Ava’s POV
The elevator dinged, soft and smooth like a whispered secret, and I stepped onto the twelfth floor—Cross Enterprises’ executive wing. My heels clicked against the marble, echoing in the wide, quiet hallway. I clutched the manila folder tighter, willing my sweaty palms to behave.
I wasn’t supposed to be here. Not really. Junior associates didn’t get summoned by Damien Cross himself.
But today, I was the exception.
The glass doors to his office were tinted, giving just the faintest outline of his tall silhouette inside. I adjusted my pencil skirt, pushed my wild curls away from my face, and knocked twice.
“Come in,” his voice called out—low, deep, and calm like velvet dipped in honey.
I opened the door and stepped in, heart pounding. The first time I’d seen Damien in person,
