Page 18 of The Founder's Power

But I nod, and again, I stay the night. Again, we don’t have sex. This time, though, we fall asleep tangled on the couch, her breath warm against my neck, her hand over my heart.

And for the first time in years, I don’t feel hollow when I close my eyes.

I feel complete.

CHAPTER8

DAMIAN

I’m running on two hours of sleep and one hell of a high.

My body’s at the office, but my mind is still on her. I’m wrapped up in the warmth of last night, the weight of her head on my chest, the way she murmured my name before sleep pulled her under.

I shouldn’t feel this exposed or this hopeful.

It’s dangerous.

I swipe through messages on my phone as I step into the boardroom, already late for a quarterly review. My team’s gathered—faces tense, eyes uncertain. The air’s heavier than usual.

No one’s speaking, not until Clara Douglas, my COO, clears her throat and says, “He’s waiting for you inside.”

I draw up short. “He?”

She doesn’t blink. “Vincent Grey.”

The name alone is enough to snap the haze clean from my brain.

I push open the door, and there he is.

Vincent fucking Grey, standing at the window like he owns the skyline.

Same expensive taste, same sharp jawline, same glint in his eyes that always warned you too late that he bites first. His suit is tailored like a threat, silver tie knotted with perfect tension.

He turns slowly like he’s savoring this. “Damian,” he says smoothly, “long time.”

I shut the door behind me. “Not long enough.”

He smirks. “Still holding a grudge over Singapore?”

“You tried to burn my company to the ground.”

Vincent shrugs. “It was a merger opportunity. You just weren’t smart enough to take the offer.”

“I was smart enough to rebuild bigger.”

“Yes,” he says, voice cool and amused, “and you made quite the empire, but if history has taught us anything, there’s one thing about empires, Damian… They fall.”

I narrow my eyes. “Why are you here?”

He walks toward me slowly. “Word travels fast, especially when the great Damian Kincaid starts skipping strategy calls, missing investor briefings, rearranging entire priorities for… what was it again?” He lets the pause linger like poison. “Oh. A woman.”

I keep my jaw tight.

He grins wider. “That’s what makes you weak. You’ve built your entire identity on precision and power, but underneath it?” He leans in. “You’re still a man who loses focus when his heart gets involved.”

I want to punch him. The biggest reason why I don’t is because he would probably like that. He wants me to lose control because he wants me to crack so he can slip on in and take everything from me.

Instead, I cross my arms. “If you came here to rattle me, you’re wasting your time.”

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