started to change; people weren’t as tense, and the fear that had hung over us all like a dark cloud began to dissipate.
The Santoro’s involvement was like finding a needle in a haystack.
I spent hours reviewing the contracts, poring over every clause, every detail. The Santoro family’s involvement was a gamble, but it was one I had to take. My father’s legacy depended on it. But even as I sat in the office, signing documents and making calls, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something. It gnawed at me, this vague sense of unease. Had I been too quick to trust them? Too desperate to save the company?
Despite the small victories, doubt lingered in the back of my mind, whispering questions I didn’t want to answer. The deal felt like a ticking time bomb, and I couldn’t help but wonder when it would explode.
And then, there was Damien Santoro. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. There was something about him that got under my skin. Those eyes, that voice… Why did he seem so familiar?.
Everything felt so familiar except his attitude. I hadn’t told Sophia about meeting him. I hadn’t told anyone. How could I, when the memory of that night-the one I couldn’t fully recall-made my heart race with both fear and… something else I wasn’t ready to name?
I found myself replaying our encounter in my mind, dissecting every word, every glance. Had I met Damien before? Was he the man I had slept with that night? And if he was, what did that mean for me? What did it mean for my baby? I squeezed my eyes shut, willing sleep to come, but the doubts kept me wide awake.
I was so lost in thought that I barely noticed the passage of time. The days bled into each other, a blur of meetings and phone calls, all while I wrestled with my thoughts. The company was stabilizing, but my personal life felt like it was unraveling. I needed to talk to someone, but who could I trust with something so personal, so potentially life-altering?
On the third day, as I sat in the office, staring at my computer screen without really seeing it, I made a decision. I needed to know the truth. I couldn’t live with this uncertainty any longer. But where to start? Damien was the key, but confronting him directly felt too risky, too dangerous.
Maybe I was overthinking it. Maybe I was just paranoid. But deep down, I knew there was more to this than I wanted to admit. I needed answers, and I needed them soon.