Chapter 3

Damian wasn't prepared at all. Seeing how fast and aggressive I was, he looked slightly alarmed.

"Wait… right here?"

I raised an eyebrow. Where else?

Right as the words left my mouth—

"Vroom!"

With a furious jerk, the engine roared to life with enough raw horsepower to rattle the windows of the nearby villa.

I hopped onto the utility vehicle and grabbed the wheel, raising my voice to compete with the deafening roar.

"You coming up? Want me to take you for a spin?"

The noise was so loud I couldn't hear whatever Damian was shouting from the ground, so I hopped back down.

Just as I stepped up in front of him, the machine let out a massive, explosive backfire! "BANG!"

In an instant, a sharp, splitting pain tore through my skull. I froze on the spot.

It felt as if several tiny, fractured silhouettes were spinning wildly in my head.

Damian lunged forward and covered my ears with his warm palms.

He whispered softly, "Don't be afraid. I'm right here."

For some reason, hearing those words brought an overwhelming sense of peace, as if all those chaotic silhouettes in my head suddenly wore his face, rushing forward to shield me.

I was famously known in high society as a delicate, pampered canary. That didn't mean I belonged to any man; it meant I had to be carefully shielded because loud, abrupt noises would trigger intense migraines.

That was the exact reason my parents had forbidden me from ever touching motorized farm equipment again.

Looking at Damian, who seemed even more panicked about my health than I was, my heart skipped a beat.

"Ring, ring, ring…"

Feeling a bit self-conscious, I ducked my head slightly and pointed at his jacket pocket.

"Your phone."

Damian pulled out his phone and stepped aside to take the call, allowing me to let out a quiet breath.

A soft breeze brushed past, but the warmth of his hands still lingered against my ears.

After hanging up, Damian took my phone and added himself to my SnapChat contacts.

He told me he had urgent business to attend to and asked me to head back to the office on my own this afternoon.

I nodded like a good little secretary.

Turns out the legendary cold, ruthless CEO wasn't as terrifying as the rumors made him out to be.

I immediately whipped out my phone and fired off a message to the group chat:

"Girls, girls, stop guessing! Nine inches! AHHHH! I swear on my life, it’s definitely nine!"

That afternoon, an urgent project proposal came up, and the task landed squarely on my shoulders.

Even though I was a pampered heiress, writing a business proposal was child's play for me.

Less than three minutes after I submitted the document, furious shouting erupted from the corner office.

"Who wrote this garbage? How could anyone come up with something this braindead?!"

After a relentless barrage of insults, I gritted my teeth and clutched my sleeves.

My name was plastered right on the cover page. There was no way Damian didn't see it.

He was definitely doing this on purpose.

To revise the proposal, I worked overtime until nine at night. Looking at the dark silhouette sitting in his office, my fingers hovered over my screen, tapping restlessly.

I wanted to remind him to rest early, but on second thought, I decided against it. He had just dragged me through the mud today.

The moment I stepped through my front door, a wave of hurt washed over me.

In all my years growing up, no one had ever dared to yell at me like that.

Just as I was silently cursing Damian in my head, a message popped up from him.

"Did you get home safe? [Puppy wagging its tail, waiting politely]"

You scream at me all afternoon and now you're asking if I got home safe?

None of your business. Careful, or I'll report you to HR for harassment.

I tossed my phone onto the sofa and headed into the shower.

When I came back and read the wall of text he had sent, I realized he actually had a point.

He explained that he had put on a show for the rest of the company so people wouldn't dismiss me as a privileged nepo-baby and target me behind my back.

The next day, when I saw a nasty bruise on Damian’s cheek, I couldn't resist sending him a text.

"What happened to your face?"

He replied instantly.

"Nothing. Just… slipped and got into a fight with a dog."

"You… have a hobby of wrestling dogs?"

Damian sent back a sweating emoji. Before I could reply, my phone buzzed with a blind date alert sent by my family.

I rubbed my temples in defeat. Even a billionaire heiress couldn't escape the cursed fate of arranged blind dates.

As I left my desk, despite the scorching summer heat, a strange chill ran down my spine, as if someone was watching my every move.